Because You Are My Lady novel (Sharon and Stanley) novel Chapter 21

"Close your eyes!"

The man's cold and hoarse voice resonated into Sharon's ears, and her heart trembled as she closed her eyes in obedience.

On second thought, it didn't make sense.

She didn't come here to let him molest her. She had a serious business to talk to him!

She opened her eyes and began to struggle, but he constrained her petite body that she couldn't struggle out of his clutch. Hence, she could only weakly protest to express her reluctance.

Stanley's breathing quickly became heavier. It had been a year, and his body had gotten used to her. He would be stimulated sensually the minute he touched her, just like now. The more she struggled and twisted her body, the more sexually excited he got as the fiery sensation was burning inside him.

"Don't move!"

There was a sense of warning in his cold male voice.

If it went on like this, he couldn't guarantee that he wouldn't do anything.

Hearing this, Sharon became more anxious. Her lips were sealed and she could not speak, so she could only mutter an inaudible hum to express her dissatisfaction. She was so anxious that cold sweat started to drench her. He was getting more and more aggressive as he pushed her to the sacred office desk and pressed her waist against the hard corner of the desk, making her uncomfortable. She was starting to be worried and horrified.

The memory of that night a year ago came back to her. It was a rainy night and he was drunk, much like now. She was crying and crying but he insisted on getting on her and they did it for the whole night.

She couldn't hold back anymore and her tears burst out like rivers.

When Stanley realized that she was crying, it was too late. He frowned, looked at her wet eyelashes, and hissed, "Why are you crying?"

Sharon sniffed and whined, "It hurts..."

Stanley stared at her, dumbfounded.

He was moving gently enough, and it still hurt?

Glaring at his faintly suppressed desire and the impatience in his eyes, she felt as if her heart was stabbed fiercely. Resisting the grievance in her heart, she gritted her teeth, rubbed her waist with her trembling little hand, and explained with a smile, "It's not your fault. It's the inkstone that hurt my back."

Her smile was uglier than crying!

Her explanation was barely acceptable.