Vengeance in His Bed novel Chapter 149

Chapter 149: A Savage Kiss

"I have never done those things," Dorrent admitted flatly, his silver eyes flashing with absolute honesty. "The girl gets wet so fast, the moment I touch her thighs she is already drenched, and the very next moment... I am entirely into her."

Guron rolled his eyes, throwing his hands up in sheer exasperation. "Does the S-tier tycoon seriously want teaching from his old father on how to prepare a woman before diving into her?! You are acting like an uneducated beast, Dorrent! You could try to find out where her sensitive spots are—touch her neck, her waist, her thighs, and see how her frequency reacts! I am perfectly willing to take you to a professional sex therapist tomorrow morning just so you can learn more about a woman’s sensitive spots!"

"I’m okay, Father," Dorrent interrupted quickly, a light chuckle escaping his chest as he stepped toward the grand front doors. "I’ll try doing those things on my own. I only hope that Jannah’s drenched entrance won’t end up pulling my cock like a literal magnet, making me forget every single piece of advice you’ve just muttered."

Guron reached out, tapping Dorrent heavily on the shoulder, his face hardening into a final, stern warning. "You should start changing your character from this very moment, Dorrent. Go inside, go upstairs to her quarters, and comfort her. Make her see that you care for her loss."

Dorrent nodded once, his face turning serious as he pushed the doors open, stepping into the grand, quiet warmth of the mansion’s interior. He marched up the sweeping staircase, his boots making muffled thuds against the plush runner until he reached the long, dimly lit corridor of the eastern wing. He stopped directly in front of Jannah’s bedroom door.

He stood there for a long beat, his hand hovering over the brass handle. For the first time in his arrogant, dominant life, he didn’t just twist the knob and barge inside. Remembering his father’s words, he raised his knuckles and knocked softly against the wood three times.

There was no reply.

A sudden, sharp spike of panic hit Dorrent’s brain. His mind flashed back to the hovel in the slums—the terrifying image of Jannah holding that rusted steel paring knife directly against her own throat, drawing blood as she shrieked about ending her life. A cold sweat broke out across his neck. Was she trying to kill herself right now inside this dark room?

Without waiting another second, Dorrent violently twisted the handle and pushed the door open, his silver eyes wide with alarm.

The room was dark, illuminated only by the faint silver moonlight filtering through the high curtains. Jannah wasn’t dead. She was lying flat on her stomach in the center of the grand mattress, her head buried deep beneath the heavy silk sheets. Low, ragged, heart-wrenching sobs vibrated through her frame, shaking the fabric. She hadn’t changed out of her clothes yet; she was still dressed in the tight denim jeans that perfectly outlined the perky, rounded curves of her buttocks, while her shirt had ridden up slightly during her thrashing, showcasing the flawless, slender pale expanse of her tiny waist.

Dorrent stood entirely frozen at the edge of the bed. For a long, agonizing beat, his breath caught in his throat. The visual layout of her body, the soft moonlight catching the smooth curve of her lower back, made a sudden, white-hot heat explode straight into his groin. His body went blistering hot, his S-tier blood rushing downward with a predatory force.

Get a grip, Dorrent growled to himself internally, aggressively slamming his own knuckles against his thigh to shock his system back into focus. Now is not the goddamn time to get horny. She is mourning.

He slowly walked over to the side of the bed, his movements uncharacteristically quiet. He sat down on the edge of the mattress, the bed groaning softly under his massive weight, and then slid his long frame under the top sheet, lying flat on his side right next to her trembling body.

"Jannah," Dorrent called out softly, his deep voice dropping into the gentlest frequency he could muster.

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