Chapter 345. Even While We’re Kissing... She Still Have Some Conflicted Feelings!**

Chapter 345: 345. Even While We’re Kissing... She Still Have Some Conflicted Feelings!**

The kiss was a battlefield, a collision of teeth and tongues that left Maya feeling like her brain was melting into something hot and viscous. Inside her own mind, a frantic, panicked voice was screaming, a desperate attempt to maintain some shred of dignity.

’What the fuck am I doing?’ she screamed internally. ’This is insane...’

’This is wrong... Stop it, Maya, stop this right now!’

"Mike... mmph... stop... let go..." she managed to whimper between kisses, her words muffled against his mouth, utterly devoid of conviction. Her body was betraying every syllable.

While her mouth begged for release, her hips were grinding instinctively against the hard ridge of his cock through his trousers, seeking more of the friction that was making her vision blur.

Mike didn’t listen; he never did, and he didn’t need to. He could feel the way her hands had shifted from pushing him away to gripping his shoulders with bruising intensity.

He knew she was lost.

Breaking the kiss only for a fraction of a second to catch a ragged breath, Mike’s eyes burned into hers. "You’re not stopping, Maya... And neither am I."

Without breaking eye contact, his hands slid from her waist upward, the fabric of her shirt bunching beneath his palms. Slowly, deliberately, he began to hike the material up, his rough fingertips grazing the sensitive skin of her stomach.

"Nnngh! Ahhh!" Maya let out a sharp, keening moan as the cool air hit her midriff, followed immediately by the searing heat of his touch.

He didn’t wait for permission. He maneuvered them backward, his body a constant, overwhelming pressure against hers, guiding her away from the marble counter.

Each step toward the massive, silk-draped bed felt like walking deeper into a trap she had built for herself. When her calves hit the edge of the mattress, she fell back, the expensive sheets cool against her skin but only for a heartbeat before Mike was there, looming over her like a shadow, his weight pinning her down as he descended to reclaim her mouth.

The kiss resumed with renewed ferocity, deeper and more desperate than before. The sounds in the room were becoming primal: the wet, rhythmic slap of lips; the guttural growls from Mike’s throat; and the increasingly loud, shameless moans escaping Maya’s lips.

"Mmmh... ahh... Mike... please..."

As they kissed, a strange, delirious courage took hold of her. Her hands wandered down to the hem of her own shirt.

’This is bad,’ she thought frantically, even as her fingers fumbled with the fabric. ’This is so bad...’

’I’m losing myself... I’m getting caught up in the flow... I’m letting him win.’

But her hands didn’t stop. With a sudden, jerky motion born of pure desperation, she pulled the shirt up over her head and tossed it somewhere into the darkness of the room, revealing her bra.

"Ahh!" she gasped as Mike’s mouth left hers to trail hot, wet kisses down her throat, his tongue swirling around the sensitive hollow of her collarbone. "I shouldn’t... hnnn... I shouldn’t be doing this..."

"Then why aren’t you stopping me?" Mike growled against her skin, his hands finding her bare breasts again, squeezing them with a possessiveness that made her back arch off the bed. "Why are you still kissing me like you’re starving?"

"Because I am starving," she confessed in a broken whisper, the truth finally tearing its way out of her. "God help me, Mike, I’m starving..."

The admission broke something final. Mike’s hands moved lower, his touch becoming more urgent, more demanding, as the room filled with the sounds of their escalating need: the frantic rustle of sheets, the wet sounds of their mouths meeting, and Maya’s increasingly loud, unrestrained screams of pleasure that echoed off the walls of the gilded cage they had built together.

The kiss had escalated beyond mere passion into something feral, something almost violent. Their mouths collided with a desperate hunger that felt less like affection and more like two predators fighting over the same kill.

Mike’s mouth was relentless, his tongue pushing deep into her oral cavity with an aggressive ownership that seemed to claim every inch of her.

Maya felt her pulse thundering in her ears, drowning out the hum of the air conditioning. Inside her mind, her consciousness was fractured.

’His tongue... it’s too much; it’s everywhere,’ she thought frantically.

She felt the slick, hot intrusion of him sliding against hers, and instead of recoiling, her body reacted with a terrifying autonomy. Her own tongue met his, swirling and tangling with his in an instinctive, rhythmic dance.

She found herself sucking at him, reciprocating the aggression with a desperation she didn’t know she possessed.

’What am I doing?’ Her internal monologue screamed against the backdrop of her physical surrender. ’I’m taking it in... I’m actually taking him in...’

’I’m letting him invade me again.’ Her arms wrapped around his thick neck, her fingers digging into his scalp as she pulled him down harder, trying to close what little space remained between them.

She was giving in not to him but to the raw, undeniable urges of her own flesh.

"Mike... mmph... stop... you’re being too... ahhh!" She tried to form words, to reassert some shred of control, but the attempt was cut short as Mike growled into her mouth.

He didn’t want her words; he wanted her submission. He ignored her half-formed protests entirely, his dominance increasing as he pinned her wrists above her head with one hand, using the other to knead her breasts with bruising intensity.

The physical sensation was overwhelming, but the psychological torment was worse. As his tongue swept across hers in a wet, demanding motion, a wave of guilt crashed over her like ice water.

’Marc,’ she thought, the name tasting like ash in her mouth. ’I’m betraying him...’

’Just like that night in the cabin... I’m doing it all over again.’

Every moan she let out felt like a stab at her own conscience. Every time her hips bucked involuntarily against Mike’s thigh, she felt like she was tearing a hole in the life she had built with Marc.

She felt like a hypocrite, a liar, a woman who pretended to want poetry while secretly craving the wreckage Mike offered.

"Nnngh... no... Mike, please don’t—" she gasped when he briefly pulled back to bite at her lower lip.

"This isn’t... I can’t... I’m betraying him..." Her voice was thick with tears and arousal, a contradictory mess of emotions.

Mike only smirked, his eyes dark with triumph as he watched her internal collapse.

"You’re not betraying anyone, Maya," he whispered against her swollen lips, his breath hot and mocking. "You’re just finally being honest about what you need."

"Marc doesn’t know this woman... This woman belongs here, under me."

"Ahhh! Hnnn!" Maya screamed as his mouth crashed back onto hers, silencing her guilt with sheer sensory overload.

The kiss was wet, sloppy, and aggressive, the sounds of their tongues sliding against each other filling the space between them. She was trapped in a cycle of self-loathing and ecstasy; every time she told herself to stop, her body demanded more. Every time she thought of Marc’s gentle hands, she found herself clawing at Mike’s shoulders.

She was caught between two worlds: the virtuous woman she pretended to be and the broken, hungry creature Mike was dragging out of her.

The room echoed with her conflicted cries, sounds that were half sob, half moan, as she continued to surrender to the delicious, terrifying violation of his kiss.