Harry Hunter grew more and more furious as he thought about it. He swept Isabella Weaver up in his arms, walked to the wall, pressed her against it, and kissed her roughly.
Isabella struggled, trying to push him away, but it was no use!
Her fists pounded against him, but instead of backing off, he kissed her even more fiercely!
Isabella, angered, bit him—bit his lips, bit his tongue—the faint taste of blood swept over her taste buds, yet Harry had no intention of stopping.
Not until her lips were numb, her clothes undone, and her hair a wild mess did he finally stop, gasping for breath.
Isabella had never been treated like this.
He had always held her dearly, afraid she might melt or break, always caring deeply about her feelings.
Suddenly, he was so brutal today, she felt aggrieved and began to cry.
"I don't like this!"
Harry kissed away her tears, holding her tightly: "Behave, and I won't do it again."
"I just took Alexander Parker to the airport, didn't I?"
