Fake Date, Real Fate-Chapter 93: Loved Into Ruin

I lost track of time and the number of times he filled me, so many waves of pleasure crashing into me at his steady and relentless touch and command. He held me tight, his hands gripping my hips, moving with precision and power, while still being soft and gentle.

His breath was warm against my skin, hot little whispers of my name, liquid purity, rasping in time with my own ragged breaths. The world outside completely vanished into oblivion, only he and I existed, tangled and burning.

He didn’t stop, even as the clock ticked past midnight, then one, two... until finally, it was 3 a.m.

Sweat cooled on my skin and clung to the sheets in the places where his body had pressed me into the mattress; Adrien’s warm breath brushed against my temple. He slowed, drawing out with aching care, then pushed back in once more—slow, indulgent—like he couldn’t bear to leave me empty.

When he finally calmed down, he held me tight, our heartbeats matching. "I don’t want to wear you out," he said softly, his voice a bit rough but still gentle as he rubbed my thigh in small circles.

I felt drained—my muscles shaky, my lips sore from all the kisses—yet I could sense the energy buzzing just under his skin, his fingers still twitching with restraint. I snuggled up against him, feeling cozy, as he brushed my damp hair away from my face and pressed a sweet kiss on my forehead.

Just when I was trying to catch my breath, feeling shaky and my heart racing, Adrien shifted. His grip around me tightened—strong and protective—and then he moved.

I blinked, a bit lost and still spinning from everything. "Adrien..."

His voice was low and still filled with desire. "I’m not done with you yet."

My eyes flew open. "Wait—what?"

Next thing I knew, he had one arm behind my back and the other under my knees.

Princess style. Again.

My body ached in the best kind of way, muscles trembling from aftershocks I hadn’t even recovered from yet. "Where are you going?" I asked, breath catching. "Didn’t you say you didn’t want to wear me out?"

He didn’t answer immediately. Just smirked.

Panic—or was it anticipation?—curled in my chest.

He said he didn’t want to wear me out. Was he taking me somewhere else to... again?

God. Was that even humanly possible?

My thighs instinctively clenched together, even as my fingers curled against his chest. My body was boneless—soft and aching—and yet somehow already buzzing again from just the suggestion.

But he didn’t take me far.

He turned a corner, and open a wide, dark wood door with his foot. The lights inside flickered on automatically.

It was his bathroom.

He was carrying me to the bathroom!!

The tub was huge and looked amazing, with nice warm marble that made it feel inviting. It was set under a frosted skylight, and steam was already rising above it.

He walked straight toward it like this was always the plan, setting me gently into the water like I was something precious.

The warmth hit me right away, making me feel relaxed again.

"I thought—" I started, but he interrupted me, a slow smile spreading across his face as he brushed a thumb along my jaw.

"You thought I was taking you off for round five, didn’t you?" he said

I didn’t answer. Which was answer enough.

Adrien reached for a sponge. He soaked it, then brought it to my shoulder and ran it down my arm in slow, lazy strokes. "Relax," he murmured. "I’m going to take care of you now."

And the worst part?

I believed him.

The sponge glided over my skin, soft and warm, carrying the scent of cedar and something a bit deeper—masculine and pricey.

I should have been relaxing. Letting the hot water ease the soreness from my body, the tenderness between my thighs, the fog still clouding my thoughts.

But how could I relax when he touched me like that?

Slow. Purposeful. Worshipful.

Adrien didn’t rush. He started at my shoulder, then down my arm, across my collarbone, every pass of the sponge followed by the light graze of his fingers, like he couldn’t resist.

My heart raced, and I sank down deeper into the water, trying to focus on the comforting warmth... not the tension that was steadily rising again.

"You’re staring," I said softly, my voice barely cutting through the sound of the running water.

"I like looking at you," he said plainly, like it was the most normal thing in the world to say.

The sponge dipped lower, down my chest, his knuckles brushing the tops of my breasts. My breath hitched. He didn’t go any further—yet—but the look in his eyes said it all.

This wasn’t over.

Not even close.

"You said you wanted to let me rest," I murmured, squinting, even as my heart started racing again.

He grinned, that slow, mischievous smile I knew too well. "I did let you rest. For ten minutes."

His hand slipped below the surface of the water, with his fingertips brushing and wrapping his fingers around my ankle.

He lifted my leg slightly and pressed a kiss just below my knee then continued the agonizingly slow climb. Each press left a trail of heat behind it.

I leaned my head back against the tub’s edge. "Adrien..."

"I just want to make you feel good." he murmured, his voice deepening. "Again."

Before I could say anything, his hand moved higher, under the water, and between my thighs. I gasped, my body reacting as his fingers found that sweet, sensitive spot.

He leaned in, his mouth near my ear. "You’re trembling..." he murmured, thumb teasing slow, maddening circles over my clit. "Is that from the ache... or from wanting more of me?"

My breath hitched. I couldn’t answer.

Not because I didn’t know—

But because I did.

And it scared me how much I still wanted him.

"Does it hurt?"

"N–No," I breathed. "I mean—it’s sore. But..."

"But?"

"It feels good."

"Good," he murmured. "Because I’m going to give you more of it."

