A man who hasn’t indulged in flesh for a long time will become irresistible upon encountering it, just like Nathan Moore.
Ignoring Titus Zane’s cries, Nathan frowned, gritted his teeth, and continued to persist.
"Nathan Moore, get out, get out..." Titus Zane’s beautiful eyes were swollen from crying, refusing to let go of this feast, yet unable to bear seeing the woman he loved in tears, Nathan simply raised his hand and covered Titus Zane’s pitiful face.
The faint sobbing came through his fingers, disturbing his heart rate but stimulating the excited elements in his blood. The more Titus Zane panicked and feared, the more exhilarated the galloping man became, closing his eyes to enjoy the warmth that he hadn’t felt in a long time.
Gradually, the sobbing between his fingers stopped, and the damp feeling in his palm also vanished. The intoxicated man opened his eyes to find the woman staring blankly at the ceiling, her face expressionless, numb.
"Titus Zane..." Nathan Moore furrowed his brows, gently called out, and then his thin lips descended, attempting to warm those tightly sealed lips.
The touch was cold; there was no response, regardless of how he playfully tempted, those lips remained devoid of warmth. His eyes opened, un-focused, gazing at the ceiling.
Unwilling to see her numbness, just like three years ago, she became numb to his touch after he was too rough,
He grabbed one of her long legs, hooked it to the other side, so now she was turned away from him. His large hand circled around her nape, his lips repeatedly kissing her neck, trying to soothe her fear with a gentle whisper in her ear, "Don’t be afraid, I won’t hurt you again..."
Titus Zane’s heart grew even colder.
As if placed in a freezing space, forced to be in a prone position with her chin propped on the bed, her unfocused eyes looked ahead with a bloodless smirk curling up with mockery.
This man, really hypocritical, after three years, he still forced himself upon her, disregarding her feelings.
He claimed he wouldn’t hurt her, yet here he was doing the very thing that caused her pain...
Unconsciously, those dry tears once again spilled out, blurring her vision and spreading across her entire face.
"Be good, I’ll be quick," Nathan Moore said this, although they say a man who hasn’t "exercised" for a long won’t last long, but a man after drinking becomes all the more enduring.
Unable to wait for it to end, each movement was a fear drilling from the outside into her soul, and Titus Zane simply turned her head and bit down hard on Nathan Moore’s shoulder.
Pain spread, stimulating the masculine elements in his body, with urgent breaths rising, almost feeling like a sudden death. Soon, a muffled grunt, and the persistent man collapsed on Titus Zane’s back.
"Can I leave now?" A sentence that was very rational and without warmth.
Leaving a deep kiss on the back of Titus Zane’s neck, Nathan Moore turned and lay beside her.
Feeling thoroughly satisfied, with lingering desire.
If it wasn’t for considering her feelings, he could easily go on without a break.
While the man was still savoring the moment with his eyes closed, Titus Zane had already gotten up, gotten out of bed, casually picked up a piece of clothing to drape over her shoulders, and then began to search for her backpack lying quietly by the apartment door.
Squatting down to grab it, her fingers trembled as she unfastened the clasp.
Even though the pack of cigarettes was in sight, it took her several tries to get it out.
Squatting on the ground, her trembling hand struggled to pull one out, but after several attempts, her bloodless lips managed to clamp onto one.
Her legs felt weak; she simply sat directly on the Marble floor.
The empty skin, upon contact with the coldness, shared an indistinguishable chill.
Fingers holding the cigarette, one hand clutching the collar of the coat tightly, she took puff after puff, like a person starving for a fix.