DaoistIQ2cDu

It's simple. A vengeful wildfire of a woman. A tyrant who begs to be burned.  

When Aria crashes into Kael’s empire, hellbent on making him pay for taking her job away, she’s met not with defiance—but a dare. “You want revenge?” he taunts, voice dripping with dark invitation. 

“Then ruin me. Take your pound of flesh exactly where it hurts.” His proposition is a trap laced with sin: As expected he calls the shots in his bed, her contempt is his twisted aphrodisiac. 

“Hate me until your hands shake,” he growls. “But do it on top of me, where I can watch you savor every cut.”  

Their arrangement is a collision of dominance and delirium. Aria wields her fury like a blade, determined to break him. Kael? He thrives under her wrath, goading her darker, deeper, hungrier. 

But vengeance turns slippery when every command she hisses ignites his obedience, and every cold glare melts into bruising kisses. Soon, the bed becomes a battleground—her nails carving victory into his skin, his whispers a serpent’s promise: “Chain me with your rage, darling. I’ll still come back for more."  

The rules are simple: No mercy. No surrender. But as their games spiral into something ravenous, who’s destroying whom? And when hatred burns this hot, what’s left when the ashes cool?

Sweet Hatred

She walked out like she always did—hips carving a challenge into the air, heels cracking like gunshots. The room still reeked of her: defiance and violence. Aria.

Every muscle in my body locked. Don't follow. Don't fucking move. But my hands trembled. My pulse roared in my ears, feral, hungry. She'd left a goddamn handkerchief on the chair.

A scrap of fabric, crumpled like the aftermath of a fight. Or a bed. Another object to leave a mark, almost intentional—like a bait. Something I would blindly take.

I snatched it. Pressed it to my face. Fuck. Her scent flooded me— sweet. Savage. Like sweat and iron and the split-second before a match strikes.

My cock hardened, brutal and aching, and I hissed through clenched teeth. Pathetic. But I didn't stop. I dragged the cloth over my lips, my tongue, tasting the ghost of her skin. I couldn't wait to have her.

She knew. Of course she knew. Those burning stares, the way she'd bite her lower lip raw just to watch my jaw twitch.

The way she sat on my chair in my office, her thigh squeezing tight as she leaned over the desk—"Your pulse is racing Mr. Roman."—voice like smoke, fucking daring me to snap. To ruin us both.

The memory hit like a blade. I braced a hand against the desk, breath ragged. Control it. But my free hand slid down, palming myself through my slacks. A choked groan escaped. Just once. Just to take the edge off—

I jerked back, shoving the handkerchief into my pocket like a guilty fucking teenager. Mia stood in the doorway, eyes narrowing. "Aria was here."

I didn't blink. Didn't let my voice fray. "She was."

Mia stepped closer, all suspicion. "Why?"

Because she's the only thing that makes me feel alive. Because I'd let her gut me if it meant her hands on me. "Business."

Before she could protest, Niko barged in, oblivious. "Sir. The investors are pissed."

I straightened my tie, my knuckles brushing the fabric still damp from my mouth. Her. Every cell in my body screamed. But I smiled, smooth as a razor. "Give me some minutes."

Niko left and my gaze dragged to Mia, still fuming silently. Her anger didn't matter to me. It was weak. Fake. "We'll talk later." I dismissed her.

Her lips parted to form an argument. "But I—"

She trembled, her lips pressing together in a thin line. She wanted to argue but I didn't have the patience for her today and she knew immediately. She left grudgingly. I didn't.

Alone, I pulled the handkerchief back out. Pressed it to my wrist, where the pulse hammered. Her. That little inferno getting me too riled up.

I could've cum like this, desperate and silent, imagining her watching—lips curled in triumph, heel grinding into my chest. "Look at you," she'd sneer. "All that power, and you're mine."

Later, I'd lie awake, teeth sunk into the cloth to muffle the sound of her name.

But today? Today, I'd play the king.

By the time I stepped into the conference room, the men inside were already murmuring among themselves.

Niko gave me a brief nod as I took my seat at the head of the table. "We were just going over the market projections," he murmured, sliding a file toward me.

I barely spared it a glance. "Proceed."