CHAPTER 182: THE UNIVERSE IN MY ARMS: ROUND TWO

My body was still trembling when he stilled inside me, his weight resting heavy over mine, his breath harsh against my cheek. I could feel his heart hammering in his chest, wild and uncontained, matching mine beat for beat.

But he didn’t move.

Not yet.

He stayed buried in me, his body tense, his arms braced on either side of my head like he was fighting off the urge to keep going. His forehead pressed to mine, and for a long moment, it was just breathing—raw and uneven and tangled.

Then he pulled back, just enough to look at me.

His eyes were dark. Still storming. Still dangerous. But there was something else there now—something deeper, hotter. Something that said: I’m not done with you.

Not even close.

"Still with me, sweetheart?" he asked, voice low, gravelly, already curling around the edge of a threat.

I nodded. Barely.

My throat was too raw to speak. My legs were still spread around his waist, his hips locked tightly between mine. My body felt overused, claimed, but the fire hadn’t gone out. Not even close.

His eyes dropped to where we were still joined, to the mess of us between my thighs. A sharp, wicked sound escaped him—a soft, dark growl.

"You’re dripping down your thighs," he said roughly. "And I’m still hard."

Before I could catch my breath, Adrien pulled back slowly, and I felt the reluctant slide of him leaving my body—slick, wet, intimate. A soft sound of loss escaped me.

Then I watched, dazed, as he knelt between my thighs.

"Look at the mess we made," he rasped, his fingers spreading my thighs further apart.

I gasped when he lowered his head and—without warning—licked into me.

I jerked, nearly coming off the bed, but his arms locked around my thighs, holding me down.

"Adrien," I panted, my hands clawing at the sheets as he continued to devour me. His tongue was relentless, flicking over my sensitive flesh and sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through my body. I was still raw from our earlier lovemaking, but the sensation of his mouth on me was too much to resist.

He groaned against me, the vibrations sending shivers up my spine. "You taste so fucking good, princess," he murmured, his breath hot against my skin. "I could do this all night."

The flick of his tongue over my swollen flesh sent lightning straight through me—blinding, shattering. Adrien lapped at my core, his tongue firm and insistent, devouring every drop of my release. He groaned at the taste, his nostrils flaring as if savoring my scent.

I couldn’t hold back my moans, my fingers tangling in his hair as I arched against his face. The dual sensations—his still-hard cock and his probing tongue—were too much, pushing me rapidly toward another climax.

"Adrien, please," I whimpered, my thighs trembling around his head.

But he only intensified his ministrations, sucking and licking with a fervor that bordered on obsession. The pressure built inside me, coiling tighter and tighter, until I was teetering on the brink once more.

And then—he kissed me.

He dragged his mouth from between my legs, his lips and jaw wet with us, and brought them to mine.

"Open," he said, voice ragged.

I did.

And he kissed me—deep, messy, soaked in our own desire—his tongue sliding against mine until I tasted everything. Him. Me. Us.

When he finally pulled back, I was dazed, limp, gasping.

The next second, he dragged his cock slowly along my soaked folds and slammed back in.

I cried out, my body arching off the bed, pleasure and overstimulation colliding in a blinding rush.

"Too much?" he asked against my throat, kissing just below my jaw, already moving again—slow, deep, punishing thrusts that made my vision blur.

"N-No," I gasped, hands flying to his back, digging in.

His mouth latched onto my neck, sucking a mark into the skin there, his tongue chasing the bruise. He dragged his cock out almost entirely—then slammed forward again, holding my hips down so I had no choice but to take every inch.

"You say the word," he whispered darkly. "You tell me to stop, and I’ll stop. But otherwise, I’m not done."

I couldn’t. My voice was trapped, lodged somewhere deep in my throat alongside the ragged gasps that tore from my lungs. Every fiber of my being screamed for more, even as my muscles trembled on the verge of collapse. His intensity was a blinding force, stripping away thought, leaving only sensation.

His hands moved from my hips, sliding up my ribs, then gripping my breasts, his thumbs circling my nipples, already aching and erect. The added friction, combined with the deep, bruising thrusts, sent my senses spiraling. I was a live wire, frayed and exposed, every nerve ending firing with a raw, desperate need.

