He Waited She Wilted (Ottilie and Yorath) novel Chapter 210

His hands were terrifyingly strong and ice-cold against her skin.

His blinding rage bled directly through his touch.

He was usually a master of self-control, practically immune to anger.

Even when he was intense in bed, he had always prioritized her comfort.

Even in the early days when she was reluctant, he had ensured she felt pleasure.

But now, pure terror consumed her.

She thrashed wildly against her restraints, but he simply pinned her lower back with one hand, immobilizing her entirely, and swung his other hand down hard against her rear.

The sheer force of the slap tore a sharp, painful cry from her throat.

"It hurts..."

Before she could recover, a second strike landed fiercely.

"Plotting against me? Setting a trap for me? Are you tired of living, Ottilie?"

His voice was terrifyingly calm, laced with a psychopathic edge that made her blood run cold.

Whether from the searing pain or absolute terror, tears welled in her eyes.

"I told you I'm done with you! I hate sleeping with you! The very thought of your touch sickens me!"

The vicious strikes instantly ceased.

The hand pinning her spine turned to stone.

A split second later, a rock-solid chest slammed against her back, crushing her weightlessly into the mattress.

Yorath's fingers dug mercilessly into her jaw, wrenching her face toward him.

He stared down at her tear-reddened eyes, the flushed corners resembling smeared rouge—an intoxicating, ruinous portrait of seduction.

"Say that again."

"You are disgusting!" she screamed.

Erupting from her beautiful lips, those words carried a lethal, devastating payload.

"I'm disgusting?" he spat back, practically feral. "Is Lachlan not? Is your precious Yves Walden entirely pure?"

The lawyer was completely unhinged. His eyes were bloodshot, radiating a rage so volcanic it threatened to incinerate her on the spot.

"Both of them are a million times better than you! Especially Yves! You don't even deserve to speak his name!"

A dark, manic laugh ripped from his throat.

He crushed his mouth violently against hers.

Sealing off her suicidal provocations and forcing her lips to endure his punishment.

She thrashed her head to escape, but he only deepened the invasion.

Devouring her breath until she was completely starved of oxygen, too weak to form another insult.

Yorath remained deathly silent.

She pressed the blade deeper.

"And what about your treasured VIP locked away at The Empyrean?

"Are you discarding her, too? Or is she just a dead fish in bed?

"Were you forced to crawl back to me just to satisfy your basic, animal urges?"

That final barb violently shattered whatever restraint he had left.

A terrifying, razor-sharp chill flooded his eyes, and his expression hardened into pure malice.

The grip on her jaw tightened excruciatingly, sending shockwaves of agony through her skull.

"Do not ever speak of her like that."

A bitter, mocking laugh burst from her lips.

"I insult her, and it breaks your heart?

"Is this how sick and fragmented a man's soul gets?

"You worship her with all your love, but you vent all your filthy, animal lust onto me.

"Doesn't that bother her?"