Chapter 620 Taken Away by Quentin 1
Grace merely lifted her head and looked at him with a cold gaze.
She smiled, but her eyes remained devoid of warmth. "Mr. Taft, you must be joking. How am I dressed?"
"Besides, hasn't my broken body already been seen by others?"
"Have you forgotten, Mr. Taft? You were the one who released those photos yourself!"
Mentioning the past, Quentin exuded a chilling aura. "Grace, I told you, never bring that up again."
"Why shouldn't I? I insist on bringing it up."
Grace had already been deeply hurt by him, so there was nothing left to hide.
"Grace, are you deliberately opposing me?"
"Mr. Taft, you must be joking. How could I be opposing you? It's you, with your high status and power, who refuses to let a small person like me go."
As soon as she finished speaking, Quentin suddenly pulled her into his arms.
Grace struggled violently. "Bastard, let go of me."
"Impossible, Grace. I'm telling you, in life, you're mine; in death, you're my ghost. I want us to be buried together, even in death."
"Madman."
Grace cursed, then suddenly lowered her head.
She opened her mouth and bit down hard on Quentin's shoulder.
Caught off guard, Quentin let out a muffled groan.
But his hands still held onto Grace, not loosening at all.
Eventually, blood seeped from Quentin's shoulder, and Grace's mouth was stained with bright red blood.
Yet Quentin didn't stop walking, continuing forward.
Outside, he pressed Grace against the car.
The cold wind howled around them, chilling them to the bone.
"I'm cold, let go..."
Grace shivered violently, not even finishing her sentence.
Suddenly, Quentin lowered his head, his thin lips pressing down hard.
One hand gripped her chin, forcing her to tilt her head back and accept his scorching kiss.
Grace struggled with all her might, but it was useless.
Quentin was like a ravenous wolf, domineering, forceful, frenzied, a complete demon.
In the end, she couldn't hold back, and tears streamed down her cheeks.
Abruptly, Quentin seemed to come to his senses.
Releasing her, he cupped her face, gently wiping her tears while speaking in a devilish tone. "Grace, remember, you are my lover."
Then, his long fingers touched her lips, deliberately rubbing the fresh blood at the corner of her mouth.
He said, "Not just a bit of blood, even my life, I'll give it all to you, okay?"
Grace looked at him with an indifferent expression.
"Quentin, what's the point? I don't care about your life."
"I only ask you to let me go. From now on, we go our separate ways, never to meet again."
Quentin encircled her from behind, his domineering voice close to her delicate earlobe, cold and heartless.
"Grace, that's completely out of the question."
"In this lifetime, I advise you to give up that idea."
Grace closed her eyes in exhaustion.
She had known the answer all along, but she asked, unwilling to give up.
The wind howled, and she was freezing.
Though wrapped in Quentin's suit jacket, her bare feet were exposed to the cold wind.
She was so cold that her teeth chattered uncontrollably.
But she bit her lip and said nothing.
"Are you cold?"
Quentin carried her into the car, bending down to ask gently.
Warm air soon enveloped them as the temperature in the car rose.
Quentin held her tighter. "Feeling better?"
Grace couldn't be bothered to respond.
She was tired and just wanted to sleep.
Her tiny body curled into the corner of the car, she closed her eyes.
Though the car was warming up, her feet were still cold.
Her little feet were red from the cold, almost devoid of any warmth, like two small ice blocks.
As she gently rubbed her feet together for warmth, suddenly, Quentin grabbed her feet.
Instinctively, she shrank back, curling up in fear.
"Quentin, don't touch me. What are you doing?"
"Don't worry, I won't hurt you."
The next moment, Grace felt a warm sensation.
Quentin's hands held her feet, gently rubbing them, warming them over and over.
His warmth was undeniable, almost magical, as her feet quickly regained their heat.
However, when Grace realized it was Quentin's hands warming her feet, she was stunned, unable to believe her eyes.
He was warming her feet?
It was unbelievable.
But soon, she calmed down.
Because she knew it was all an illusion, Quentin had no conscience.
"Let go of me!" she shouted.
Quentin didn't let go; instead, he held her feet even tighter.
"Aren't you tired? Sleep on my shoulder, it's comfortable."
"I'm not tired."
They got out of the car.
As soon as they returned to the room, Grace was thrown onto the bed.
Immediately, his tall, muscular body pressed down, radiating heat.
His lips bit her earlobe, angry yet ambiguous. "Since you don't want to sleep, let's make love. You'll sleep soundly when you're tired."
Grace glared at him. "Quentin, is sex all you think about?"
Quentin gritted his teeth. "No."
With that, his scorching lips fell on her long neck like fire.
His hands tore at her clothes with force.
Grace always thought she was strong, but when this moment truly came, all her nightmares came crashing down.
She couldn't hold back, a tear slid down her cheek, her voice trembling.
"Quentin, don't you find this disgusting?"
Quentin's actions suddenly froze.
His eyes, like burning flames, filled with terrifying danger, stared at her.
"Grace." He spoke, almost spitting her name in hatred. "Do you believe I could strangle you?"
"I believe." She answered decisively, without hesitation.
Back then, his every move, every plan, wasn't it all to force her to death?
Now, saying this was just too hypocritical.
"Grace, you are..." Quentin looked at her, gritting his teeth.
If he could, he would swallow Grace whole.
Suddenly, he leaned down, his scorching lips almost devouring hers.
Then, moving to her neck, he sucked hard, leaving several red marks. Moving lower, his hot lips fell on her abdomen.
Suddenly, Grace's body felt like it was hit by an electric current, struggling violently. "Get off, let go of me."
"Impossible."
Suddenly, her clothes were torn to shreds.
He mercilessly threw them to the ground.
"Grace, I told you, you can only be my..."
Before Quentin could finish his sentence.
Suddenly, seeing the scar on her abdomen, he froze.
His eyes widened, staring intently at the scar.
"Grace." When he spoke again, his voice was as cold as an ice blade. "Tell me, what's with the scar on your abdomen?"
"Tell me, who is that man?"
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