Especially his words, they made Ann Vaughn feel as if a massive stone was stuffed in her chest, blocking her.
When did she ever cuddle and hug another man?!
"Answer my question." Cian’s narrowed eyes suddenly turned cold, his long fingers tightening around her chin.
Ann Vaughn bit her lower lip hard, with sparks of fla igniting fiercely in her eyes, almost burning away her reason.
Answer, my foot!
He spent the whole night at the company office with Miya Yates and even asked the secretary to lie to her, saying he went out, she hasn’t even confronted him about that yet!
And yet he dares to slander her baselessly!
Seeing her silent for a long ti, as if acquiescing, Cyrus Hawthorne’s expression beca even more terrifying, and the fury in his eyes was about to erupt, "Ann Vaughn—"
The rest of his words were sealed shut between soft, slightly cool lips.
They were already very close, so Ann Vaughn didn’t need much effort to slightly raise her head and easily kiss those thin, pale lips.
—fiercely and forcefully blocking the cold words that were about to co out.
She was like a small beast driven to the brink with no idea how to vent, fiercely and willfully crashing around his lips, refusing to stop even after rubbing them raw.
Cian’s cold narrow eyes paused slightly, as if surprised by her sudden action, his grip on her wrist unconsciously loosened a bit.
Feeling his grip weaken, Ann Vaughn seized the mont to free her hands from his palms.
The first thing she did was not to push him away and escape.
Her soft white hands stretched out, tightly grabbing Cyrus Hawthorne’s impeccably neat shirt, preventing him from pushing her away, and deepening the kiss.
However, it wasn’t long before Cyrus regretted releasing her hands.
Those soft white delicate hands not only held his shirt but boldly unbuttoned a few buttons, and the lively hands snaked their way inside!
The warm, strong lines of his chiseled chest contrasted sharply with the cool temperature of her little hands.
She wasn’t simply going for a stroll, she was setting fires everywhere, eliciting a muffled groan from the man, trying to grab her mischievous hands, but she sensed it first and slipped downward along his shirt hem—
"What do you want?" The man’s voice was hoarse and deep, carrying a trace of restraint, a thin layer of sweat seeping from his forehead and so sliding down his defined brow bone.
Dripping into Ann Vaughn’s slightly open neckline, quickly soaking into her clothes.
Cyrus’s narrowed eyes suddenly darkened.
Hearing his question, Ann Vaughn moved away from his thin lips, her gaze satisfied with her handiwork, her lips curling, making her appear seductive as a vixen.
"What I want, I’ll take myself." With that, Ann Vaughn hooked her arm around Cyrus’s neck, taking advantage of his lowered head, her lips parted slightly, biting into his sexy clavicles.
With her strength, it was impossible to always hold the dominant position.
Yet she couldn’t resist a certain soone’s indulgence, allowing her to act recklessly without any intention of stopping, instead amused by her antics.
—He wanted to see how far the usual crybaby and coquettish bundle on the bed would go.
The battlefield was about to erupt.
The temperature in a corner of the sink gradually rose, like being wrapped in layers of lava, astonishingly hot, seemingly capable of lting the winter months’ cold temperatures.
Fortunately, the restroom at The Plum Pavilion was relatively distant, so there weren’t many guests typically coming by.
Otherwise, just a glance at the restroom door would reveal a scene full of tenderness.
Perhaps Ann Vaughn pushed things too far, the always indulgent Cyrus Hawthorne pursed his thin lips tightly, his hands on her soft waist constantly exerting force.
Dark tides rolled in his deep eyes, ready to erupt at any mont—
"I suddenly rembered, I’m on my period." Ann Vaughn abruptly withdrew her lips without any reluctance, her slender back straightened, the blush on her face vivid, "You better handle it yourself."
Her smile was bright, the light in her eyes mischievous to the extre.
Upon hearing this, Cyrus Hawthorne’s lust-touched brows furrowed, his eyes lingering on her disheveled dress and her snow-white skin’s enticing half exposure, the heat in his lower abdon tightening more with nowhere to release.
She did it on purpose.
She relied on being on her period, betting on the fact that he wouldn’t cruelly touch her, deliberately sparking the fire!
Staring at the little woman in front of him who laughed like a fox that had stolen chicken, Cyrus’s thin lips slightly curved, his icy voice carrying a trace of frightening desire, "Dream on."
Light the fire and then plan to escape?
She might as well dream.
"Cyrus Hawthorne." Ann Vaughn lowered her gaze slightly, thinking of sothing, the smile at the corner of her lips gradually fading, "You only like my body, don’t you?"
...
Ann Vaughn clearly underestimated how ferocious a man unsatisfied with his desires could be.
Even more underestimated... how terrifying an angry man could be.
Indeed, she relied on being on her period, believing that no matter what, Cyrus wouldn’t touch her, deliberately teasing him.
To ignite a fire that can’t be extinguished is the worst feeling.
She just wanted him to feel what it was like to have a fire burning inside that couldn’t be put out.
But when she uttered those words, everything changed.
After who knows how long, the man let out a low grunt, resting his chin on Ann Vaughn’s shoulder nook, his thin lips brushing against her slightly trembling beautiful neck, the curve drawn was ruthless and violent.
"Only like your body?"
"Then open your eyes and see clearly how much I truly like your body."
...
The rain of emotions cald.
After a long, drawn-out silence.
In the room, the curtains were drawn tightly, only a floor lamp remained lit, radiating a warm glow.
The person lying in the center of the bed was sleeping soundly, while a few wisps of smoke floated from the opposite sofa.
Soon, the man casually extinguished the cigarette in his hand, threw it into the trash, and rose to walk toward the bed.
The soft covering was lifted, and the person beneath instinctively curled up, seeing this, the man’s lips half-curved, smiling coldly.
Ann Vaughn, who finally managed to fall asleep, resisted as she tried to push away the man pressing down on her, feeling uncomfortable, furrowing her brows, constantly retreating.
No matter how she evaded, she was ultimately pulled back into the frightful, intertwined dreamscape, beyond her control.
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