Whispers of Destiny: His Belated Love novel Chapter 137

Rosemary's eyes widened in panic as she twisted her head to dodge the man's rough and aggressive kisses, shrieking, "Maxwell, let go of me, you maniac, you freak, psycho."

Her nerves were stretched to the limit, and she hurled every curse she could think of at him non-stop.

She struggled fiercely, her head shaking like a bobblehead, and Maxwell's attempts to kiss her again were nimbly dodged.

Looking down at her from above, the man's smile grew colder as he saw her face nearly crumble from her extreme resistance. He pinned her hands above her head and yanked off the loosely hanging tie around his neck to bind them.

A flurry of kisses peppered her neck, leaving a trail of red marks everywhere they landed. Rosemary was wearing pants today, but under Maxwell's terrifyingly violent treatment, pants and skirts really made no difference; they were both just as easily torn.

"Maxwell, if you've got the hots and it's driving you crazy, go find Victoria." She blurted out in an emotional mess, "You've been all over the tabloids with her, pulling in investments; I've never meddled in that. Hogan just happened to come to my rescue tonight, and I'm a hell of a lot more innocent with him than you are with Victoria."

The sound of fabric tearing apart was especially distinct in the living room filled only with her screams!

He was able to tear through thick winter jeans by hand; Rosemary couldn't even begin to imagine the terrifying strength that entailed.

Maxwell cracked a smile, but there wasn't a hint of mirth in his eyes, "You should be thankful you and he are squeaky clean; otherwise, the one lying there tonight would've been that Abbott guy."

Rosemary kicked and flailed like a madwoman, but her legs were pinned down by Maxwell, causing hardly any real damage.

"If you're so capable, why didn't you score with Victoria? Why bother with me, your wife in name only, with no love lost? If you've got the fricking balls, go force yourself on Victoria; I'd happily give you a wedding gift and wish you two a happily ever after."

On a normal day, she would never dare to provoke him with such words in a powder-keg moment, but her current predicament was such that even if she played nice and submissive, Maxwell the lunatic wouldn't let her off the hook!

Because right now, he was exuding a strong, violent, and cruel male pheromone, as if he wanted to tear her apart and devour her.

Maxwell's hands landed on her, his violent actions restrained under a facade of calm, which was all the more chilling to witness.

He spoke slowly, as if forcing each word out of his throat, "But right now, I'd much rather force myself on you."

At this moment, there was hardly anything between the two. A vast despair surged up like the sea, trying to drag Rosemary into the abyss.

She wrapped her arms around Maxwell's neck with all her might, one leg hooked around his waist, and with the other, she pushed him off her with all her strength.

With a thud, the two of them tumbled off the sofa together.

Maxwell was underneath, his back hitting the floor hard. Rosemary leaned down, biting fiercely into the man's shoulder, aiming to take a chunk out of him, and blood was drawn immediately, the taste of blood spreading in her mouth. Overcome by the stench, she turned her head and retched a few times.

Throughout, the man seemed not to feel pain, not even a flinch until Rosemary turned away to retch, and then his face began to show concern as he reached out to pat her back.

But before he could touch her, Rosemary scrambled up like a wary cub, backing away a few steps, "Don't come any closer!"

She grabbed a decorative porcelain vase from the coffee table, ready to smash it on the man's head if he dared to move.

Her stance was determined. Maxwell watched her steadily, rising from the floor and walking towards her with slow but firm steps, "Want to kill me?"