Master of his heart (Brielle and Max)

Chapter 670

He’d leave marks on Aubree too, but they were the kind of marks you suck into the skin–they’d fade in a few days, not like these bloody ones that screamed of a wound. He had never torn into her with such fury. What was it about the pretty boy that she liked so much?

Aubree huddled up, her skin broke out in goosebumps, and her tears soaked her clothes. She wanted to slap him, but her hand felt like it was made of lead:

The jerk had built her a fairy tale, only to shatter it mercilessly. Her sincerity was a joke to be trampled on. Her affection became trash, the kind you step on and complain about it being underfoot.

She couldn’t even muster the strength to push him away. She was no match for Andrew when it came to brute force. Her teeth chattered as she felt an arm wrap tightly around her waist and press her down onto the couch.

Andrew’s head was buried in the crook of her neck, his voice hoarse. “What happened to you?”

Aubree’s pupils shrank slightly, her emotions a mix of laughter and tears. It was always like this. A slap followed by some sweet words, and she’d been domesticated to comply.

She felt sick to her heart, yet her body couldn’t resist Andrew. She wanted him to treat her like before, to hold her tight and ravish her with mad desire.

Pathetic.

This body was tamed and no longer her own. She was utterly powerless before him.

only one stuck in hell? Why were Andrew and Tessa still doing fine, planning a wedding, and stepping over her to pluck the

wasn’t fair.

trailed down her neck, his breathing growing ragged, his voice tight with clenched teeth, “Break up with that pretty boy!”

Aŭ AE

she gave a wan smile.

his heart to his

go of her and patted her face gently. “Does he know you’ve been

years?”

feeling a flicker of energy return. “I’ve been with you for so long, and that makes me the one who’s

11.40

Andrew’s eyes fared with anger again. You think

he had indeed relished the experience of unlocking doors to new worlds. But marrying Tessa was non–negotiable. They

many have you been with? What right do you have to

call me dirty

was buttoning up her shirt, fighting the urge to cry. “Four.”

thought he had misheard, his eyelashes fluttering

her. “Four. I am dirty, so don’t touch me again.”