Chapter 25: Riding Like Madness
Two years ago
Vivienne was younger, but her smug expression was the same as always. She sat in a cold little cottage with a fire crackling in the hearth. The smell of damp wood filled the air.
Delphine sat beside her, stiff and quiet.
Madame Mireille paced across the room with her sharp eyes fixed on both girls. "Your target is bigger this time. A young baron. He is into paintings. The plan is simple. One of you will play the role of a widowed lady, meet him at his favorite gallery, and gain his trust. Or maybe his balls. Then rob him. They say his mother’s necklace is worth a fortune. A rare black diamond. Do you think you can handle the job, Delphine?"
Delphine straightened her back. "Yes. I can."
The words had barely left her mouth when Vivienne let out a loud snicker. She tilted her head with mock pity. "What will you fucking do, Delphie? Write a shitty little song for him so he fancies you? Maybe wait fifty, sixty years until his dying bed, and he’ll finally give you the necklace out of pity. How sweet, Delphie. Truly poetic."
Delphine’s jaw tightened. She wanted to snap, but she kept her mouth shut.
Vivienne sighed, flipping her hair back. "I didn’t want to do it, but I will."
Delphine scoffed, her cheeks red. "You’re acting like this because I messed up one job."
Vivienne’s smirk widened. "Yes. Because that’s the difference between you and me. I never mess the job."
Her eyes glinted as she leaned closer, voice low and sharp. "Should I tell you a secret, Delphie? It’s about control. You want a man to fall for you? Make him think he’s in control. Make him believe you’re powerless. Make him believe he’s winning. Then, when he least expects it, flip it. Use his own control against him. That way, you’ll have him wrapped around your little finger. Works every fucking time."
Delphine turned away, but Vivienne just leaned back smugly. She always won. Always.
---
The present
Vivienne was still on his lap, her lips locked to his like she wanted to swallow him whole. The kiss was hot, messy, angry, desperate. She bit down hard on his bottom lip and he groaned into her mouth, tasting his own blood mixed with her spit. She smirked against him.
When they finally broke apart, both of them were gasping, breathless, their chests heaving as if they had run ten miles. Their lips were wet and red, swollen from how rough they had been.
Vivienne pressed her forehead to his, her hair clinging to her sweaty face. "Not enough," she whispered, half a growl.
André’s eyes burned into hers. "Never enough."
It wasn’t. Not for her. Not for him. Their bodies screamed louder than their thoughts.
Slowly, deliberately, André’s hand moved to the string in her hair. He tugged at it gently until the knot loosened, and her hair spilled down in like a black waterfall, falling over her shoulders down to her waist, brushing against his chest. He let out a soft sigh, like he was admiring a masterpiece.
"You’re too beautiful," he murmured, almost sweet.
Vivienne’s eyes narrowed. Beautiful my ass. Sweet-tongued bastard. But out loud she only giggled faintly, brushing her lips across his cheek.
André leaned back onto the bed, pulling her down with him, guiding her body until she straddled him fully.
Her thighs pressed to his hips. Her skin burned against his.
She shifted her hips and felt him hard against her, and her body screamed for more. She wanted to curse herself, curse him, curse the entire world for how much she craved him, but she couldn’t stop.
Her hands pressed to his chest, her nails digging in just a little as she lowered herself onto him.
The sound she made wasn’t soft. It was raw. It ripped out of her throat without her permission.
André groaned loudly, his hands instantly gripping her thighs, holding her tight, guiding her down onto him like he couldn’t get enough.
Vivienne threw her head back, her hair spilling across her shoulders, sweat shining against her skin. She started slow, rocking her hips gently, her lips parted as soft moans escaped her.
But slow wasn’t enough.
Not for her.
Not for him.
Not for either of them.
Her craving hit her like fire, and she lost all control. Her hips moved faster, harder, desperate, as if she wanted to break him with her body.
André growled, his hands moving to her waist, pulling her closer, deeper, faster. His nails dug into her skin, leaving marks.
Vivienne gasped, moaned, cried, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t. She had long given up fighting her desires. Her body wanted him, wanted more, wanted everything.
But her mind? Oh, her mind stayed sharp, deadly, smiling cruelly behind her sweet moans. Because she knew. She was in control.
She leaned down, her lips brushing his, kissing him softly, painfully slow even as her hips moved fast and wild.
Her moans spilled into his mouth, her breath hot against him, her tongue sliding against his slowly, lazily, torturing him while her body rode him like madness.
André kissed her back like a man starved, groaning her name into her mouth. "Vivienne," he whispered again and again, so soft, so tender, like he was in love with her.
And Vivienne’s chest tightened at the sound. For a split second, she almost believed it. She almost gave in. She almost lost.
But then she remembered. She had to stay in control. Don’t you dare lose to this bastard.
Still, her lips curved in a small smile as she moaned into him, her nails dragging across his chest, leaving red trails.
The air grew hotter. Their bodies slick with sweat. Their hearts pounding, breaths uneven.
Neither of them wanted to surrender.
It wasn’t just sex anymore. No. This was war.
The weapon was their bodies. The battlefield was the bed. The prize? Control.
Vivienne’s eyes blazed as she moved faster, her moans turning sharper, louder, breaking into cries she couldn’t hold back anymore.
She cursed him in her head with every thrust. Die. Choke. Rot. I hope you burn in hell, bastard.
But her lips whispered sweet nothings into his ear, her voice breaking from desire. "André... oh God, André..."
Her voice saying his name did something to him.
André’s body jerked, his breath shuddered, his head tilted back. He groaned her name louder, clutching her tighter, his lips desperate as he pulled her down to kiss him again.
His kisses were messy now. Hungry. He moaned against her mouth, against her neck, biting her skin, sucking at her collarbone.
He was losing control.
And Vivienne felt it.
Her smirk curved even through her cries.
Her nails dug harder into his chest, dragging down his skin. He hissed in pain but it only pushed him further.
She leaned in close, whispering into his ear, her voice breathy, cruel. "I love you..."
Her words were honey, but her eyes were knives.
André’s grip tightened, his lips pressed to her neck as he groaned.
He came undone, shuddering, holding her tightly as he lost himself completely.
Vivienne watched him, her smirk hidden in the softness of her moans, her cries blending into his.
When it was over, she collapsed against his chest, her hair sticking to his damp skin, her breath still heavy, her body trembling.
André’s hand slid down her back, his voice hoarse but soft. "Vivienne... I love you"
She only smirked faintly against his chest, whispering sweetly, "I love you too."
But in her head she laughed. I was right. I am always in control.
André closed his eyes, his lips curving into a faint smile. Think that if you want. Flatter yourself for now, darling. You won’t win next time. Because next time, little theif, I’ll break you.