"Tell me, love," he rasped, his voice a low growl against my ear, sending shivers down my spine. "Tell me you want me to break you."

"Yes!" I choked out, a sob tearing through me, my fingers digging into the taut muscles of his back, desperate to anchor myself to him as the world tilted. "Break me, Adrien, please. Don’t stop."

That broke something in him.

He flipped me onto my stomach with a roughness that should’ve made me flinch—but only made the heat in my core explode. My cheek hit the sheets, and then his hand was at my hip, dragging me up until I was on my knees, his chest flush against my back, his breath scalding hot in my ear.

"You ready?" he asked, low and dangerous.

"Yes," I whimpered, voice muffled by the mattress.

"Words, little bird. I want to hear them."

"Yes, Adrien. I need you."

He pushed in again—not as hard as the first time, but no less possessive. My back arched, a moan tearing out of me as he filled me inch by inch until I was stretched around him again, completely owned.

His hands gripped my hips, bruising and steady. He set a slow, deliberate rhythm—deep thrusts that made my toes curl and my fingers dig into the sheets.

"You like this pace?" he asked, breath hot against the shell of my ear as he leaned over me. "Want me to go faster?"

I couldn’t form a coherent word. All I could manage was a desperate, keening sound as I tried to meet his thrusts, pushing back against him with a frantic energy I didn’t know I still possessed.

A low, dark chuckle rumbled through his chest, vibrating against my back. "I see," he murmured, his teeth grazing my earlobe. "Your body has an answer even when you don’t." One of his hands left my hip, sliding up my side, his fingers splaying possessively over my ribs before moving to my hair. He gathered a fistful at the nape of my neck, not painfully, but with an authority that left no room for argument, tilting my head to the side. "But I still want to hear it."

"What do you want, sweetheart?" he asked. "Say it. I won’t give you anything unless you tell me."

"I want—" My voice broke on a moan as his hips snapped forward again, slow but brutal. "I want you to fuck me harder."

"Good girl," he breathed, his lips brushing my ear, sending shivers down my spine. "That’s what I like to hear."

His hips slammed into mine again and again, dragging helpless sounds from my throat, setting my nerves on fire. I was clinging to the sheets, to air, to sanity—anything—but nothing grounded me like him. Nothing tethered me like the way his hands bruised into my hips and his body took mine like it was owed to him.

"God, listen to you," he growled. "So fucking wet. You hear that?"The filthy sound of skin meeting skin echoed between us, slick and loud and obscene.

I sobbed into the pillow, my body quaking under his. "Adrien—"

Adrien was relentless.

He fucked me like he meant to erase every trace of what happened tonight. Like he was branding over the scars with his hands, his mouth, his entire goddamn body. Every thrust was brutal, filthy, and possessive. His fingers slid between my legs again, finding my swollen clit and stroking mercilessly as he pounded into me.

"You’re mine," he growled. "No one else. No one ever gets to touch you. I’ll kill them, Isabella. I’ll kill anyone who even thinks about you like they did."

He pulled me up by the waist so I was on my knees, arching my back, giving him even deeper access. My hair clung to my sweat-slicked skin, but I didn’t care. I was unraveling all over again, and he knew exactly how to tear me apart.

"I can feel you squeezing me," he groaned. "You’re going to come again, aren’t you?"

I couldn’t answer. Could barely breathe.

"Come for me, Isabella. Let me feel you fall apart again."

His fingers worked faster. His thrusts turned savage. And then—

I broke.

My scream was hoarse, wild, and desperate. My body convulsed around him, milking him, shaking so hard I nearly collapsed—but Adrien held me steady, riding out my orgasm as his own hit.

With a final, brutal thrust, he spilled inside me, groaning through clenched teeth, his body rigid and trembling against mine.

We collapsed into the sheets, breathless, tangled, and drenched in sweat and something more primal.

He didn’t pull out.

He stayed inside me, both arms wrapping tight around my middle, his lips pressed to the damp skin at the base of my neck.