Chapter 55: War Between Soul And Body
André’s control was slipping. He knew it. Every thrust was jagged, irregular, clumsy even, but he didn’t care. His body had a mind of its own, completely betraying him, and he felt his face heat as his lips found her neck again. He kissed her there, soft and lingering, and then he moved lower, trailing to her chest. He sucked gently on her nipples, teasing, biting just enough to make her shiver. Her left hand was tied with the cravat, stiff against the bed, and her right hand he had pinned, crushing her wrist softly.
He tried to stay calm, tried to act like the master of the situation. But every time she whimpered, every time she moaned softly, he felt his body twist and betray him. He cursed under his breath, Goddamn it, stop looking at me like that, you little monster. His thrusts hit irregularly, uneven, desperate, but he couldn’t stop. He wanted control. He was supposed to be in charge. And yet, she had this little smirk on her lips, half mocking, half seductive, and it made him groan.
His head dipped again, biting at her collarbone, sucking on her chest, and she mewled softly, betraying herself with every breath. He hated how she could make him feel so helpless. Hated it and loved it at the same time. His jaw clenched. I am not losing to you. I will not. I will never.
Vivienne let herself fall apart just enough to make him believe he was winning. Inside, she laughed silently, thinking, Oh, darling, you really think you’re winning? You’ve got my hands tied, but I’m the one controlling you. She arched under him, letting herself tremble, letting her body respond as if she were losing. But she wasn’t. She whispered his name softly, sweetly, almost maddeningly, letting it slip out in tiny gasps that made his hips jerk, made him curse under his breath.
She let him bite, suck, and grope, each touch making her smirk in secret. Her body betrayed her, but her mind was clear: she would not give him the satisfaction of knowing she was enjoying it. He started this, so let him go crazy. Let him break himself. Every thrust he made, every growl and hiss, fueled her inner amusement. She pressed against him, teasing, whispering, letting him feel like he was in control. He didn’t know she was the puppeteer, and that thought made her grin wickedly in her mind.
He couldn’t take it anymore. His mind screamed for control, but every fiber of his body rebelled. He could see it, the devilish look in her eyes. That little smirk, the almost innocent tilt of her lips, the way she whispered his name—it was maddening. He wanted to stop, to throw himself off her and regain composure, but he couldn’t. Every thrust, every gasp from her, sent his body into chaos.
No. I will not lose to her. Not again. He remembered the last time. He would not make that mistake twice. He tried to steady himself, to slow down, to remind himself he was the one in charge, but every movement betrayed him. He groaned, cursed under his breath, and muttered filthy words between teeth clenched tight. You little monster. I will not lose.
His hands gripped her, squeezing, holding, even as his muscles trembled. Every kiss he planted, every bite, every soft nibble on her skin was meant to remind him he was winning, and yet he could feel himself unraveling. She was too clever, too wild, too unhinged. His body wanted to give up, to collapse, but he clenched, forced himself forward, determined to dominate the war they were both secretly waging.
His body refused to stop. No matter how hard he tried, he could not slow down. He groaned, hissed, cursed, each thrust harder, rougher than the last. I cannot lose. I will not. Every motion, every bite, every kiss was fueled by madness and lust, and his control was slipping further.
And then he reached for her left hand, the one tied with his cravat. He untied it, letting it fall free, while still pinning her right hand. Let’s see how this goes, he thought, a smirk tugging at his lips even as he cursed under his breath. He wanted to push her limits, to test her strength. Her body responded, still trembling, still betraying her, but she continued to smirk, whisper, tease, almost daring him.
The rhythm of their bodies became chaos. Fast, slow, rough, tender, desperate, lustful—he could not stop himself. He gritted his teeth and forced a growl from deep in his throat, You’re mine, goddamn it. You are mine. He released her right hand finally, letting both move freely, letting her feel some semblance of choice while he continued the relentless pace.
Vivienne thought, I will not lose. I will not lose to this bastard. Never. I have him wrapped around my finger. He is under my control, not the other way around. She smirked to herself, moaning softly, whispering his name, letting him think he was winning.
The sex turned into a war neither of them had planned on losing. Both were relentless, both were vicious, both were chaotic. Kisses, bites, scratches, gasps, growls—they devoured each other with unhinged lust. Vivienne tried to stop herself from moaning, tried to act like a perfect fake lover, but it was impossible. I must be possessed by a horny ghost, she thought, shaking under him. A very horny, angry virgin ghost.
She could feel herself building, teetering on the edge of climax, and she whispered to herself: Don’t you dare come, Vivienne. Don’t you dare. God, isn’t he tired? How much stamina does this demon have? He plans to kill me. We’ve been at this for hours. Just give up already, but please, don’t come inside me. I beg.
André’s body betrayed him completely. His movements became reckless, erratic, desperate. Every touch, every groan, every thrust was raw, violent, chaotic. He groaned her name, cursed, gritted his teeth. God, this bitch is insane. Makes me want to break her more. He could feel himself unraveling completely, every plan to maintain control falling apart.
And then, eventually, he collapsed against her, panting, flushed, utterly undone. He kissed her lips hard, messy, chaotic, claiming some sort of victory in defeat. Vivienne smiled against him, still moaning softly. Looks like I won, she thought, barely able to breathe. She had pushed him to the edge and claimed her private victory.