Burning Passion: Love Never Die

Seeking solace, Millie retreated into Marcus’ embrace once more. Her pain was undeniable, exacerbated by the fearsome visage of the crab. She felt as if it were attempting to devour her.

Suppressing his laughter, Marcus observed this unfamiliar vulnerability in Millie, marveling at her willingness to unveil this facet of herself. It bestowed him with a sense of contentment, the intimacy of the moment deepening their connection.

Although she claimed to be terrified, her expressive eyes told a different story-a tale of her desire to sever the crab’s claws and trample upon it. Suppressing his amusement, Marcus hesitated no longer. He dared not delay, given her obvious distress. After all, her vulnerability was a testament to her trust in him.

Turning on the tap in the yard, he filled the sink with water before gently guiding Millie inside.

“Sweetheart, what are you up to?” Millie’s confusion was apparent.

With unwavering patience, Marcus reassured her, “Hang on just a bit longer, my love. When it encounters water, the crab will release its grip.”

“Can this method truly bear fruit?” Millie’s voice quivered, a delicate tremor betraying her apprehension.

success. As Millie’s ankle surrendered to the water’s tender caress, the crab, like a prisoner granted freedom, finally released

her gaze as she

clamped down bore the crimson badge of its conquest, a prominent bloodstain, and an undeniable swell that

Millie’s posture transformed into one of contemplation. She knelt, her gaze a steadfast beam upon the crab, her hand reaching out to

crab, perhaps sensing retribution in the air, brandished its mighty claws with swift determination, a battle standard

aside, her actions swift and decisive, lest its clutches seize her

Millie’s startled cry pierced the tranquility, stirring Marcus from his reverie. He couldn’t

her fear, Millie persevered, “Darling, do you prefer crabs steamed or fried?” she inquired. Marcus, a silent contemplator, withheld

resting daintily upon

do you think that ending the life of this crab might curtail my own? Yet, it was it that

in her memory. The crab’s grip had held her for what felt like an eternity. Even in its absence, the ache endured,

you truly intent on its demise the stakes.