You're not my type, Mr. Kane.
1710 Words
Weeks had passed since the wedding. Weeks of attending gala after gala, charity event after charity event, all with the same routine. Elena played her role perfectly; the perfect wife, the charming partner, the woman at Adrian’s side with a smile that never faltered.
On the outside, they were everything the media wanted them to be: the powerful CEO and his elegant wife. But behind the scenes, tension steamed beneath every interaction.
Adrian had paid off her debts, covered the salaries of her employees, and made sure that, at least for now, her business didn’t collapse. But the investment? The real money, the boost to her company’s future? That had been delayed. The contract was clear: until the merger was completed, Adrian wouldn’t put a cent into her business.
That didn’t stop him from enjoying the game they were playing, though. Every gala, every event, everyone bowed to him, except for her.
She didn’t bow. She didn’t shrink. She didn’t make him feel like the king he was. She challenged him at every turn, never afraid to speak her mind, never afraid to test him. And that fire, that defiance, drove him crazy. He hadn’t met a woman like her before, one who wasn’t intimidated by his wealth, his power, his influence.
But damn it, he was hell-bent on breaking her.
Tonight was no different. They’d just returned from another high-profile fundraiser, and Elena’s defiance had shown itself again.
They’d barely spoken on the way home, but Adrian could feel the unease, the unsaid words hanging in the air between them.
Elena had made her opinions clear about the whole charade, but she couldn’t walk away. She was stuck in the game. The merger wouldn’t be completed for months, and she’d be stuck playing the part of the perfect wife for who knew how long.
As they walked through the penthouse, the silence was palpable. Elena was brushing off her coat, looking out of the windows at the city lights. Adrian stood by the door, watching her. His jaw clenched as he struggled to keep his temper in check.
“Ms. Hartley,” he said, his voice controlled, but there was an edge to it. “How long do you plan to keep this up? You think I don’t see through you? The sarcasm, the games, do you really think I can’t tell when you’re not playing your part?”
Elena turned to face him, her eyes narrowing. She was tired, frustrated, but more than that, she was done pretending. “I’m not the one playing games here, Mr. Kane,” she retorted.
“You’re the one who thinks you can string me along with your little ‘investment’ promises while holding me to some ridiculous contract. You told me I’d get your help, but you never delivered.”
Adrian’s eyes flashed, his temper rising. “You’ve got what you asked for. I paid your debts. I’ve kept your business afloat. You think other girls wouldn't kill for this opportunity? You think they wouldn’t love to be in your position right now?”
Elena clenched her fists. “I’m not other girls, Mr. Kane. You think just because you’re offering me money and a place in your little world, I should fall to my knees in gratitude?”
She took a step forward, challenging him with every word. “You’re not my type. I’m not going to go gaga for you just because you have money and power.”
For the first time, Elena saw the crack in Adrian’s armor. His jaw tightened, his nostrils flaring slightly. She could tell he was angry… really angry. But it wasn’t just anger. It was something deeper. His ego had been bruised, and she could feel it.
He took a step toward her, closing the distance between them with an intensity that made Elena’s heart race.
“Repeat yourself, Ms. Hartley,” he said, his voice a low growl, the control in his tone slipping.
Elena stood her ground, though the air between them was charged, electric. “You heard me. I’m not interested in whatever games you’re trying to play. And you’re not my type. Not in the slightest.”
She was furious but she wasn’t backing down. This wasn’t just about the contract. This was something else, something far more primal. She didn’t want to need him, didn’t want to feel this magnetic pull. But it was there, impossible to ignore.
She jerked her head back and looked him in the eye, her lips curling into a smirk. “You think you can just make me bow to you? I’m not like the others. You’re not my type, Mr. Kane.”
Adrian’s eyes darkened, and without a word, he crushed his lips to hers. The kiss was angry, forceful, as if he was trying to prove something to her, trying to make her understand how much control he could take back. His hands roamed over her body, pulling her flush against him, every touch a claim, a challenge.
