Wrong Flirt, Right Trouble: His Uncle Pulls Me Close

Charlie Rhodes stared in terror at the man who had just walked in. "Quen... Quentin Blackwood?"

’How can it be Quentin Blackwood? What is he doing here?’

Quentin Blackwood had already seen Ivy Sherwood on the bed. She was like a lifeless doll, her long hair obscuring her face. Her clothes had been torn open by Charlie Rhodes.

It was like a knife plunging into Quentin Blackwood’s heart. His eyes turned crimson, glinting with a murderous intent as sharp as a razor’s edge.

He hauled Charlie Rhodes to his feet and slammed him against the wall. Grabbing Charlie by the throat, he brutally smashed the back of his head against the solid surface.

Charlie Rhodes clawed at Quentin Blackwood’s hand, trying to make him let go, but he couldn’t budge him in the slightest.

Quentin Blackwood just kept choking him relentlessly. In that moment, Charlie Rhodes felt death’s cold embrace.

"Let... let go..." Charlie Rhodes struggled to get the words out.

"You dare touch her? You’re dead!" Quentin Blackwood had lost all reason. He drove a fist into Charlie Rhodes’s face with all the force he could muster.

The back of Charlie Rhodes’s head was bleeding, and now his face was a mangled mess. He had already lost many teeth, and with this one punch from Quentin, the few real ones he had left were nearly all gone.

But this was nowhere near enough to quench Quentin Blackwood’s rage. ’Anyone who dares touch Ivy Sherwood must have a death wish.’

He landed several more brutal blows on Charlie Rhodes, who felt like his internal organs were being scrambled.

As for that already-useless "package" of his, Quentin shattered it with a single, vicious kick.

Writhing in agony on the floor, Charlie Rhodes grimaced and begged for mercy. "Spare me! Please, spare my life! I haven’t touched her! I swear I haven’t! She just threw up all over me, I had just gotten out of the shower!"

"I only tore her clothes, that’s it! I didn’t even get to kiss her, I swear! Please, spare me! President Blackwood, have mercy!" Charlie Rhodes clutched his groin, all his perverted courage and desire completely gone.

’Everyone knows who Quentin Blackwood is. Pissing him off is a one-way ticket to the grave.’

Just then, a painful whimper came from Ivy Sherwood on the bed, and the sound instantly melted Quentin Blackwood’s heart.

Quentin Blackwood quickly took off his jacket and draped it over Ivy Sherwood.

"Take your men and get the hell out!" Quentin Blackwood roared.

’I’ll settle the score with Charlie Rhodes when I have the time.’

Charlie Rhodes scrambled up from the floor, ignoring the blood covering his face.

"Just consider her a gift for you, President Blackwood. Without a man to... relieve her, that drug will cause her unimaginable pain. A hospital won’t do any good. Seeing as I’m being so sincere, President Blackwood..."

"Get out!"

Charlie Rhodes felt as if his leg had been broken; the pain was unbearable. But seeing the state Quentin Blackwood was in, who would dare provoke him? He could only stumble and crawl his way out.

’Quentin Blackwood’s combat prowess is terrifying. All those men outside were well-trained bodyguards, yet he took them all down by himself.’

’And that door was solid, yet Quentin kicked it open with a single blow.’

’What in the world is the relationship between Quentin Blackwood and Ivy Sherwood? For him to care so much about a woman... ’

’He remembered a fashion show not long ago. Backstage, Quentin had been holding a woman... Could that woman have been Ivy Sherwood?’

...

Back in the room, the charged atmosphere hadn’t dissipated in the slightest. Quentin Blackwood hurried to check on Ivy Sherwood. The moment he touched her, however, she seemed to sense his familiar, reassuring scent and coiled around him like a siren.

Her eyes were half-lidded, her cheeks flushed a deep red, looking just like a ripe fruit waiting to be picked.

Ivy Sherwood felt like she was trapped in a ball of fire. She seemed to have found something cool to hold on to, and it felt so good that she couldn’t help but nuzzle against it.

Watching the woman burrow into his embrace, Quentin Blackwood felt his already-intense possessiveness over Ivy flare. Now, seeing her in this state, he almost instantly surrendered.

"It hurts... I feel awful..." Ivy Sherwood’s voice was a low murmur, tinged with tears.

She even reached out and wrapped her arms around Quentin Blackwood’s waist.

She was far too familiar with Quentin Blackwood’s body, his scent. It was as if he were carved into her memory. She didn’t need reason; her body had already started to accept him.

With someone like Charlie Rhodes, Ivy’s instincts put her on guard. But with Quentin Blackwood, it was different. Her heart and soul had long since belonged to him. Now, with her reason gone, her body moved toward him automatically.

"I’ll take you to the hospital." Quentin Blackwood reached out to pick her up.

But Ivy Sherwood hooked her arms around his neck and locked her legs around his waist. The posture left Quentin stunned.

Her feverish breath ghosted across his ear. "Quentin, I feel so awful..."

Quentin Blackwood’s body trembled. ’She knows who I am. She’s saying my name.’

"Quentin..." Her voice was a low whisper, as if she had been deeply wronged. In that instant, Quentin Blackwood’s heart shattered.

He held her tightly, letting her bury her head in his shoulder.

"You bastard!" Ivy Sherwood suddenly opened her mouth and bit down hard on his neck. She seemed to be trying to use all her strength but couldn’t quite manage it. The resulting nibble, neither light nor heavy, was like being nipped by a kitten.

An ache spread through Quentin Blackwood’s chest, his heart clenching painfully. He hugged Ivy even tighter.

He opened his mouth. "I’m sorry."

But the words had barely left his lips when Ivy suddenly kissed him.

Her lips were still so soft, so feverish.

Quentin Blackwood’s Adam’s apple bobbed. Ivy’s kiss was clumsy and artless, but her unique scent consumed his every sense.

The moment Ivy kissed him, Quentin Blackwood’s brain completely shut down.

Perhaps because Quentin remained motionless, Ivy’s discomfort intensified. She shifted in his arms, calling his name over and over again.

He didn’t respond, and Ivy’s muddled mind didn’t know what to do next.

’I feel so terrible. I want...’

Quentin Blackwood wasn’t faring much better. His rage had easily transformed into a fire of desire, stoked by Ivy. But he wasn’t one to take advantage of someone’s vulnerability. She was drugged. When she woke up tomorrow, she would definitely regret this.

"I’ll take you to the hospital," Quentin managed, restraining himself.

"I don’t want to go to the hospital. I want... you."

Ivy didn’t even know what she was saying. All she knew was the clamoring of her own body, a desperate craving for Quentin.

Even though so much had happened recently, and Ivy had acted as if nothing was wrong, she had never truly let him go in her heart. Now, with her reason gone, only instinct remained.

"Ivy, do you have any idea what you’re saying?" The veins on the back of Quentin’s hand bulged. Her words were a trial for his self-control.

"Quentin... I really like you so much..."

Quentin’s mind went blank, filled with a deafening buzz and her words: "I really like you so much."

He could no longer hold back. He pushed her down onto the bed, covering her body in a storm of fierce, desperate kisses...

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