Sweet Hatred-Chapter 233: Storm in a tux

My brows pulled in. "What?"

His took a step back, unwrapping his finger around my throat.

"That little game you were playing." His voice was all gravel and restraint. "Did it feel good? Getting under my skin? Are you satisfied now? mhm?"

I tilted my head. Innocent. Dangerous.

"Talking to another man?" I said, lips curving slowly. "Is that what you mean?"

His jaw flexed.

I took a step closer this time.

"And what about you, Kael?" I whispered, eyes glittering. "You looked good tonight... you and Ashlyn both."

The heat in his stare changed, something feral flickering beneath it. But I wasn’t done. It seemed the alcohol finally kicked in or I was just being petty but regardless, I was already soaked in chaos, high off the power of him unraveling.

"People can’t wait for you two to announce your wedding date. They say you’re perfect together. I mean..." I shrugged, "... it’ll be a lovely ceremony. I’ll send flowers."

Kael didn’t say anything. He just stared. Dead silent.

And deadly calm.

I should’ve been afraid. But the ache between my thighs only grew. Because I liked it. I liked this. His fury. His impatience. The fact that I could get him like this.

"You don’t like me talking to other men," I said, voice dipping lower. "But you still expect me to walk around like your good little girl. Do what you say. Smile on command. Be quiet. Be nice. Let you have your leash on me whenever you decide to pull."

I stepped even closer, toe-to-toe with the storm in a tux

"So tell me, Kael..." I looked up at him, daring him, "... am I not allowed to have fun anymore just because you still want to own me?"

That was it.

That was the snap of the leash.

He moved faster than my breath, one hand gripping the back of my neck, the other yanking me forward as his mouth crashed into mine like a curse he couldn’t take back.

Hot. Vicious. Unforgiving.

I could taste it all—tobacco, champagne, something dark and bitter that could only be him.

I gasped into his mouth, and he swallowed it, like he needed it to breathe.

I pretended to resist.

Pushed at his chest. Bit down on his bottom lip.

But when his tongue slid against mine, when he growled low in his throat and pinned me against the wall, I shattered.

He didn’t kiss me like a man in love.

He kissed me like a man at war.

Like this was the only way to survive me.

His lips tore down my jaw, to my neck, biting and sucking like he needed to mark me again, and again, and again, just to remind himself I was still real. Still his.

"Impressive," he hissed, voice cracked and desperate, "you’re getting good at riling me up firefly... Who taught you?"

I didn’t answer. Because no one did.

His knee slid between mine, forcing me open. I didn’t fight it.

Instead I ground against him.

Shameless. Needy.

He groaned into my skin like it physically hurt to hold back.

"I hate this dress," he muttered against my collarbone, fingers fighting the bodice, tugging down the fabric like it offended him. "I hate this fucking mask. I hate that every man in that room looked at you like they could even fucking touch you..."

"Kael-" I gasped, as his hand slid under my thigh and lifted me, my back hitting the wall harder, my legs wrapping around his hips like instinct.

"Say it again," he panted against my mouth, "say it again," he repeated. "... tell me I don’t own you. Tell me you don’t want me, and I’ll stop."

But I couldn’t.

I didn’t. I was desperate to feel something that wasn’t like tearing apart my own soul.

My lips parted. My eyes burned. And he kissed me like he knew. Like he always knew.

The second his mouth left mine, I should’ve breathed.

But I couldn’t.

Because Kael was staring at me.

And his eyes, his fucking eyes, were the most dangerous thing about him. They weren’t glowing with anger. No, they were drenched in it. Calm. Unblinking. Deadly.

I didn’t even realize he’d grabbed my wrists until I tried to move.

I couldn’t.

His grip locked them above my head, pinned to the wall, reminding me of the night at the club this whole thing started, the force of it making the bones in my arm tremble, but not from fear.

From need.

He didn’t speak. He didn’t blink.

He simply leaned in close enough that I felt the heat of his breath feathering against my lips, and with the same brutal care I hated and loved, he found the zip of my gown.

And slowly. So fucking slowly, he peeled it off.

The fabric slid down my skin like shame, like salvation, circling at my feet in a rustle of emerald silk.

But I didn’t look away.

I met his gaze even though my body shuddered from the sheer intensity that radiated off him.

Even as my chest rose and fell. Even as goosebumps followed the path of the cold air brushing over my now bare skin.

"Isn’t this is all we are?" I asked, fire curling in my voice. "Fucking." I answered myself. But it wasn’t enough. I needed to get more out of him. He was always hungry for my rage wasn’t he? Maybe it was time I flipped the damn script.

"That’s it. You think I’m yours just because I want you? Is that what you tell yourself to sleep at night?"

I spat the words like venom. But my thighs, my treacherous thighs, pressed together, aching.

Kael didn’t flinch. He didn’t answer either. He just smirked against my lips.

That crooked, sinful curve of his lips that made something inside me combust.

Oh, I was so fucked.

His free hand slipped between my legs, dragging down my panties so slowly I whimpered.

Then his fingers, God, his fingers, brushed my slick folds.

And I shuddered.

"Kael—"

His thumb grazed my clit, soft and deadly. The heat in my belly coiled like a fuse on fire.

And still he said nothing.

Just circled.

Just stroked.

Just watched me.

Like he had all the time in the world to ruin me.

"You’re trying to push me away," he finally murmured, voice low and dark as obsidian. "Trying to sabotage this... so I’ll let go."

A soft drag of his finger. Up and down. Drenched.

"But I won’t," he whispered, brushing a second finger inside, "Not until I’m sick of you and dispose of you myself."

He leaned in, mouth barely grazing my ear.

"So keep trying, sweetheart." His breath burned. "Maybe you’ll win."

"You asshole," I choked, but it dissolved into a gasp as he curled his fingers wickedly and I nearly came apart.

But then...

He stopped.

"Kael..." I growled, hips twitching toward him. Desperate. Humiliated. So close.

His eyes dragged up to mine.

"You want to pretend this is just sex? Fine." His fingers slipped out, glistening. "Let’s pretend."

He lifted them.

And then, he brought them to my lips.

"Open."

My glare burned through him.

"What?"

"Open," he said again, voice like silk over a knife.

And I did.

I opened my mouth and let him slide his soaked fingers in, tasting myself as my body trembled from the shame and pleasure tangled inside me.

"This belongs to me, Aria," he whispered, watching my lips close over him. "And no one else gets to have it."

His fingers slid out, trailing down my chin, and then...

He kissed me again.

Slow. Consuming. Possessive.

Like I was the only meal he’d ever want again.

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