Zoe Lancaster’s throat felt like it was on fire. Her mind was in a chaotic blur. Feeling that a young woman was supporting her, she let her guard down significantly.
Upon reaching the room, her legs finally gave out, and she collapsed onto the bed.
The waitress had already slipped out quietly.
Zoe felt overwhelmingly abnormal. It was as if some wicked, maddening desire was wreaking havoc inside her, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t suppress it. Stumbling to her feet, she rushed into the bathroom, turned on the showerhead, and drenched herself in freezing water.
But it was to no avail. She curled up in agony.
Suddenly, the door opened. Preston Quincy entered. When he spotted Zoe sitting on the bathroom floor, his expression changed drastically. He rushed in. "Zoe? What’s wrong?"
He reached out and turned off the shower.
Zoe was completely soaked. The deep cleavage of her chest glistened with water. She looked up at him, her face flushed and her eyes hazy, as if she possessed some aphrodisiac hook that could ignite a man’s lust.
Preston’s gaze darkened. His Adam’s apple bobbed several times. After all, he was at a hot-blooded age and almost couldn’t hold himself back. "Zoe... Are you drunk? Get up first. I’ll help you out."
Zoe had absolutely no strength left. Her body felt as soft as cotton, and the fire inside her burned fiercer by the second. Her remaining shreds of consciousness made her push him away in resistance, like a young beast protecting itself. "Don’t... Don’t touch me!"
She realized something was terribly wrong. There was a problem with her condition! Zoe’s mind was on the verge of losing all reason. She bit her tongue hard, the pain bringing tears to her eyes, but it did little to help.
Preston had no idea what was wrong with her. Afraid that she would catch a cold while soaking wet, he scooped her up into his arms and carried her quickly to the bed. "Your alcohol tolerance isn’t that good. Why did you suddenly drink so much today? Do you feel sick? Should I go buy you some hangover medicine?"
Zoe couldn’t even articulate the unbearable discomfort she was feeling at this moment. Tears streamed down her face as she whimpered and clutched at Preston’s collar. "I feel so terrible..."
Her rationality was being completely swallowed up. All she wanted was to get close to anything that could offer her a sense of coolness. With a sudden pull, she dragged Preston down onto the bed.
Preston immediately braced his arms on either side of Zoe’s body. Faced with her soft, fragrant form, the restraint in his eyes was close to collapsing. "Zoe... Are you sure you’re willing?"
Zoe could no longer process his words, completely unable to answer him.
Preston took a deep breath. He was no Sir Galahad; he couldn’t remain indifferent when faced with the woman he loved. Slowly, he lowered his head to kiss her.
BAM!
A muffled thud echoed through the room. The door seemed to have been forced open.
Preston instinctively turned his head, but a sudden, sharp pain struck the back of his neck. His vision went black, and he collapsed heavily onto the bed. Shane Shaw forcefully shoved the unconscious man aside.
Simon Hawthorne strode in quickly on his long legs and took in the suggestive scene on the bed. The woman’s fragrant shoulders were half-exposed, and her deep V-neckline had fallen wide open, barely able to contain her curves. Her black hair spilled like a waterfall across the sheets, and her snow-white skin was flushed pink as she writhed incessantly.
Simon’s eyes abruptly darkened. He walked over and lifted Zoe directly into his arms. From the corner of his eye, he glanced at Preston, whom Shane had skillfully knocked out, and a cold, mocking smirk tugged at the corners of his lips. "Since they love pushing for marriage so much, let’s give them a surprise."
Shane immediately understood.
Simon carried Zoe into the suite right next door. The door locked shut with a sharp click.
Zoe felt herself being tossed onto the bed. She felt as though she were dying, frantically seeking an antidote. That was until a slightly cool hand gripped her chin, and a condescending voice laced with temptation spoke. "Zoe Lancaster, do you want it?"
This incinerated her last shred of modesty. She raised her arms and wrapped them around Simon’s neck. Tears streamed down her face, making her look pitifully beautiful. "Please... help me. Take me..."