Elena froze for just a moment, shocked by the sudden onslaught, but her body responded before her mind could catch up. She kissed him back with just as much intensity, just as much need. There was no hesitation now, it was just fury and desire tangled together.
He growled against her lips, his hands moving to her waist, pulling her even closer, as if he couldn’t get enough. She pressed into him, her fingers sliding through his hair, tugging him even harder against her.
The back of her knees hit the edge of the bed, and before she knew it, she was pushed onto it, Adrian hovering over her. His breath was ragged, his eyes full of determination.
“Tell me again I’m not your type,” he whispered, his voice a low, dangerous purr.
Elena looked up at him, her body was alive with heat. “You’re not,” she spat, her breath shallow. But even as she said it, she arched into him, her fingers tugging at his shirt.
Adrian didn’t wait for her to finish her sentence. His lips crashed down on hers again, hot, angry, hungry. She felt the rawness in it, it was not romance or tenderness, but a man fighting for control.
His hand tangled in her hair, tilting her head back as he deepened the kiss until she couldn’t breathe. Elena clawed at his shoulders, nails biting through the crisp fabric of his shirt, half pushing him away, half pulling him closer.
When he tore his mouth from hers, she gasped, lips swollen, chest heaving.
“You really want to keep pretending that I am not your type?” His voice was low with frustration.
Her answer came sharp, dripping with venom. “No. You are not.”
But her body betrayed her, her thighs were pressed together, her chest rising with shallow breaths, her pupils blown wide. Adrian saw it. He smirked, dangerous and unrelenting.
“Then explain this,” he murmured, dragging his thumb over her lower lip, sliding it inside her mouth. Her tongue flicked against it before she could stop herself, and the sound that left his throat was a dark growl.
Elena shoved him, but he lay back on her . “Tell me I am not your type. Say it while your body’s soaking for me.”
His hands were ruthless as he slipped down the straps of her gown, baring her skin inch by inch. He didn’t rip it off; no, Adrian was deliberate, peeling the satin down like he had all night to torment her.
Her breasts spilled free, and he paused and stared at them as though he had finally found something worth worshiping.
Elena’s breath caught when he leaned down, lips closing around her n****e. He sucked slow, tongue flicking, teeth grazing, until she arched into him. “Adrian—” she gasped, half a warning, half a plea.
He hummed against her breast, switching to the other, worshiping with equal torment. When her hands flew to his hair, tugging, he gripped her wrists and pinned them above her head, smirking up at her.
“You keep saying no,” he whispered, lips brushing the swell of her breast, “but everything about you is screaming yes.”
He slid lower, lips tracing fire down her ribs, her stomach, until he was kneeling at the edge of the bed. He hooked his fingers in her lace panties and tugged them aside, locking eyes with her as he breathed her in.
“Watch me,” he commanded, and then his mouth was on her slimy p***y.
Elena’s cry shattered the silence. His tongue swept over her c**t, slow and deliberate, savoring every flick. He sucked gently, then harder, alternating pressure until she was writhing against the sheets. Her hips jerked, but his hands were iron on her thighs, pinning her open.
She tried to turn her head, to stifle her moans, but he growled against her. “No. Let me hear it.” His tongue dove deeper, swirling, f*****g her with obscene precision.
Her hands clawed at the sheets, her back arching, thighs trembling. “I—hate—you,” she gasped, though the words cracked into a moan as he sucked harder, lips relentless.
He laughed against her folds, the vibration making her nearly scream. “Liar. Your p***y’s dripping for me.”
Suddenly, a sweet sensation ran up from her toes and she knew she was close, she tried to arch her waist against him to make him go faster on her p***y but his strong grip didn't allow her.
It was a torment as he continued he torture, and when she came, it was violent, her thighs clamped around his head, hips grinding against his mouth as wave after wave of release tore through her.
But Adrian didn’t stop. He licked her through it, sucking every last tremor from her body until she was whimpering his name.
Only then did he rise, mouth glistening with her, and kissed her hard so she could taste herself on his tongue.
He leaned down, lips against her ear, voice dark with promise.
“Now,” he growled, “Tell me I am not your type.”
- Writer