The sponge was neglected. His other hand braced against the edge of the tub as he rose, e stepped into the tub behind me, pulling me gently back against his chest. I could feel him—hard, ready—pressed between the he bottom of my back and the curve of my ass.

"Just relax," he whispered in my ear. "Let me make you fall apart again."

Then his hand moved down, slipping inside me from behind, slow and deep. At the same time, his other hand was teasing my nipple. The mix of sensations hit me hard, water gently sloshing around us, the steam creating this cozy, heated space.

He was everywhere.

Inside me. Around me. Beneath my skin.

My moan echoed off the marble, louder this time, raw and uninhibited.

And when I turned my face to look at him, to beg—please—he kissed me. Deep. Wet. Desperate.

The next time he entered me, it wasn’t hurried. It was slow, deliberate. Every inch pushed in with careful, reverent control.

And as his hips began to move again—slow, rolling thrusts that hit deeper because of our position—his mouth found my neck.

He kissed. Nipped. Sucked.

Then lower.

He cupped my breast, taking the peak into his mouth, tongue flicking it in greedy strokes, sucking hard enough that my toes curled and walls tightened around him.

The pleasure was too much.

So unbearable I couldn’t tell where my body ended and his began.

I cried out, gripping the edge of the tub, and it only made Adrien move faster, deeper—taking me until I shattered again in his arms, helpless, shaking... and he didn’t stop.

Not until I didn’t have one more sound left to me.

*****

When it was over, I slumped against him, feeling like a rag doll, too exhausted to think.

He let out a soft laugh and wrapped his arms around me, keeping me steady as the water swirled around us.

"Still with me?" he asked, his voice gentle in my hair.

"Barely," I mumbled, voice hoarse. "I think you short-circuited something vital."

He chuckled once more, clearly pleased with himself. "You make it sound like that’s a bad thing."

I swatted weakly at his thigh. "I’m never trusting a bath invitation from you again."

"Oh, sweetheart," he said, pressing a kiss to my temple, "that wasn’t a bath invitation. That was a trap. You just walked into it willingly."

I groaned. "I need sleep. And a massage. And possibly a priest."

Adrien re-adjusted himself by leaning back and tipped my chin up so I was looking him directly in the eye. His smile was mischevious. "Good news—I’m excellent at massages. Bad news? You’re not getting any sleep just yet."

My mouth fell open in mock horror. "You’re a menace."

"And you love it."

"I do not," I snapped, lifting a brow. "Keep talking and I’ll stab you with a loofah."

He stared at me for a second... and then grinned wide, completely unbothered."Oh no. What will I do," he gasped in a dramatic, high-pitched voice, "the little bunny’s going to squeak me to death."

I blinked. "Did you just—did you call me a bunny?"

Adrien’s grin got bigger. "You’re small and squishy and you make those teeny squeaky noises when you’re... overwhelmed." He wiggled his hips against mine for fun.

I felt my cheeks flush, but I would not let him see how much. "I do not squeak! And I am not small."

"Relatively speaking, bunny," he gently corrected, his tone softening. He rubbed his thumb along my jaw. "And you totally squeak. It’s adorable."

"Well, I refuse to be adorable," I declared. "It goes against my entire brand."

"Your brand?" he chuckled, pulling me closer. "Your brand is apparently ’fierce woman who melts into a puddle when I touch her’."

"That is not my brand," I insisted, though I knew it was useless. "My brand is ’independent power woman who occasionally uses excessive force against entitled men’."

"Mmm, definitely saw that just now," he murmured, dipping his head to kiss my shoulder. "So fierce."

I slapped his chest lightly. "Shut up."

"Make me," he teased, his eyes sparkling.

"You are insufferable."

"And you are adorable," he countered instantly, reinforcing the nickname. "My little squeaky bunny."

"I am not a bunny!" I pushed away slightly.

Adrien just pulled me back, pressing my head against the solid thrum of his heartbeat. "Okay, okay. You’re not a bunny. You’re... a tiny, adorable badger who occasionally makes high-pitched noises when intensely stimulated."

"That’s worse!"

"Fine. Then you’re... a deadly assassin disguised as a chinchilla. Small. Fuzzy. But vicious when provoked."

I choked. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Nothing," he said annoyingly. "Just trying to match your brand."

I narrowed my eyes. "Keep talking and I’m going to call you something equally ridiculous."

"Try me," he grinned. "You’re not half as creative as I am."

I tilted my head, pretending to think for a second. "Hmm. You can be a little too full of yourself. A little too smooth. Always grooming yourself. Always trying to act like you’re in control..."

His brow arched. "And?"

I smirked. "Peacock."

He blinked. "Peacock?"

"Uh, huh. All that swagger and shine. Pretty to look at. Loud, once you challenge it. And probably scary during mating season."

Adrien stared at me for a beat... and then burst into laughter. "You did not just compare me to a mating-season peacock."

"I did, and I stand by it."

"You wound me."

"You earned it," I said sweetly. "My little squawking showbird."

He leaned forward, still laughing, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. "You know what? Fine. But if I’m your peacock, that still makes you my bunny."

"You’re insane."

"And you’re in my arms."

The source of this c𝓸ntent is fr𝒆e(w)𝒆bnovel