CHAPTER 103: SIN AND SILK PT2

André and Vivienne collided again, lips pressing, teeth grazing, mouths devouring each other like starving wolves. There was no space left between them, only heat, only fire, only the desperate need to consume and be consumed. Every movement was sharp and slow at once, as if they were trying to restrain themselves, trying not to lose control, but every inch of their bodies betrayed them. They pressed together, grinding, shivering, gasping in small, quiet bursts, mouths open, tasting, claiming, each breath mingling with the other in a thick, hot cloud.

Vivienne’s nails dug deeper into his back, fingers curling in his hair, trying to anchor herself. She wanted to push him away, to scream, to bite, to curse, but her body betrayed her with every tilt, every arch, every shiver. She moved closer, drawn in by a fire she hated and loved in equal measure. His hands roamed, sliding over the curve of her spine, the line of her ribs, the swell of her thighs, tracing paths that left invisible fire in their wake. Every touch was both a map and a warning, precise and deliberate, dangerous and maddening all at once.

Their breathing grew ragged, lips parting, teeth grazing, a quiet war of need and restraint. André’s chest pressed against hers, skin hot and taut, muscles coiled with impossible tension. Vivienne could feel every pulse, every heartbeat against her own. Her head screamed to stop, to run, to bite and claw, but the rest of her body refused. Every nerve was alert, alive, trembling, aching.

His lips found her neck, soft and rough, dragging, tasting, memorizing her scent as though it were a treasure and a trap at the same time. Vivienne gasped quietly, a sound torn between pleasure and fury. Her hands gripped him like anchors, holding, clinging, unwilling to let go even for a second. Heat spread through her chest, her limbs, her spine, making every nerve hum with tension. Her legs trembled, her arms shook, yet she could not stop herself from leaning into him, from letting herself be claimed even as her mind screamed curses in every possible language.

He guided her toward the armchair with impossible control, steady yet relentless. Their bodies stumbled together, pressed, grinding, moving as if they were one chaotic, beautiful thing. Her chest rose and fell in rapid bursts, her hips shifting, her back arching, head tilting, each motion a betrayal and surrender at once. Her brain, what little she had left of it, had died somewhere in this storm of sensation. She was pure instinct, pure chaos, pure heat.

André’s shirt was gone, tossed somewhere behind them, leaving skin hot and taut against hers. He kissed her again, hard and slow, tasting, claiming, marking her like territory and punishment all at once. Vivienne pressed into him, tilting, arching, burning, shivering. Her fingers dug into the armrest, into his hair, anything that could hold her upright while the storm of fire tore through her veins. She whispered his name quietly, a ragged combination of surrender, fury, and dark craving.

His hands moved lower, sliding over her thighs, kneading, teasing, brushing her with precision that made her breath hitch, soft, frantic. Her nails raked through his hair, biting his shoulder in a desperate attempt to reclaim a fraction of control. He bent lower, lips tracing the inside of her thighs with tender cruelty, leaving her shivering and gasping. Slowly, deliberately, he removed her underwear. She spread instinctively, her body betraying the hate she still felt, betraying the chaos they shared.

André bent back again, his lips finding her clit with maddening slowness, teasing, tasting, pushing her closer and closer to the edge. Vivienne clutched him tighter, a quiet moan tearing from her throat. Her body shook, trembling uncontrollably, hips tilting, legs tightening, every inch of her quivering with desire and fury. Her hands clawed at the armrest, at him, anywhere to anchor herself while the world narrowed down to heat, breath, skin, teeth, tongues, and the impossible madness that bound them.

She thought she hated him. She swore she did. She thought she wanted to kill him. But as her body trembled, as her chest heaved, as pleasure and fire roared through her veins, she realized the truth: she could not escape him, not now, not ever. Her entire being ached and shivered in quiet chaos, a storm she refused to name.

André’s eyes, dark and intense, watched her reaction like a predator observing a perfect hunt. He softened when she trembled, darkened when she gasped, held her with a quiet, dangerous patience that made every nerve in her body scream. Vivienne came undone quietly, shivering, gasping, her body quaking as pleasure and hate collided inside her. She clutched him, pressed against him, surrendering to heat she refused to admit aloud, every nerve screaming, every instinct lost.

When it ended, even slightly, their chests heaving, bodies pressed together, there was a silence so thick it could have crushed them. Vivienne wanted to glare, to scream, to spit, to curse him, but she did none of it. She was too alive, too undone, too trapped in the chaos and heat, the maddening pull of the other, the violent impossibility of wanting him while hating him.

They stayed pressed together, trembling, eyes locked, hearts hammering, each gasp and shiver a declaration of their impossible desire. Every movement was a storm restrained, every glance a challenge, every exhale a confession.

André brushed a hand down her side, slow, deliberate, dangerous. Vivienne pressed back into him, shivering, trapped in a fire she could not escape, could not name, could not fight. The room was thick with tension, heavy with heat, silent yet screaming with the unspoken chaos between them.

Every shiver, every gasp, every small, quiet moan that escaped her lips was a victory of desire, madness, and surrender. They were bound in it, the delicious, terrifying, chaotic hunger that neither could control.

And in the quiet, as their bodies trembled, skin hot and hearts raw, one truth remained, undeniable and unspoken: they were caught in a storm they could not survive without each other, even if they wanted to, even if they hated it, even if it was the most impossible, consuming, beautiful madness either of them had ever known.