Return of the Legendary Runesmith-Chapter 552 - 551- Possessive**

The room had grown darker, the single candle long since guttered out, leaving only faint moonlight to trace the shapes of furniture and skin.

The chair, an exquisite wooden one with a high, carved back, stood near the window, its seat still warm from where they had sat earlier.

Annabelle knelt on the cushioned seat, knees spread, hands wrapped tightly around the smooth curve of the backrest.

Her fingers curled over the top edge like she was holding on to something with her life. Her eyes closed as the woman tried her best to keep her voice low.

Behind her, Adrian stood close, one hand resting low on her hip, the other holding the arm rest of the chair to keep the woman in position.

He pressed himself against her first,hot, thick, still slick from before, letting her feel the full length of him nestled between her thighs without entering yet.

She exhaled shakily, head dipping forward until her forehead rested against the wood.

"Tell me when you’re ready, Bella," he murmured, voice soft in the quiet dark. His lips brushed the shell of her ear. "No rush. Just us." when he leaned, the thick head slid against her lower lips, making her whimper.

She nodded once, small but certain. "I’m ready."

Adrian shifted his hips, guiding himself to her entrance with careful fingers.

The first slow press inward drew a long, trembling moan from her throat; quiet, almost careful, the sound swallowed by the stillness of the room.

He sank in inch by careful inch, letting her body open for him, letting her feel every ridge, every pulse.

This was only the third time she was having him and yet it feels her body had started to learn his shape.

When he was buried to the hilt he paused, both hands settling on her hips now, thumbs stroking soothing arcs over her skin.

Her wide hips has always been a distraction for Adrian. He squeezed just a little before muttering, 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝙚𝙬𝓮𝙗𝒏𝙤𝒗𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝒐𝓶

"You feel like heaven," he whispered against her shoulder blade, pressing a soft kiss there. "So warm. So perfect around me."

He began to move then—slow, deep rolls of his hips that pulled almost all the way out before gliding back in again, unhurried, taking his time to let her feel himself.

Each thrust was was meant to let her know his presence, his desire for her.

The chair creaked faintly beneath them with every gentle rock, a quiet counterpoint to the wet, intimate sounds of their bodies meeting.

Annabelle’s moans came soft and breathy, spilling into the darkness like secrets.

They rose and fell with his rhythm; low when he filled her completely, higher when he drew back almost to the tip. She pushed back to meet him, small, eager movements that made him groan against her neck.

"Like that?" he asked quietly, voice rough with restraint. One hand slid up her side to cup her breast, palm wide and hungry, thumb circling her nipple in time with his slow thrusts.

"Yes," she gasped, the word breaking into another moan. "Just... like that. Don’t stop."

He didn’t. He kept the pace languid, loving; long, deep strokes that let them both savor the slide, the stretch, the way her walls fluttered and clung every time he pressed in fully.

His free hand drifted to her lower belly, fingers splaying there, holding her gently against him as he rocked forward again and again.

The room stayed quiet except for them: her soft, helpless sounds, his low murmurs of praise, the faint creak of wood, the slick glide of skin on skin.

"God, Bella," he breathed against her hair, lips brushing the nape of her neck. "You are made for me..."

She arched her back a little more, offering herself deeper, and the new angle pulled a sharper, sweeter moan from her lips.

Adrian answered with a slow, grinding roll of his hips that made her tremble from head to toe.

He stayed like that—slow, passionate, possessive—letting the pleasure build in quiet waves, letting her moans fill the dark like moonlight, until every careful thrust felt like a promise whispered against her skin.

The slow, reverent rhythm held for long, aching minutes, deep rolls of his hips, gentle hands guiding her, her soft moans drifting into the dark like smoke.

Then something shifted.

Adrian’s grip on her hips tightened, fingers digging in just enough to leave faint crescents on her skin. His next thrust came harder; still controlled, but with real weight behind it, driving deep enough that the chair rocked forward an inch on its legs.

Annabelle gasped, sharp and surprised, her knuckles whitening on the backrest.

