Chapter 393: Chapter 393: Please...
This Chapter contains explicit language, mature themes, and emotionally intense scenes. Reader discretion is advised.
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Kian pushed Isabella’s dress up and forced her knees apart, his movements rough with need.
He was met with a thin slip beneath her dress; he didn’t like the obstruction one bit.
He didn’t hesitate as his hands reached out and ripped it apart. The sound of tearing fabric cut through the air, quick and sharp.
"Oh," The sound slipped out as she bit down on her lower lip. Her chest rose too fast, breath tangling in her throat.
Kian did not bother looking up at that moment as his eyes were glued on her slick folds.
He used his thumb to trace the edges, then slowly slid his index finger in. Isabella’s breath hitched.
"Ah—" The sound escaped Isabella before she could stop it. Her breath came shallow, quick, her pulse hammering against her throat, as she watched Kian, his movements shameless.
Kian’s touch was deliberate, unhurried, and the room seemed to shrink around them until the only thing she could hear was the ragged sound of her own breathing.
The moment Isabella saw the hunger in his eyes, her body tensed. Her legs moved on their own, trying to close, but his hand was already there, catching her knee and holding it still. His grip wasn’t rough, just steady, firm enough to make her stop. The look in his eyes made her chest tighten, a pulse of fear and heat mixing in her stomach.
"Don’t," he said, voice rough with restraint. "Don’t you hide from me."
He raised his hand slowly, his gaze never leaving hers, and she saw the tremor in his fingers, the heat behind his eyes. When he spoke again, the words came low, raw. "I’ve been starving for you, Bella."
Her breath broke. She turned her head aside, overwhelmed by the force of him, by the truth in that voice. The motion drew a faint frown from him, his jaw flexing.
"Eyes on me," he ordered, quieter now, more dangerous. "I want to see them—every thought, every shiver—while I take what’s mine."
Kian’s breath dragged over her inner thigh, hot and uneven, as he sank lower. His hands slid up the insides of her legs, fingers spread wide, thumbs drawing slow, possessive circles into her trembling skin. He forced her knees further apart until she had no space left to hide, until she was open and vulnerable beneath him.
Isabella’s pulse hammered against her throat. She could feel his breath, feel how close he was, and it made her stomach knot tight, made her hips tilt despite herself. Her fingers fisted in the sheets, nails biting deep.
He didn’t look up. He didn’t need to. Every flicker of her breath told him exactly where she was, exactly what she was feeling. He dragged his nose along the soft inside of her thigh, inhaling her scent like a starving man, and the low sound that rumbled out of him was almost a growl.
"I told you," he murmured, voice shredded. "Starving."
His tongue flicked out once, a wet, searing stroke just above the place she ached the most. She gasped, her hips jerking, a helpless little sound breaking free. His grip on her thighs tightened instantly, steadying her, pinning her back down.
"Stay still," he warned, but his voice cracked on the last word. "Let me."
Another slow drag of his tongue, deliberate, devastating, up along the edge of her, his thumb circling her at the same time. Isabella let out a sound she didn’t recognize as her own. Her head tipped back, hair spilling across the sheets, her eyes wide and wet as she stared at the ceiling, trying to remember how to breathe.
Kian’s hands kept her open, his thumbs pressing, coaxing. His mouth hovered just above her, lips parted, breath hot against the slick heat of her skin. When he spoke again it was a whisper, more promise than words. "Mine, Bella. All of this."
Her hips twitched, a sob of air catching in her throat. She wanted to close her legs, wanted to press herself up into him at the same time. She couldn’t tell where the fear ended and the heat began.
Kian’s jaw flexed, his eyes burning up the length of her body. "Look at me," he said again, a command this time, rough and low. "I want you watching when I taste you."
She turned her head slowly, caught by the weight of his voice, and their eyes met — his, dark and hungry; hers, wide and glassy with tears. The corner of his mouth curved, not a smile but something far more dangerous.
Then, with a low growl, he bent his head and finally closed the distance. Every muscle in his back tightened and rolled, shadows carving across his skin like coiled rope. The air thickened, humming with the sound of their breathing — hers too fast, his measured, predatory calm.
His palms slid upward along her thighs, parting them with unhurried strength until she had no choice but to open for him. He moved like a man tracing a map he already knew by heart; slow, certain, hungry.
The first touch of his mouth made her gasp — a small, startled sound that broke apart halfway into a moan. He didn’t stop. He drew her in, his pace deliberate, building and building until the sound of her breathing filled the room.
Her hands fumbled for something to hold, finding his hair instead. The coarse strands tangled in her fingers, and she tugged once — not to pull him away, but closer. Kian’s answering sound was a low growl against her skin, a warning and a promise all at once.
He changed the rhythm. Drew it out. Slow. Then faster. Then slow again until she was shaking, until every part of her strained toward him. Her legs trembled, her chest heaved, her head fell back against the pillow. The world narrowed to the pull of his mouth, the press of his hands, the raw heat coiling low in her stomach.
"Please..." The word escaped her lips, shaky and broken, and she didn’t even know what she was begging for — only that she needed him to keep going, to never stop.
Kian froze. The sound of her plea hit him harder than he expected, slicing straight through the haze.
He lifted his head, his breathing harsh, his lips slick and swollen. For a moment, she thought he’d misunderstood — that he’d lost the rhythm — and her confusion flickered through her eyes, wide and glistening.
He looked up at her then, eyes black with hunger, his voice a low rasp that crawled down her spine.
"Not yet."
The words landed like a brand.
He pushed himself up, his body sliding over hers until she could feel the heat of him through his clothes, the weight of him pressing her down into the sheets. Her fingers trembled as they brushed his shoulders, unsure if she was trying to pull him closer or push him away.
He caught her chin in his hand and tilted her face up toward his. His mouth found hers again — not gentle this time, not soft — a claiming kiss, deep and consuming, stealing the breath right out of her lungs.
And just as she melted into it, just as her pulse crashed against his lips, he deepened the kiss further... and the world seemed to tilt and stop right there.