Welcome to Hell (by Williane Kassia) novel Chapter 208

Chapter 208

Adrian Kael

He notices my state and stops laughing, clearing his throat, visibly

embarrassed.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

The taste of his mouth is addictive, impossible to get enough of. Even

though we already kissed earlier, I want more, always more. I want to lose myself in that kiss, merge into him, and be swallowed by this

feeling that sets me on fire.

I reach my hand up to his hair, giving it a light tug, and I deepen the kiss, taking control. I suck his tongue hungrily, feeling the shiver run

through my entire body.

When he slides his tongue along the roof of my mouth, a moan escapes my lips–low, hoarse, and involuntary. I pull back just enough to savor his mouth, licking slowly, sucking his lips between mine, exploring every corner with a sensual calm that makes me tremble.

I kiss him deeper again, and the world seems to melt away, I shudder when he grips my waist, his hand moving up to my hair and pulling

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lightly, guiding me back to him. It’s a kiss that is hot, possessive, and

sweet all at once–a mixture that leaves me dizzy, hungry, and

completely surrendered.

I pull away just enough for us to breathe, the thin air burning in my

lungs. I look into the beautiful eyes of my god, losing my breath again

just from staring at him, and before he can look away, I grip his cheek

firmly and pull him back to me.

The kiss restarts even deeper, our tongues locked in a hungry battle, a

wet and addictive duel. I run the tip of my tongue along the corner of

his mouth, then slowly lick his upper lip.

Magnus shudders, and a muffled moan escapes–warm, loaded with

surrender. I take advantage of the sound to invade his mouth once

more, sucking his tongue, savoring every second of this addiction that

never sates me.

I slide my mouth down to his chin and bite lightly, just to hear the

sound of surprise that arouses me even more, before returning to his

lips and capturing them again. Sweetness mixes with savagery in

every movement, and I know that if I continue, I will lose control.

With an effort, I pull back, stealing one last long and slow peck. I sit back down on the floor, my heart beating hard, my eyes fixed on him.

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Magnus is panting, his lips red, swollen, and wet–an obscene

temptation that makes me proud.

His lips have improved so much since the day I hurt him; now they

look like they were made to be kissed by me, and only by me.

Magnus is still breathing with difficulty, his chest rising and falling in

a disordered rhythm. His lips, red and swollen, are a tempting vision

-too beautiful, almost sinful.

“What was that for… all of a sudden?”

I just give a lazy, satisfied smile.

“Your fault, love. You laughed so beautifully I couldn’t help myself.”

He rolls his eyes. I just stay there watching him compose himself, his

breathing returning to a normal rhythm, his muscles relaxing slowly.

When he finally calms down, he pushes the tray aside and pulls the

sheet up to his lap, staring at me with that serious expression that

always makes my heart race.

“Like I said… I’m going to accept your love.” His voice is firm, but

there’s something different in it. “I’ve made a decision.”

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I straighten my posture, my gaze locked onto his. A part of me fears

hearing the next words; the other vibrates with expectation.

“And what would that be?” I ask, my voice lower than I intended.

He lets out a long sigh and runs his hand through his hair.

“I want to know you.”

i

I blink, surprised. Those words hit me hard, as if the air had vanished

from the cell.

“You… want to know me?” I repeat, trying to make sure I heard right.

“Yes.” He keeps his gaze steady, without flinching. “You know

everything about me. You know my past, my traumas, and my scars.

But I… I know nothing about you. I want to know who Adrian is. I

want to understand the man who claims to love me.”

For a moment, I’m speechless. A slow smile is born on my lips, and I

move closer to the bed with a warmth in my chest I can’t quite name.

I rest my chin on his thigh and look up at him, feeling his breath

lightly hit the top of my head.

“Are you serious?” I ask, my voice almost a whisper. “You really want

to know me?”

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He rolls his eyes with a small, impatient huff.

“If I didn’t want to, I wouldn’t have brought it up.” His tone is firm,

but his gaze… His gaze is different, curious. “I want to hear your

story. Everything.”

A sigh escapes my lips, and I rest my cheek on his thigh, allowing

myself to smile.

“Well… then let’s begin, love. Listen closely. But don’t expect a pretty

tale. I was born wrong. At least, that’s what my mother always said. I never cried much and didn’t talk much; I just observed. Silence. And

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