He didn’t apologize. She didn’t need one.

Instead he pulled back slowly, with a promise of something amazing, and then he snapped forward again; firmer this time, the wet slap of their bodies meeting louder in the quiet room.

Once. Twice. Each thrust a little rougher, a little deeper, claiming her in a way that made her thighs tremble and her breath hitch into short, needy whimpers.

"Darling—" Her voice cracked on his name, half plea, half encouragement.

He leaned over her, chest pressing to her back, one arm banding around her waist to hold her steady while the other hand slid up to fist gently, but a little firmly—in her hair, tilting her head just enough to bare her throat. His lips brushed the sensitive skin there, teeth grazing without breaking.

"You like that, Bella?" he rasped against her ear, voice low and gravel-rough. Another hard thrust punctuated the question, burying him so deep she felt him in her stomach. "Like it when I take you a little rougher?"

"Yes," she moaned, pushing back to meet him, chasing the sting and stretch. "God—yes. Please...Darling...don’t stop."

He growled softly and gave her what she asked for.

The pace quickened, each stroke now rough and forceful, hips snapping against her ass with rhythmic, obscene sounds that filled the shadowed room.

The chair creaked louder beneath them, protesting every powerful drive. Annabelle’s moans turned raw, unrestrained—sharp cries that rose with every punishing thrust, her body jolting forward only to be pulled back onto him by his iron grip.

Sweat slicked their skin. Her breasts swayed with the force of it, nipples brushing the carved wood of the backrest in maddening little sparks.

Adrian’s hand left her hair to slide between her thighs, fingers finding her clit and rubbing fast, rough circles that matched the brutal rhythm of his shaft driving into her.

"Fuck, you’re so tight like this," he groaned, voice fraying at the edges. "I won’t last long, Bella."

She was close, dangerously close. Her walls fluttered and clenched around him with every hard plunge, pleasure coiling tighter and tighter until it hurt in the best way.

"Darling—please—" Her words came broken, desperate. "I’m gonna—oh god, I’m so close—"

He slowed just enough to grind deep, circling his hips so the thick head dragged against that perfect spot inside her over and over.

"Where do you want me, Bella?" His voice was wrecked, breath hot against her neck. "Tell me. Where do you want me to come?"

"Inside," she begged without hesitation, voice trembling, hips rocking back frantically to meet his slowing thrusts. "Please—inside me. I want to feel you... all of you... filling me up. Please, Darling—come inside me. I need it."

The words snapped something in him.

He thrust once—hard, deep, unrestrained—and buried himself to the hilt as the first hot pulse erupted inside her.

A low, guttural groan tore from his throat, raw and helpless. His fingers dug into her hip, holding her flush against him as he came in thick, shuddering spurts, flooding her with heat that seemed to go on and on.

The sensation tipped her over.

Annabelle cried out, sharp and broken, as her own release crashed through her. Her walls clamped down hard around him, milking every last drop as wave after blinding wave ripped through her body.

Her thighs shook violently; her nails scraped the wood of the chair; tears of pure overwhelm slipped down her cheeks. She pulsed around him in frantic, rhythmic contractions, drawing out his orgasm until they were both trembling, locked together in the aftershocks.

Adrian’s arms wrapped around her fully now, one hand splayed protectively over her stomach where he could still feel the faint flutter of her coming down.

He pressed soft, shaky kisses along her shoulder, her neck, murmuring broken praise against her damp skin.

"You’re incredible," he breathed, voice hoarse. "Bella...I couldn’t explain what I feel right now..."

She turned her head just enough to catch his lips in a messy, breathless kiss—still trembling, still clenching softly around him where he remained buried deep.

"Don’t pull out yet," she whispered against his mouth, voice wrecked and tender. "Stay inside me... just a little longer."

He groaned softly, hips giving one last instinctive twitch, and held her tighter.

"As long as you want, love," he promised, lips brushing her temple. "I’m not going anywhere."

°°°°°°°

A/N:- I wanted another Chapter of them being together since I love writing passionate sex, but well, let’s continue with the story.