My Sister Stole My Mate And I Let Her (Seraphina) novel Chapter 91

Chapter 91: Chapter 91 GNAWING EMPTINESS

SERAPHINA’S POV

“Lady Sera?”

Samantha’s voice cut through the haze like a blade.

I froze, every nerve screaming as the sound of her footsteps filtered into my ears.

My body still throbbed, slick pooling between my legs, Kieran’s thumb pressed flush against my throbbing clit, his forefinger poised to slip inside me.

I shoved at his chest in a panic, whispering hoarsely, “Stop—stop! She’ll come in—”

“Lady Sera? Is everything alright—”

“I—I’m fine!” I called out, my voice high-pitched and tight. “Just getting some water!”

A pause. Footsteps shifting against the tiles outside.

“I should be helping you,” she said softly, concern dripping through every syllable.

Panic seized me, sharp and frantic.

My eyes flew to Kieran’s. He didn’t budge, his chest heaving against mine, his gaze feral and dark. My palms pressed against him, but he was as immovable as a mountain.

“No!” My voice cracked. “You don’t have to! I’m fine, really. Just—go rest. You’ve done enough for today.”

“Are you sure?” Her voice was much, much closer now.

“Yes! I’m okay, Samantha. Good night!”

Another beat of silence. Then, mercifully, retreating footsteps. The hallway swallowed her presence, and the house grew quiet again.

I exhaled in relief, closing my eyes briefly—it immediately flew open when I felt the pressure between my thighs.

Kieran still hadn’t let go. His body was a cage around mine, his cock grinding slowly and maddeningly against my thigh, his thumb pressing on my swollen, aching cunt, his breath hot and ragged against my ear.

One more second, one more slip of willpower, and I knew he would have fucked me right there on the kitchen floor.

And the worst part? I wasn’t sure I would’ve stopped him.

I swallowed hard, the dry scrape of it catching in my throat.

My body screamed at me to shove him away, to wriggle free from his hold, but the truth was more dangerous: I didn’t want to. Not entirely.

The way his warmth of him pressed to me, the way his scent clawed through the non-existent fabric of my restraint—it felt like being wrapped in a storm I had no chance of surviving.

Finally, I found my voice. “Let go, Kieran.”

He didn’t. His fingers flexed against my clit, and I bit my lip to stop myself from groaning against the lightning shock of pleasure that coursed through me.

I shoved against his wrist, but he didn’t budge as though daring me to fight him, as though he could hold me here until the moon itself fell from the sky.

“Do you want her to bring others?” I demanded in a sharp whisper, heat curling my words. “Do you want them to walk in and find us like this? How would we explain it to Daniel?”

The name hit him like a strike.

For the first time since his lips had crashed down on mine, something faltered in him.

I could see Ashar raging in the depths of his gaze, molten gold sparking in the dark, and Kieran’s jaw clenched as though he were fighting an invisible leash.

I could see a war tearing him apart, see him wrestling with his hunger and desire breath by brutal breath.

“Look at yourself,” I said softly, though my own chest was heaving. “This isn’t you. You must have ingested some of the snake venom, or the full moon is affecting you—hell, it’s probably both. But we can’t—” My voice cracked on the word, my throat thick. “We can’t repeat the mistake we made ten years ago.”

The silence that fell between us was suffocating.

Kieran’s eyes burned into mine, wild and pained, but the fight slowly bled from his body. His grip loosened, though he didn’t let go immediately.

“Kieran,” I whispered. “Please.”

It was ridiculous—downright foolish—the way I had to consciously tense, so my hips didn’t follow his hands as he slipped them out of my shorts.

An odd chill spread over me as his weight and heat disappeared as he stood.

I blinked up at the ceiling for a few disorienting seconds before I summoned the energy to sit up.

And then the next thing I knew, his hands were bracing against my back, gently lifting me up to my feet.

My first instinct was to lean into him, clutch his forearm, and never let go, but as soon as I was upright, he stepped back, and I almost stumbled from the sudden absence of him.

His heat lingered on my skin, his scent suffusing the air around me like smoke that refused to clear.

Without a word, he stooped to gather the robe I hadn’t realized had fallen off my shoulders.

I looked down, and my cheeks flushed when I saw that he had ripped the buttons on my nightshirt, and my breasts were all but bare to him.

His hands, surprisingly steady now, drew the fabric back over my shoulders, fingers brushing too intimately as he tied the sash closed.

The touch was almost tender, and it did nothing to quench the heat still twisting in my belly.

He said nothing as he bent and, before I could protest, lifted me into his arms. I stiffened, my hands pressed against his chest, but his expression had shuttered.

Whatever storm had raged in him seconds ago, he’d buried it behind a mask of grim restraint.

He carried me through the quiet halls, every step echoing with the memory of what had almost happened.

My heart pounded in my ears, the weight of unsaid words pressing against my ribs until I thought I’d burst.

At my door, he finally set me down, but not before leaning close enough that his breath skimmed my ear.

“Next time,” he murmured, voice low and edged with warning, “don’t kiss me back. Because if you do—I won’t be able to stop.”

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