The hidden billionaire heiress (Lyra Melvin) novel Chapter 539

He was sleeping until he woke up by the slap, which was simply too exciting.

Malcolm opened his eyes quickly.

In the darkness, another slap came against with the strong wind.

He sensed it keenly and struck quickly. He grabbed Lyra's wrist and got up to turn on the bedside table lamp.

Turning back again, he met Lyra's red and manic eyes.

Another attack, what happened?

He was puzzled when Lyra kicked at him. He dodged sideways, and with both of them having martial arts backgrounds, they fought directly on the bed.

Only, Malcolm was all about defense and Lyra was all about offense.

In terms of martial arts, despite Lyra's manic state, Malcolm was always better than her, and there was an even greater disparity in strength between men and women.

They lasted for about ten minutes of fighting. Lyra suddenly got out of bed sharply and furiously grabbed the bedside lamp to smash it.

"Rara don't!"

Malcolm was confused. How could this be a shift in strategy?

He rushed over to grab it and was too slow.

Snapping-

The lamp knocked into the corner of the table, with a loud bang. And it was smashed to pieces.

The flying glass shards cut Lyra's calf, but she felt no pain at all. Those scarlet eyes covered with murderous intent.

There seemed to be only one idea. That was to see blood.

She took a shattered and sharp bedside table lamp and pointed it straight at Malcolm's heart.

Malcolm spun around to avoid it and nimbly knocked the murder weapon out of her hand from the side.

"Honey, don't take such a life-threatening weapon. Let's just have a couple of moves."

He sounded helpless, but Lyra, in her manic state, had no idea what he was talking about.

The eyes were fierce and stern. She broke free from him with force and turned her head to slam bottles and jars on the dressing table again.

Malcolm noticed that she was looking that way and quickly stepped in front of her.

"Don't smash things. It will hurt you. You better hit me. I will not hide. Let you vent out your anger, OK?"

Lyra's eyes were sinister, and once again, she swung her hand up towards his face.

Seeing another slap to smash down, Malcolm raised his arm to block and said sadly and helplessly, "Or don't hit the face. It will not look good."

Lyra, with no sense of dominance at all, swung her left hand up and over at his face again.

He stopped again, and his brain was racing for a solution.

He can't hit Rara in the back of the head. And he can't let Rara smash things and can't let Rara punch him in the face.

He forgot to ask Jimmy for two shots of tranquilizer last night, when he waited for a backup in an emergency.

What should he do ...

His mind was frantically thinking about what Jimmy had said last night.

Within seconds, he made a quick decision.

A belt was quickly carried from the coat rack and shoved into Lyra's hand, "Here, hit me and vent."

The corners of Lyra's mouth curved in a sickly manner, and she flung the belt harshly, striking it against him.

Malcolm stood without hiding, protected his head and face with one hand, and between his legs with the other, to prevent being hit by mistake and losing his eternal happiness.

The belt whistled like a raging wind, constantly flung to his back, waist, arms, chest, buttocks, legs ...

Every part of the body was covered with pain, except for the sheltered areas.

Malcolm gritted his teeth and bore it in silence, acting as a human sandbag.

Whoosh-pop-

Whoosh-pop-

The sound of breaking wind kept ringing, cutting through the silence of the dark night, which sounded horrible for a far.