Devil's Prisoner of Love by Prefer

Chapter 8: I Won't Let You Go Tonight

He still remembered three years ago when she wore a floor-length gown, dressed like

a noble little princess. Three years later, she was in black lace camisole and shorts. She was beautiful, yet she lacked the cheap allure of other women; instead, she exuded a lethal and noble attraction. The man pressed his burning body against hers, breathing heavily, his lips very close to her ear, his voice husky, "Don't move, you don't want to be heard, do you?" He pinned her against the door, recalling how shy and innocent she had been that night.

His desire grew hotter as he pressed his lower body against Aurora, his hands restlessly caressing her skin. He was eager to see her cry and beg for mercy, the memory from three years ago fueling his lust. Aurora could hear someone entering outside, which might have only added to the thrill for him. He began to touch Aurora more urgently, causing her body to tremble. She let him lick her neck and even wrapped her arms around his neck, her body pressed tightly against his.

With her seductive red lips, she whispered into his ear, barely grazing it. Even this slight touch sent shivers through his body. His hands felt like burning flames, growing hotter as he slipped them under her clothes, fiercely squeezing her breasts. Aurora almost made a sound, her head thrown back in discomfort.

"I want you, right now," he commanded.

Never had a woman ignited such a fire in him.

the coldness in his eyes begin to fade. Aurora stopped his hand from venturing further into her pants. "But I don't want to, not here," she knew he still

gaze now had a seductive power. Every look she gave him felt like a kitten scratching at his heart. He liked this change in her, using the last of his sanity to get off her and then

taking a moment to notice the editor who had just arrived. As she passed by the editor, she slipped a photo into his

question her as she handed an envelope to someone else. He pulled Aurora to the car, unable to open the door, overwhelmed by his need. He pushed her against the car door and kissed her deeply, memories flooding

habit of broadcasting

bloodshot, "I won't let you go

the car door and got in, making a "whatever you want" gesture, and the man also got into the

Grand Belcourt; it's close

the wall, kissing her passionately, nearly mad with desire. In the darkness, ambiguous sounds filled