You Hit My Heart by Kylie Stanford

Chapter 1996: Soul Pierced

Not long after finishing lunch, Joyce sat for a moment on the couch.

Luther returned on time, within 20 minutes. As soon as he got home, he embraced Joyce, asking, "How are you feeling? Did last night tire you out?"

Joyce gave him a sideways glance. "You have the nerve to ask? My whole body aches."

"I'll give you a massage," Luther said, making an effort to make her happy. His slender fingers gently kneaded her neck, then moved to her back, tracing her delicate curves. sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ FindNøvᴇl.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

"The back's fine, it's mainly my legs that ache," Joyce pouted. Since he was pampering her, she wanted him to perform well.

"Okay, dear," Luther chuckled, shaking his head, his hands then massaging her slender legs.

Joyce relaxed against him, feeling some relief from the soreness. But his hands seemed to press deeper, and the positioning was becoming more ambiguous.

Finally, she exclaimed and hurriedly grasped his hand. "What are you doing? Don't get carried away!"

Luther raised a seductive eyebrow and continued to explore further, saying, "I didn't do anything unusual, just a normal massage."

what you're up to.

by the neck and

she caught sight of Mrs. Hurley and

ignoring the occasion, disregarding time, and being shameless at home. After Cecelia left, there were no elders at home, this

until Luther voluntarily let go of

said, "I only do this in the presence of

Joyce was speechless with anger and couldn't even

were an inflated pufferfish. He couldn't help but pinch her

against the couch, fearful of any further inappropriate

The more you act like this, the more it stirs a

pushed him away, "Didn't you say the people from the bridal design company

I'll carry you," Luther

down, I have legs. It's not good for others to see," Joyce scolded, lightly

way to the reception room. This mansion featured a special reception room, connected to the house while also accessible from outside, making it relatively private and independent for visitors.

placed in the middle, accompanied by a marble coffee table with exquisite British

crossing his long legs. His cold, starry black eyes seemed to emit a gravitational pull akin to a massive magnet

help casting a few more glances but dared not overstep their bounds. Their admiration for Joyce