Revenge amnesia upgraded to his brother novel Chapter 152

Chapter 152

Norah’s POV

My mind went blank. I just stared, trying to process what was happening.

The world felt fuzzy and slow.

Finished

“If you won’t beg me,” Lucien’s voice cut through the fog, cold and clear, “then finish it yourself.” He paused, letting the words sink in. “Let’s see if you can make yourself come without me.”

The metal rod was still in my hand. It hummed against my palm, a weak, annoying vibration. It wasn’t pleasure.

It was a joke. A reminder that I was trapped, that he was in charge. I looked down at the stupid thing, then back up at him.

He wasn’t even on the bed

anymore.

He’d moved to a big, plush sofa across the room.

He just leaned back, one leg crossed over the other, totally relaxed.

He watched me. Not like a lover. Like someone watching a play.

A show he’d paid for. His eyes were dark and heavy, taking in every twitch, every shameful tremble.

Shame hit me like a truck. Hot, sickening, complete.

“I don’t want this,” I spat out.

The words were thick.

I put all my anger, all my weak strength into my arm, and I threw the rod away from me b

It hit the wooden floor with a loud clatterand spun into a corner. It kept buzzing there, a faint, pathetic sound, like a dying insect.

Lucien didn’t move. He just raised one eyebrow.

Just a little.

A spark of something–interest, maybe amusement–flashed in his eyes. It made me angrier.

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Chapter 152

I pushed myself up onto my knees.

My muscles screamed. Everything ached. I dragged myself to the edge of the bed.

My bare feet touched the thick carpet. I stood up.

My legs shook so bad I thought I’d fall. But I didn’t. I made them move. One step. Then another. I walked toward him.

My whole body was still trembling.

From what he’d done. From anger. From effort.

My legs felt like wet paper. But I kept walking until I was standing right in front of him.

I took a deep breath.

I tried to steady myself. My heart was a wild drum in my chest.

Then I reached out. My hand went to his belt.

My fingers found the cold, hard metal of the buckle.

And I froze.

Finished

My right hand. The scar there, pale and ugly, looked horrible in the light. It seemed to glow. And my hand… it was shaking. Not a little. A real, bad tremor.

It wasn’t from fear. It wasn’t from wanting him.

The old injury. My hand was useless.

It couldn’t even hold a pen right most days. How was it supposed to work a complicated buckle?

I pulled my right hand back. I tried with my left.

My left hand was better.

But it was still clumsy. Stupid.

My fingernails–short, practical–scraped against the metal.

The sound was sharp and ugly in the quiet room.

I fumbled. I pulled. The buckle didn’t move. Not even a little.

Lucien didn’t say a word. He didn’t help.

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Chapter 152

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* Finishe

He didn’t smirk. He just sat there. He just watched.

His face was a blank wall. Calm. Empty.

I couldn’t read anything in it.

I tried again. And again. Three times.

My breath started coming faster, not from desire, but from a hot, rising wave of frustration. It burned in my throat.

My eyes stung. This was so humiliating. I couldn’t even do this simple thing.

I

gave up. My hands fell to my sides.

pure

I looked at his face. Still calm. Still impassive. Like none of this mattered. Like Ididn’t matter. A sharp, bitter anger rose up.

I bit down on my lip, hard. I tasted the coppery tang of blood.

Fine.

If my hands wouldn’t work, I’d use something else.

I made a decision. I leaned down. I bent at the waist, putting my face level with his belt. It was an awkward, desperate move.

I felt ridiculous. My face was so close to him.

The fine wool of his trousers brushed my cheek. I could feel the heat of his body through the fabric.

The hard, solid muscle of his abdomen.

I opened my mouth. I used my teeth to grab the metal buckle. I tugged, trying to get the mechanism to release.

And that’s when I really understood.

Beneath the fabric, under my cheek, he was hard. Very hard. His body was reacting, just like it was supposed to.

But he wasn’t.

He was still… perfectly calm. Ice cold. A statue.

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