CHAPTER 94: BURNING DESIRES PT3

André hovered against Vivienne again, lips pressing hers, teeth grazing softly, a teasing bite that made her gasp. The world narrowed down to his body, to the heat and tension pressing into her, to the maddening sense of inevitability that she was trapped in his grip. She could feel his hands moving over her, skilled and deliberate. One hand cupped her face gently, warm and insistent, while the other slid down to her waist, fingers grazing her soft skin, sending shivers cascading through her body like wildfire.

Every nerve in her body screamed, and yet her mind was useless. Her brain had packed up and left years ago. Vivienne could only react, body first, like a living, breathing mess of instinct and appetite.

Then his lips left hers and drifted lower, trailing along her jaw, down her neck, finally resting against her chest. He kissed her chest tenderly, light and teasing, savoring each second of her reaction. His lips moved to her breast, wrapping around her nipple, sucking softly, gently, making her inhale sharply. She arched, biting her own lip half to contain the moan threatening to escape, half to punish herself for wanting it.

Her hands didn’t stay still. One roamed over his chest, feeling the hard, perfect lines of his abs, the heat of his skin. Her other hand drifted lower, brushing him, feeling him hard and unyielding. Her pulse skyrocketed, heat blooming through her, and a chaotic thought ran through her: God, what has this man done to me? He’s ruining me. I hate it. I fucking hate it. I love it. Fuck it all. Fuck him.

André’s hands moved with more purpose now, pressing her closer, tilting her body into his with the careful dominance of a man who knew exactly the effect he had. Vivienne’s legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, pulling him in, as though she could fuse herself to him entirely, though every fiber of her screamed: I hate you. I’m going to kill you. Oh God, I want more. I think I’m fucking crazy. You are so fucking horny Vivienne. You are acting like a rabbit in heat. Get a fucking grip of your fucking self you stupid bitch.

He kissed her again, soft at first, teasing, then harder, teeth grazing her lips, tongue demanding. Vivienne gasped, pulling him closer, hands tangling in his hair, fury and desire mixing in a perfect, chaotic storm. Her body pressed fully to his, heat and wetness pooling between them, nerves alight, every instinct reduced to craving.

André’s lips moved down her neck, biting gently, leaving marks that burned deliciously. Vivienne’s hands roamed over his shoulders, chest, and back, gripping, clutching, needing. She kissed him back with equal ferocity, pouring all her hatred, lust, and chaos into the movement.

Then he entered her, and her breath hitched sharply. Her body tensed, muscles trembling, every nerve on fire. Hands gripped him, clawing into his back, seeking solid ground, but her body had its own agenda. Every thrust, every brush of skin, every precise movement sent shivers rippling through her, undoing her composure entirely.

André’s movements were deliberate, teasing, building tension to a maddening level before he let it spill. Vivienne tried to fight it, tried to hold herself together, but her body betrayed her. Her mind could only scream, What the fuck is happening? I hate this man. I love this man. I want to scream, to punch him, to throw myself at him all at once. Make it stop. Don’t stop. God, fuck me. Fuck him. Fuck everything.

She clutched at him, dragging him impossibly close. Every time he pressed against her, every time his hands moved over her, she felt undone, unraveling into raw lust, desperate and feral. André sensed it, smirked, dark eyes glinting, lips teasing, pressing his dominance and desire into her. He kissed her lips again, slow, breathy, claiming her.

"You are mine now, Vivienne," he whispered, voice low, commanding, intimate.

Her knees trembled. Her hands roamed over him like she could memorize every inch. Her back arched, pressing fully to his chest, heat pooling dangerously, her breathing ragged. Her pulse raced so fast it felt like it would tear through her skin.

He teased her relentlessly, lips moving down to her neck again, teeth grazing, tongue brushing sensitive spots that made her head spin. Every movement was chaos and perfection, precise yet maddening. Vivienne moaned into him, loud, desperate, a sound she both hated and loved.

She grabbed his shoulders, pulling him against her with equal ferocity, wanting, needing, hating, and losing herself completely. Each thrust, each kiss, each deliberate, maddening touch felt like fire consuming every thought, leaving only the raw, urgent need for him.

André’s smirk never faltered. He watched her, dark eyes gleaming, delighting in the chaos he had wrought. He moved with masterful skill, teasing and claiming in the same breath, every motion designed to make her lose herself completely.

Her moans were ragged, half fury, half lust, half surrender. She whimpered against his neck, pressed to him, heart pounding like a drum in her chest. Heat, lust, and frustration tangled inside her until it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began.

André slowed briefly, savoring her reaction, letting her shiver under him, letting the anticipation drag her further into madness. His hands caressed her, skilled, teasing, knowing exactly how to push her closer to the edge.

Then he resumed, thrusting with maddening rhythm, a combination of force and tenderness that left her breathless. Every movement was deliberate, every pause calculated. He caught her gaze, smirk curling on his lips, eyes dark and possessive.

"You are mine now, Vivienne," he repeated, whispering against her lips.

Her stomach twisted, heart pounding violently. Every nerve in her body screamed: What the fuck. What the actual fuck is this motherfucker talking about. It cannot be what I am thinking. It cannot. He’s fucking mad. He’s fucking crazy. This bastard has gone bonkers. Jesus fucking Christ. This has to be a joke.