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Chapter 71—A Cold Glance.
Last Updated:
2025-02-05 21:03:33
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I stood across from Andrew in the cold, dimly lit storage room. The air was thick with the weight of my breath, the silence pressing in on me as I watched him type furiously on his phone. His forehead had sweat all over it, and his eyes darkened with fury. The message he sent was short, clipped, and dangerously precise.“I have a job for you. I need eyes on someone right now.”I swallowed the lump in my throat, my tears still fresh from the fear gnawing at my insides. "Who was that, Andrew?" I whispered, panic bubbling inside me. "We have to be careful. We can’t let anyone else find out about us."Andrew didn't look up, his fingers moving relentlessly across the screen. He glanced at me with a cold, controlled stare, his lips thinning.“You don’t need to worry, Allison. I know how to handle this. I’m not panicking, and you shouldn’t either. I’ve been in worse situations, and each time I’ve escaped them. This blackmailer is in it for money, not revenge. He wouldn’t play this game if he
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He didn’t say a word. His eyes locked onto me, cutting through the air with cold intensity. My stomach churned, but I fought to mask the panic clawing at me.His lips curled into a smile, sharp and calculating. His hand shot out to me, his jaw tightening as he spoke. "You tell me, Allison," he said, his voice low, measured, yet with a dangerous bite beneath it. "Why I can’t stop staring at you when you make my chest burn, raise my temperature, and you look so damn good, even after spending thirty minutes in the toilet, dumping a mess yet walking out like a goddess?"I laughed, but it came out tight. "Don't say that here," I muttered, moving toward him, grabbing his hand.He smirked. “Say what? That my wife could walk out of the bathroom—the least favorite room of anyone—and still look good?” His words were playful, but there was something deep in his eyes.I smiled, glancing around at the reception. Everyone—ushers and staff—was looking at us. Eyes wide, taking in the scene. Before I
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His cock thrust into my cunt without warning, stretching me wide, and I moaned—loud, needy. He started slow, painfully slow, dragging out every inch of friction. I let out a strangled moan, my body arching in response."Needy little thing," Dontrell mused, his tone dripping with mockery as he slid deeper inside me. His hand cracked down against my ass, the sharp slap making me gasp. The sting melted into heat as his fingers kneaded the flesh, his grip punishing, possessive.I whimpered as his fingers trailed lower, teasing my clit from behind as he banged me."Look at you," he murmured, voice dark with satisfaction. "So fucking wet. You love this, don’t you? Love it when I put you in your place.” "Yes," I gasped, my fingers gripping the edges of the desk."Say it," he ordered, his pace faster, drawing out my desperation."I love it," I whimpered, rocking back against his hand, chasing more. "I love it when you ruin me." He chuckled, dark and knowing. "Good girl." Then, without war
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The soft hum of the air conditioner was the only sound in the room. Outside, the evening sun bled into the horizon, painting the sky in deep shades of crimson and gold.I was still in bed. Still staring at my phone.Still waiting. Dontrell never came home last night.I exhaled sharply, my fingers tightening around my phone as I reread the only thing he’d left me with. A text. One damn text. Dove, I know I should’ve been there. I’m sorry. Something came up.I’ll explain when we meet. Talk to you later. I love you.The words were cold comfort. A lousy excuse wrapped in affection.I tossed my phone onto the nightstand and sat up, pressing my palms against my face. I wanted to be angry. Maybe I was. But more than anything, I was restless. Unsettled. Because it wasn’t just Dontrell who had gone silent. Andrew too.He hadn’t called. Hadn’t texted. Hadn’t sent a single update since yesterday’s chilling revelation. I swallowed hard, pushing back the gnawing anxiety creeping through my c
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The soft hum of the air conditioner was the only sound in the room. Outside, the evening sun bled into the horizon, painting the sky in deep shades of crimson and gold.I was still in bed. Still staring at my phone.Still waiting. Dontrell never came home last night.I exhaled sharply, my fingers tightening around my phone as I reread the only thing he’d left me with. A text. One damn text. Dove, I know I should’ve been there. I’m sorry. Something came up.I’ll explain when we meet. Talk to you later. I love you.The words were cold comfort. A lousy excuse wrapped in affection.I tossed my phone onto the nightstand and sat up, pressing my palms against my face. I wanted to be angry. Maybe I was. But more than anything, I was restless. Unsettled. Because it wasn’t just Dontrell who had gone silent. Andrew too.He hadn’t called. Hadn’t texted. Hadn’t sent a single update since yesterday’s chilling revelation. I swallowed hard, pushing back the gnawing anxiety creeping through my c
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