Leopold drove to his mansion, deciding it was unfit to bring her back to Rosewood Manor in her intoxicated state.
He lifted her from the car, settling her onto the plush leather couch.
Being her first time here, she looked around with curiosity, “Is this your love nest?”
He pinched her cheek gently, “You’re my only lover.”
She reached up, draping her arms around his neck, “Be honest, how many women have you been with?”
He met her gaze without blinking, his expression serious, “I’ve never been with a woman, would you believe me?”
“No way!” Her head shaking vigorously as if she were at a rock concert, “You're such a fibber.”
A wave of intoxication washed over her, making her heart pound wildly against her ribcage. And her cheek flushed and looked seductive.
He felt hot, quickening in response, “Would you like to check?”
“How?” She squinted at him, suspicious.
His long fingers slipped under her blouse, “Let me show you.”
“What are you doing? Stop it.” She tried to push him away, but the alcohol had sapped her strength.
Soon, her clothes were discarded. His gaze seared her, as hot as a wildfire.
“Leopold, stop.”
She shook her head, trying to protest, but his lips silenced her with a demanding kiss.
The next day.
As the sun climbed high in the sky, she was still deep in slumber.
Her delicate skin was marred with bruises.
He’d been too rough, and she’d fainted from the overwhelming sex.
Leopold leaned against the bedpost, satisfied.
She was so alluring, so exquisite, tight like a virgin, not at all like a woman who had borne two children.
He’d lost control.
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