NovelEnglishThe bodyguard yanked off his pants, and grabbed hold of Zoey's ankles.
Fitch watched the scene unfold, suddenly feeling a tightness in his chest—a sharp, almost imperceptible pain.
The smoke from his cigarette clouded around his face.
His eyelashes fluttered down as he said, “Get out, all of you.”
The bodyguards looked as if they were granted a pardon, because they knew clearly if they went any further with the woman on
the bed, they might not live to see another day.
They hurriedly pulled up their pants, nodded briskly at Fitch, and made their exit; they ran away so fast as if they were being
chased by the devil himself.
Fitch flicked the cigarette away and moved to the bedside.
Zoey's ankles bore the marks of rough fingers; the bodyguard's grip had been so intense and had left five distinct imprints on her
delicate skin.
Zoey stared at the ceiling, feeling her whole body numb, until her wrist was seized by him and she was yanked up to a sitting
position.
The blood at the corner of her mouth had spread to her lips. She glared at him with her eyes red with tears, trying to shake off his
grip, but she didn't even have the strength to crush a block of tofu.
Fitch pulled over a tissue from the nightstand and began to dab at the blood on her lips.
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇtShe wanted to dodge, but she couldn't, and tears silently fell from her eyes.
After the tissue soaked with blood, her mouth still bled.
Fitch pinched her chin, his finger probing into her mouth.
She tilted her head back slightly; unable to close her mouth, she felt the sting of his finger on the injured tip of her tongue.
Her tears flowed more freely, but she was unable to utter a single word.
Fitch checked her tongue briefly. The injury wasn’t so bad; it wasn’t going to fall off.
He was ready to withdraw his finger when Zoey suddenly bit down hard.
She had no real strength; it was like a kitten's bite.
"Let go."
His tone was icy. Zoey, with bloodshot eyes, glared at him and bit down even harder.
For her, she was exerting all her might, but to Fitch, it was barely a nuisance.
He could easily pull away and slap her again, but his finger was enveloped in a warm, moist sensation, and that slight pain
scratched at his heart.
His gaze darkened in an instant.
The next second, he pushed her away in disgust.
Zoey fell back onto the bed, then she got up again and clutched at the hem of his shirt.
Fitch felt a throb between his brows. He tried to walk away, but she propped herself up to follow him.
Finally, at the end of his patience, he grabbed her throat.
"What are you doing? You were almost assaulted, and now you're thinking of men? Zoey, were you born to be this shameless?!"
Zoey didn't speak. Her tear-stained eyes were clear; she seemed very lucid now, though her face was terribly pale.
Her dress was torn, exposing half of her bra.
Upon hearing his insult, she suddenly lifted her head with force and bit down on his lip.
Fitch froze, and before he could react, he was pushed down onto the bed.
His body was hard, cold, until a warm body leaned against him, nesting in his arms.
He wanted to throw her off in fury, but she leaned weakly into the crook of his neck.
A cold dampness quickly spread there as Zoey opened her mouth and sank her teeth into a patch of skin on his neck.
Even with all her strength, she only left a red mark.
She really wanted to pierce through that skin, to see if his blood was black, if it was cold, without warmth.
But even after grinding her teeth against that piece of skin, she couldn't break through.
Fitch stared at the ceiling, yanking her hair back hard.
"Have you lost your mind?"
She was pulled back by the neck; her body was still against his, and her lips were swollen from the earlier chili, still bleeding at the
corners.
Fitch felt the taste of blood in his own mouth from her, his Adam's apple bobbing twice, "Get up."
Follow on Novᴇl-Onlinᴇ.cᴏm
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