Chapter 69: Your Are Mine
Vivienne’s knees shook as André’s lips crushed hers again. Her head felt like it was splitting in two, her chest rising and falling faster than war drums. She hated him. Hated him so much her teeth ached from clenching. And yet, here she was, melting into his kiss, clinging to him as if she had no choice.
What is happening? I hate him. I fucking hate him. My knees are shaking. My brain is blank. I am a fool. Someone save me.
André’s body pressed firmly against hers, warm and unyielding. He moved slowly, savoring every second, calm on the outside, but inside, his thoughts were chaos, fire, and obsession. She is mine. This reckless, devious, impossible creature. She should despise me, curse me, spit on me, and yet here she is. My little thief. My chaos incarnate.
They murmured soft words to each other. His lips grazed her ear. "My love," he said, his voice a velvet trap.
Vivienne forced a sweet tone back: "You are mine, André," though every fiber of her being screamed, I am not. I want you dead.
Her hands trembled as he began removing her dress, inch by inch. Each button undone, each fold of fabric slipping to the floor made her heart race, and her body betray her in ways she could not admit. She shivered as his lips trailed along her spine, and heat pooled low in her stomach.
No. Stop. Stop. I am melting. My legs are traitors. My brain is a puddle. I am dying, I am alive, I hate him. Wait, why does this feel... good? My hair is a mess. My hands are shaking. Someone fetch a priest.
André noticed her shiver. He smiled darkly, his fingers lingering on her sides, teasing. "You are mine," he whispered. "You belong to me. Every inch of you is mine." His eyes glittered with deranged delight. "Every. Single. Inch."
Vivienne smiled at him sweetly, her voice honey and poison all at once. I am going to ruin him someday. But right now... ugh... my body betrays me again.
He undid her corset carefully, letting it fall open, revealing the soft curves she had tried to hide. He kissed along her shoulders, down her arms, and paused to study her like a painter examining a masterpiece. "My little thief," he said, "I could spend forever exploring you. Forever."
Her inner voice groaned. Forever? My brain is on fire. My legs are noodles. Stop calling me Vivienne, stop it, yes, don’t stop. Someone fetch a miracle.
He lingered on her petticoats, teasing, tugging, until the fabric slipped down, and he ran his hands lightly over her. "I could worship you for days, Vivienne. Days and nights," he murmured. His voice was soft, almost tender, but the way he said it made her feel like a trap closing around her.
Vivienne whimpered softly, not entirely of pain, not entirely of pleasure, a chaotic sound that made André grin. She pressed herself closer, and he responded, letting his hands trace her back, his body pressed fully against hers.
Why is this happening? I want to vomit. I want to scream. I want to claw his eyes out. But my body... my body wants him. My body has betrayed me again. I am insane. Truly insane.
André caught her hand and held it, but not too tightly. He leaned in, his lips brushing hers again. "You are mine, Vivienne," he whispered. "Every breath, every heartbeat. Do you understand?"
She answered, soft, sweet, mockingly: "Yes, André. I understand." Inside, she thought, Yes, you bastard. I understand your madness, but I hate you so much I might die.
He pulled her closer, placing her on the edge of his desk. The smooth wood pressed against her thighs, the cool surface juxtaposing her heat. He ran his hands over her again, teasing, drawing her closer to the edge of reason. "You tempt me endlessly, Vivienne. You tempt me to madness every moment you exist," he murmured.
She gasped, her chest heaving. He is going to ruin me. He is going to make me beg. And I... I am already begging. What is wrong with me?
He kissed her neck again, slow, deliberate, leaving little marks that burned even as they made her shiver. "You are exquisite. You are fire and storm, and I cannot resist you."
Vivienne bit her lip to stop herself from crying out. Her hands curled into fists, her nails grazing his chest. I am going to kill him someday. I swear it. But not now. Not now. Not when my knees betray me like this. Not when my body is this traitorous, this... alive.
André’s hands were everywhere—gentle, commanding, dangerous. He paused to let her recover, letting his fingers trace lines on her arms, her waist. "You are mine," he whispered again, softly, sweetly. "I will never let you go."
God, stop saying that. Stop it. I hate you. I love to hate you. I hate that I want this. I want to destroy you, and yet... yes, yes, I want it.
She arched into his touch, though her mind screamed betrayal. My body is a traitor. My soul is screaming. My mind is collapsing. Someone kill me now. Someone, please.
He leaned down, kissed her lips again, and she responded, the act itself a mixture of war and surrender. Her heart raced, pounding against her ribs. She could barely think, could barely breathe.
I am on fire. I am madness. I am a fool. I hate him. I love to hate him. I want to claw his eyes out and kiss him at the same time. My legs... oh, God, my legs... traitors.
André laughed softly against her lips, low and dangerous. "You are mine," he whispered again. "You are mine." But he thought. You are mine. Every secret, every scheme, every rebellion in your heart. Every lie. You are mine, Vivienne Moreau."
Vivienne’s hands shook, her hair fell in wild tangles around her face. She kissed him back with a force she did not feel she possessed. Her body betrayed her every second, her knees weak, her chest on fire, her mind a jumble of screams and heat.
Why do I do this to myself? Why am I letting him do this? I hate him. I want him dead. I want him gone. I am insane. Truly insane.
André grinned, cruel and delighted. Yes. That is perfect. That is exactly how you will remember me. Perfect chaos. Perfectly mine.
He positioned her carefully, one hand on her back, the other lingering on her sides. He leaned down, pressing his body against hers again, slow, controlled, teasing. He whispered, "Days and nights, Vivienne. Do you understand? Days and nights I could spend with you like this. Endless. You will remember this forever."
Vivienne whimpered softly, only because her body betrayed her. Inside, she screamed: I hate you. I love to hate you. I am dying. My brain is mush. Someone save me. Someone, God, kill me.
André pulled her closer, pressing his forehead against hers. His eyes glittered with unhinged delight. "You are mine," he whispered again. "