Chapter 13

Alexander POV

I sat quietly in the car, waiting for someone.

It had been a long time since I'd been this patient with anyone after that incident.

Thinking back to when I joined the military because I couldn't accept my parents' death, I realized how foolish I had been.

Ultimately ending up discharged due to an injury, I might as well have died on the battlefield - it would have been better than dragging my broken body through life.

But as I thought this, I couldn't help but coldly laugh.

Had I died on the battlefield in Afghanistan, how would I have ever discovered the despicable things my dear uncle Richard had done to his own family!

My hand involuntarily clenched. Especially just now, for some reason, seeing Scarlett sitting next to Reuben made me feel agitated.

Particularly when I saw Reuben's hand resting on her waist, I had an urge to chop his hand off.

So I quickly left the place, afraid that I truly wouldn't be able to restrain myself.

Watching the rain slide down the Rolls-Royce window, I lit a cigar, waiting for it to burn out. My little wildcat should be coming out soon.

Noah sat in the front seat, his posture ramrod straight—unmistakably an upright man.

"Are you really going to leave her in there?" His voice carried that familiar concern.

I took another drag of my cigar, enjoying how the dim light briefly illuminated the interior.

"What else?" I asked lazily. "Should I be concerned whether Reuben is enjoying himself?"

Seeing the cigar in my hand, Noah couldn't help but comment, "Sir, you just had a blood transfusion. You should—"

"I won't die," I cut him off. The bandage on my arm was just a minor inconvenience, nothing more.

I only felt Scarlett's blood now flowing through my veins. The thought brought me unexpected pleasure.

I wondered what was happening inside the Luxury Crest Hotel right now. Reuben probably couldn't resist anymore. He would quickly take Scarlett to a room, or possibly he would make his move right in the private room.

Thinking about this, I couldn't help but smile. Scarlett, that fool, must be feeling desperate by now.

Half an hour passed slowly. The rain grew heavier, and I saw a graceful figure rush out of the hotel entrance.

When the car door finally opened, Scarlett's appearance almost instantly aroused me. The emerald silk dress I had chosen was completely torn open in the back, hanging on her like a rag. Her hair was disheveled, and her eyes blazed with fury.

She looked exactly as I had imagined, although I wondered how many people had seen her in this state as she ran out.

"Couldn't you find a coat?" I asked directly.

Her response was a slap across my face. Though expected, it was still impressive. I looked at Scarlett's hand; her ring still had traces of blood on it and was trembling slightly.

"You bastard!" she hissed, water dripping from her hair onto the seat. "You set me up!"

I touched my cheek, licking the wound. "Did I?" I kept my voice soft yet dangerous. "But you're fine now, aren't you?"

"Fine? You locked me in there with him!"

"But someone opened the door later and rescued you, didn't they?" My gaze swept over her disheveled figure. "Though you seem a bit... annoyed."

Scarlett tried to slap me again, but this time I was ready. With one fluid motion, I pulled her onto my lap.

Her struggles reminded me of when we made love. Her pulse raced under my fingers—from fear or excitement, I couldn't tell.

"Let me go!"

"Why are you angry? I arranged for someone to get you out." I breathed against her ear, feeling her shiver.

When I slid my hand under her dress, she whimpered, then her entire body went soft.

"I hate you," she whispered, but her body trembled under my touch, pressing tightly against me.

"I know," I couldn't help but laugh softly.

I completely removed Scarlett's dress and gripped her full breasts. Her head tilted back involuntarily as I continually teased her erect nipples—this was my favorite sensation.

Scarlett bit her lip, a low moan escaping from her throat, her legs unconsciously squeezing my hand.

I felt a twinge of pleasure: "Loosen up a bit, I can't move my hand."

Scarlett glared at me before closing her eyes, seemingly unwilling to accept reality.

I forcefully spread her legs apart and added another finger inside her, teasing her swollen clitoris, rubbing back and forth until her wetness flowed uncontrollably down my hand and onto the seat.

I put my damp hand on Scarlett's face; she gave me a disgusted look.

I smiled, then quickly unzipped my pants. My erect penis sprang out, the head already glistening with a few drops of pre-ejaculate.

I tore open her underwear with my hand, exposing her completely before me.

Looking down, I saw her entrance was soaking wet, her labia glistening as if beckoning me. I couldn't resist rubbing against her a few times with my penis.

"If you're going to do it, hurry up," she panted, her voice commanding.

Scarlett now looked more like a kitten. I adjusted my position, then thrust in suddenly.

She cried out, her fingers digging into my hair, pressing my head down firmly. I growled and simply lifted her legs onto my shoulders.

Grabbing her waist with both hands, I thrust hard, burying my entire length inside her.

My testicles slapped against her buttocks with a crisp sound. She cried out louder, her body shaking violently.

I could feel her vagina contracting, gripping me tightly. The sensation made my scalp tingle, and I breathed heavily, my movements becoming more forceful.

Each thrust made her body rock back and forth, the head of my penis hitting deep inside her, drawing out more of her wetness that dripped down her buttocks onto the seat...

An hour later, when Noah and the driver returned, Scarlett was curled up in the corner like a cat, wearing my jacket.

I lifted my eyelids with satisfaction and took out my phone to call George. After waiting a moment, he answered.

"Mr. Harper? I have a surprise for you."

I hung up immediately and sent him a photo of Scarlett lying there, showing just a bit of her profile—her long eyelashes like small fans, her delicate nose tinged pink.

A bite mark on her neck was partially hidden by strands of hair, barely visible...

Then my phone vibrated with a long message. I only read the beginning but could feel how angry he was.

"Alexander, can you face Lillian? You..."

Even at this point, George was still using his sister Lillian Harber as an excuse. What does it matter if she's my fiancée?