The woman’s voice was exceedingly delicate and sweet, utterly seductive. Not to mention the current scene, which would make anyone’s blood boil.
Simon’s pupils turned into bottomless pools of dark ink. His slender fingers slowly pushed up the hem of the woman’s dress, inch by inch. "You begged me for this."
Zoe felt as if she were about to be swallowed whole.
It felt as if her entire body was being torn apart, but thanks to the aphrodisiac, she was lubricated enough that the pain was quickly replaced by an intense, mind-numbing pleasure. Like a person dying of thirst who had finally found an oasis in the desert, she clung to him desperately. "Harder..."
Her soft pants seemed to act as an aphrodisiac of their own. She felt the piledriver above her ramp up its horsepower. Her whole body felt like it was being crushed and melted into an endless stream of spring water. Her calves, resting on his broad shoulders, swayed incessantly, and her small, pale feet arched as her toes curled uncontrollably.
Zoe couldn’t string her thoughts together. She only vaguely realized that they had changed positions. The thing bringing her such pleasure seemed to have found the perfect angle, driving so deep it felt like it was hitting her very soul. Completely overwhelmed, she could do nothing but sob incessantly, unable to tell if it was from agony or ecstasy.
In her dazed state, the man’s cold voice murmured in her ear, still sounding as noble as ever. "Zoe Lancaster, you’re going to drain me dry..."
Downstairs.
Riley Lancaster checked the time over and over again. Earlier, she had sent someone to inform Preston that Zoe was drunk upstairs. Just as expected, Preston had immediately rushed up to take care of her.
It had been nearly half an hour now; they should have reached the "main course" by now.
Riley quickly walked over to Martin Lancaster and Mrs. Quincy, wearing a worried expression. "Zoe just said she wasn’t feeling well. It seems there was something wrong with the hotel’s alcohol, so she went upstairs to rest. I’m a bit worried about her."
Hearing this, Mrs. Quincy grew displeased. "How is that possible? I personally selected the alcohol! There’s no way anything is wrong with it. What part of her is uncomfortable? She’s so delicate!"
Martin, however, was still worried about his daughter. "I’ll go check on her. If she’s really not feeling well, I’ll just have her head home first."
"I need to see this for myself too, so I don’t end up being the bad guy," Mrs. Quincy said, taking the lead.
Martin followed closely behind. Having achieved her goal, the corners of Riley’s lips curled up in a smirk.
Zoe had stubbornly refused to yield, insisting that her relationship with Preston was purely platonic. Now that the elders of both families were about to catch them in the heat of passion, how could she possibly deny it anymore? She would be forced into the marriage.
Little did Riley know, right after she followed them upstairs, Stella Joyce stepped out from a corner. Stella smiled at the two media reporters beside her and said, "The lighting here is poor, and it’s quite chaotic with all these people. Why don’t we go upstairs to take photos? But you have to promise me the front page."
The female star’s smile was so sweet that the two men were instantly captivated. They patted their cameras reassuringly. "These cost hundreds of thousands! They’ll capture Miss Joyce’s beauty in ultra-high definition!"
Stella curled her lips into a smile and led the men upstairs. As soon as they reached the upper floor, they just so happened to see the three people pushing the door open.
Stella seized the opportunity and said, "What’s going on over there? It sounds really noisy."
Unable to resist a good piece of gossip, the two reporters hurried over to take a look. Out of professional habit, they raised their cameras and immediately started snapping pictures.
Stella slowly smirked before elegantly strolling over. She wondered how fun it would be when Zoe’s high-definition sex tape was exposed. What would Simon do? Would Zoe lose her mind?
"My son!" Mrs. Quincy suddenly let out a sharp gasp.
Following that, Martin’s furious voice echoed out, "Preston Quincy, you bastard!"
Even Riley turned deadly pale and couldn’t help but mutter, "Impossible! This is impossible!"
Stella suddenly got a bad feeling about this. She quickened her pace, walked over, and peered inside.