Welcome to Hell (by Williane Kassia) novel Chapter 228

I confess: I’m scared. I don’t know what’s waiting for me. I need to

make him smile, or at least break this mask. Anything to bring back

the soft boy from before.

But how? What the hell do I do to calm this man down?

I swallow hard and take a deep breath, trying to summon some

courage.

“L–Love…” The word escapes, tremulous and weak.

Damn it.

My voice failed. I doubt he even heard it.

Suddenly, his footsteps stop, and I’m forced to stop too. He turns

slowly, his eyes wide, his expression taken over by something

between surprise and disbelief.

“Did you… call me love?”

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. Before I can react, he cups my face with both hands, his touch firm, almost possessive, forcing

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me to face him.

Answer me, Magnus.” His voice is low, but it carries a dangerous tension. “Did you really call me love? I didn’t hear wrong, did I?”

I breathe deeply, feeling the heat of his hands against my skin. I grab Adrian’s wrist, and, even with my heart racing, I let it out.

“No… you didn’t hear anything wrong, love.”

His lips crash onto mine with a ravenous urgency, taking me whole. I reciprocate without thinking, the same intensity burning in my chest, and my hands move up–one gripping the back of his neck, the other his waist, pulling him against me.

Adrian’s mouth opens, allowing me to invade, and I waste no time: his taste ignites me, addictive, impossible to let go of. I suck his tongue hard, pulling a low groan that vibrates right against my skin.

The sound drives me crazy.

My hand reaches for his hair, pulling firmly as I devour his mouth, moving down to his chin to lick every feature, every drop, before sliding my tongue between his lips again. Biting, sucking, licking–1 want it all; I want to mark him with my desire.

He reacts with the same hunger, fingers digging into my waist, and

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kisses me again, deeper, filthier.

“Put your tongue out, my love,” he orders, his voice hoarse, loaded

with lust.

I obey immediately, exposing myself to him. Adrian catches my tongue between his teeth, bites lightly, and then sucks it, pulling with a pornographic slowness. The scene is so obscene it borders on cruel, and at the same time, sensual enough to set me on fire from within.

His taste is far too addictive, as if every kiss were a drug dragging me deeper into this addiction called Adrian.

I pull his hair harder, ripping him away from my mouth, and go straight for his neck. I attack without mercy: I bite, suck, and mark every inch of the warm skin under my lips.

I feel his heart race against my chest–fast, desperate–and that only goads me to bite even harder, pulling a groan that, instead of pain, overflows with pleasure.

I lick the path back to his chin and kiss him again, devouring his mouth as if it were the only thing in the world that mattered. His scent invades me; the taste of his skin is almost sweet, savory in a way that leaves me insane.

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Holy shit… I never imagined I could like kissing someone this much.

But I do. I can even say, without any shame, that I love kissing Adrian.

His mouth is perfect; his flavor keeps me addicted, as if nothing else

existed.

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