Fake Date, Real Fate-Chapter 89: When Pretend Turns to Hunger

[WARNING: Mature Content]

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I kissed him like I was starving. Like he was the air I’d been denied for far too long.

My fingers clasped the fabric of his shirt as his mouth returned the fire of mine—deeper, slower, enjoying it.

Adrien groaned, a sound that ignited something molten underneath my skin. His hands framed my face at first, careful, reverent. Then they slid down, along my sides, gripping my waist as if grounding himself.

His control unraveled; I could feel it as his mouth possessed mine, the way he exhaled my name against my lips like a prayer and a curse.

I felt him—hard and wanting—pressed against my center through layers of thin fabric, and I couldn’t help the breathy sound that escaped me

His grip tightened around my waist and in one motion he lifted me and set me on the kitchen island, our mugs tumbling over.

I gasped into his mouth as he stepped between my legs, the rest of his body pressing against mine. His kiss deepened, hunger curling tight in my stomach.

Fingers tangled in hair. Clothes pulled. Mouths bruised.

He kissed me like he needed it.

Like he had been waiting a lifetime for this time with me.

A hand pulled my pajama shirt’s hem upwards, his hot palm pressed against my waist.

"Please tell me to stop," he said roughly against my mouth.

I didn’t.

Instead, I yanked the front of his shirt, pulling him in harder. "You really want me to say it?"

His eyes met mine—wild and dark and unbearably honest.

"No," he said. "Not unless you mean it."

I kissed him again—hard and desperate, responding to the question neither of us had the guts to ask out loud.

He growled low in his throat, and suddenly we were moving again—his lips mapping down my neck, as his hands pressed me onto the counter like I might disappear.

The soft classical music played in the background, contrasting with the chaos we had caused.

We broke the kiss only to take a breath, but kept our foreheads touching, our breaths mixing together.

"I’ve wanted this," he murmured, voice rough. "For longer than I should admit."

I didn’t respond.

The marble of the island was cold and cool against my thighs and positioned between the heat of his body and my thighs. I could see the fabric of his shirt was half tucked in, and I let him remove the shirt from its tuck in, by himself, my fingers lightly tracing the lines of his stomach.

I pulled the edge of his pajama top and pulled it from his body, exposing the defined lines of muscle.

The sight took my breath away.

"I’m still in my teddy bears," I said, half laughing.

He smirked. "Not for long."

His hands slid under the hem of my top again, slow and reverent, inching my shirt up my body until I lifted my arms and let him pull it off my head. It fell to the floor next to his, and he took my mouth again.

He pulled my bra strap down my shoulder, and kissed the path his fingers traced.

His eyes darkened as he looked at me— actually looked at me.

"Beautiful," he whispered as if he hadn’t meant for the word to leave his lips.

Then he found my collarbone with his lips, grazing my skin, then descending.

Each touch was slower than the last. Measured. Like he was memorizing me.

When his mouth closed around one of my nipples, I gasped—a sharp and immediate gasp. His tongue danced around my nipple, teasing me, and I pressed myself into him, needing more.

He sucked gently—nothing too aggressive—just a slow pull that made every nerve end in me shiver from deep inside, then sucked harder, pulling a second gasp from me, and a needy whimper I didn’t even recognize.

His hand settled possessively on the other breast, and he cupped it. His thumb brushed the top of my nipple — sending another jolt of heat through me, and I felt flexible, wet from all the heat coming from his hands.

He deepened the kiss on my breast, suckling harder and pulling a low moan from me this time. The world narrowed to just his mouth, his hands and the heat of his skin against mine.

He started kissing his way down my body, slow and torturous, leaving behind a trail of fire across my stomach. By the time he reached the edge of my waistband, my legs were trembling.

"lay down," he instructed.

The cool countertop felt shockingly grounding beneath my back. I lay there, looking up at him, my chest rising and falling rapidly.

Adrien stood over me, eyes burning, hands balanced on each side of my waist. He was breathing heavily too, his breathing mirroring mine.

He reached for the waistband of my pajamas bottoms, his touch hesitant for just a moment, then firm. He peeled them slowly, observing every inch of me as he followed through getting rid of every last piece of material separating us.

I saw every part of him make the leap of faith before meeting my eyes.

There was no trace of the cold, calculating man now. Only raw need and something else... something that looked a lot like admiration.

He moved his hands under my thighs, lifting and holding me apart with almost no effort. I shivered from the next breath of cold air on my hot skin as he strip away the last barrier between us.

And then he bent down and... is that his tongue?

oh my.

The first stroke of his tongue was slow, deliberate—just enough for me to grab hold of the counter.

He groaned against me, like the taste of me did something to him. Like I was the thing he’d been craving all this time and hadn’t dared admit.

He shifted his mouth more rhythmically—deep strokes, purposeful flicks, soft sucking pressure that had me unraveling by the second.

I bit down on my lip to keep me from whimpering.

"Don’t hold back," he whispered. "I want to hear you."

His words were a key, unlocking something tight and coiled deep within me. He wanted to hear me. He needed me to stop holding back.

I stopped biting my lip.

And when he found that spot again with his tongue, a soft, breathless moan came out of my mouth, low and shaking.

He responded instantly, somewhere deep in his chest and against my skin.

His rhythm changed and grew faster and more demanding.. I instinctively lifted my hips from the cool surface of the counter, needing that perfect friction to provide the deep, penetrating pleasure he was digging into my core.

Then he plunged his face deeper, pulling me to the edge of the counter, devouring me with reckless abandon.

I’m not sure he cared about dignity, or cared about anything but tasting me and the filthy sounds I made.

I shattered once. Hard.

And he did not stop.

"Adrien..." I panted, my voice breaking. "Please..."

I had completely lost control. I felt my climax begin to build, coiling, tight, ready to snap at any moment.

Adrien was focused, dedicated to working me and relentless in his pursuit of my pleasure. His lips closed around my sensitive little nub again and sucked hard.

"Adrien!" I cried, my voice desperate and raw as my body bent, spasming against his mouth. Wave upon wave of pleasure washed over me, and I held tight to him.

He turned down the intensity of his work, stroking my length slowly with his tongue, soothing me through the aftershocks.

I went limp against the counter when he finished.

By the time I started to return to earth, he was now kissing his way back up my body, amber eyes shining back in my gaze, taking his time to reassemble me as if I were a fragile piece of art.

"That was..." He breathed against my collarbone. "You are...God, Isa. You undo me."

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