Please Let Me Go, My Contracted Ex-Husband.-Chapter 104 - 105- Move back to my place

Albert Wilson instantly let go of her in pain, there was a strong taste of blood coming from the tip of his tongue, his eyes suddenly coloured with a storm, and

'Cynthia, I wanted to hurt you, but you didn't want to, in that case then don't blame me for being rude!'

He said and with a big wave of his hand he threw her onto the big bed, and the man's strong body covered up with it.

His hot bro has long been taut, but she did not have any signs of wanting to accept him, he did not care about her feelings, three times removed her clothes, just like that ruthlessly into her, and then grabbed her waist limbs and ruthlessly rhythm.

As he tortured her, he whispered a vicious warning in her ear.

'Cynthia, I'm going to say it for the last time today: forget that man!'

The Trip to Provence 4

She lay there with her eyes closed biting her lip tightly to keep quiet and not letting herself make any noise under his pounding as his evil voice continued to linger in her ear, and

'For as long as you lie under me, your person belongs to me, and you will never again presume to think what else you can do with that man!'

Cynthia just laughed bitterly, she hadn't wanted anything more with Vincent in the first place, reality had already straddled too many things between them, and even if they tried harder, they couldn't go back. Lazy

In the daytime she was just a momentary sight of that dazzling sea of lavender flowers, suddenly a little sad. Who hasn't had touching sweet words when they were young? Who did not have a sincere oath of friendship? There is no good romantic agreement?

Especially when those once beautiful agreements suddenly appeared in front of you, you dare to guarantee that you will not remember the past? She felt a little innocent, she felt her reaction was reasonable, but this man was angry, furious.

He was a little too possessive/possessive!

She closed her eyes not to look at the man lying on top of her, as if that would take her mind off everything that was happening right now. Instead, there was a sudden tingling in her chest, and she hastily frowned and opened her eyes to see him smiling wickedly as he lifted his head from her chest and

'Cynthia, I saw that you were lost in thought, so I had to use this method to wake you up ...'

Inwardly, he cursed silently. Damn it. Was it that he wasn't trying hard enough? How could she dare to let her mind wander while they were doing this?

With that thought, he intensified the movement of his hips, satisfaction flickering in his eyes as her face flushed deeper and deeper. He watched her cling to his waist, trembling as she reached the peak of ecstasy beneath him, before collapsing into a soft, languid heap.

Stubborn as she was, her body was undeniably honest. Gazing at her as she lay there, her skin glistening with sweat and her breaths shallow, he couldn't help but lower his head affectionately, planting gentle kisses on her luscious lips.

"Cynthia, that's more like it..."

They say women are at their most docile and receptive just after passion subsides. Taking advantage of the moment, he tried to coax her with deliberate tenderness, hoping to breach the walls of her usual reticence.

"From now on... if you're upset, say it. If you're happy, share it. If you feel wronged, let it out..."

But before he could finish, she interrupted softly, her voice still tinged with the remnants of passion.

"Will saying it really make anyone care?"

Her throat carried the huskiness of desire, and her eyes were hazy with lingering pleasure, but the words she uttered were cold, starkly void of emotion.

Her response doused his ardor in an instant. With a sudden burst of frustration, he bit down hard on her sensitive earlobe.

"Cynthia, are you trying to drive me mad?"

This woman was utterly incorrigible. How could she have developed such a contrarian nature? It seemed as though her very existence was tailored to vex him!

Sensing his mood, she wisely chose to fall silent, even stifling the soft, breathless moans he teased out of her. What she had said was true—when she shared her happiness, others would join in and celebrate. But what about sorrow?

Some feelings didn't need to be shared with everyone. Some emotions had to be processed alone. Perhaps they couldn't be resolved immediately, but over time, they would fade.

When he finally reached his release, she began to stir, trying to get out of bed. But his long arms wrapped around her from behind, pulling her close. His voice, laced with post-passion languor and a husky sensuality, reached her ear.

"Where are you going?"

Still, she hadn't learned her lesson. Without thinking, she blurted out,

"To take a shower."

If it had been like before, she would have simply fallen asleep, but now, fully awake, she couldn't bear the sticky feeling of sweat on her skin.

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There was her own sweat, and his as well. When their bodies had been pressed so closely together, the sweat had dripped from his forehead and chest, mingling with hers, and even now, she felt as though she carried his scent on her skin.

Just as she finished speaking, someone forcefully pushed her back onto the bed. He rolled over and pressed himself on top of her, displeasure clear on his face.

"Wash? Why wash? I'm not done yet!"

Feeling something hard against her lower body, she was on the verge of tears. Her voice now carried a hint of pleading.

"Albert Wilson—"

Sure enough, her showing weakness pleased him immensely. He raised an eyebrow and lay down beside her, but his hand moved under her neck, flipping her over before his other arm wrapped around her. Then, his long legs and arms sprawled over her completely. Only then did he close his eyes and mumble,

"Let's sleep for a bit."

He had planned to take her out to see the lavender fields in the morning, but after the events of the night, his interest had waned. Lately, he had been overwhelmed with work in Vietnam, and his vacation was meant to help him relax. So, he decided to spend this precious time sleeping instead.

Cynthia, however, wasn't the least bit tired. She had slept well on the way here yesterday and had a good night's rest, but with him holding her so tightly, she couldn't go anywhere. She had no choice but to lie there, staring at the beautifully decorated ceiling, lost in thought.

"Cynthia—"

After a while, his low voice suddenly broke the silence of the room, startling her. She had thought he was asleep.

She turned her head slightly to look at him. His head was resting against her neck, and from her angle, she could clearly see his thick eyelashes and his strong, handsome nose. A wave of tenderness washed over her heart.

He seemed to be drifting between sleep and wakefulness. He tightened his grip around her like a child and mumbled,

"Move back to my place, okay?"

Moving back to his place would at least be safer than staying alone in that slum. It would guarantee that things like this kidnapping wouldn't happen again. After all, he had made quite a name for himself in the underworld, and he had plenty of enemies.

She was momentarily stunned, her bright eyes lingering on his face, unable to look away. He kept his eyes closed, nestled against her neck, his handsome features calm, making it hard to tell whether he was asleep or still awake.

Move back to his place? That luxurious, empty mansion that looked too extravagant to be real? She instinctively rejected the idea. She shifted her gaze back to the ceiling and said softly,

"No need. I'm used to living in my little apartment."

Though they were married, there should be no real connection between them anymore. Yet, he still asserted control over every part of her life. Suddenly, she felt more and more confused by this man.

He didn't say anything more. He just held her quietly, eventually falling asleep. She stared at the ceiling for a long while, but in the end, the weight of sleep overcame her, and she drifted off.

Thus, the first day of their trip ended in this somewhat unpleasant way.