Wrong Flirt, Right Trouble: His Uncle Pulls Me Close

Chapter 101: Chapter 101: Quentin Blackwood is Perverted

"Your fiancée? How would I know?"

It seemed Quentin Blackwood having a fiancée wasn’t a secret. She had searched online before and, sure enough, found such claims.

They said Quentin Blackwood’s fiancée was suspected to be Miss Sheridan.

Ivy Sherwood wasn’t familiar with the Veridian Circle, so she didn’t know what kind of person this Miss Sheridan was. But there were many rumors about her online—all about how exceptional she was, winning awards left and right.

Quentin Blackwood’s gaze darkened. "Did Silas Blackwood tell you?"

"Uncle, since you already have a fiancée, you shouldn’t be getting entangled with other people. I have no right to tell you what to do, but I, Ivy Sherwood, could never do something like that."

Seeing her self-righteous act, Quentin Blackwood’s lips suddenly curled into a smirk.

"Niece-in-law, so you’re allowed to mess around with other men behind your fiancé’s back, but I’m not allowed to have a fiancée?"

Quentin Blackwood wasn’t in a hurry to explain the matter of his fiancée. He and Miss Sheridan had never had that kind of relationship.

"Silas Blackwood isn’t my fiancé! We’re not getting married. And I... I..." Ivy Sherwood couldn’t explain any further.

The situation between her and Quentin Blackwood was truly inexplicable.

"However..." With a sudden pull of his wrist, Quentin Blackwood yanked Ivy Sherwood into his arms.

His other hand wrapped around her waist, and his thin lips pressed against her ear. "But I happen to enjoy messing around behind my fiancée’s back. You have a fiancé, I have a fiancée, and you’re my nephew’s girlfriend. Isn’t it exciting?"

It was indeed exciting. Ivy felt a depraved, almost incestuous thrill. A strange feeling bloomed in her heart, so thrilling it made her tremble to her core.

"You can’t!"

Quentin Blackwood’s gaze fell on Ivy’s ears, which were red enough to bleed. He was speaking so close that his breath washed over them. The sensitive ear flinched, and its lobe turned a vibrant, succulent red.

Suddenly, he felt the urge to take a bite.

But Quentin Blackwood wasn’t in a rush. He was a man with plenty of patience.

"Besides, you said you wanted to thank me for my help. You haven’t just met me today; you should know that my help comes at a price."

"So, how does my niece-in-law plan to thank me?"

Quentin Blackwood’s voice was very low. When they had spoken on the phone before, it was through the device, yet it felt as if he were whispering right in her ear.

But now, there was no barrier at all. His lips were pressed right against her ear.

The sound vibrated straight into her inner ear.

Quentin Blackwood was naked, pressed so close, his hand still on her waist. The waves of sensation made Ivy Sherwood’s legs so weak she could barely stand.

If not for his hand supporting her, she might have already collapsed to the floor in a heap.

Goosebumps erupted over her skin, followed by a tingling numbness.

Her ears and her waist were her most sensitive spots.

Quentin Blackwood deliberately drew out the word "thank," his tone deeply suggestive. How could Ivy not understand?

Ivy forced herself to remain calm. "An upstanding man like you, Uncle, surely doesn’t enjoy forcing people against their will, right? You see how ugly I am; you probably don’t like having me around anyway. How about this: from now on, I’ll stay far away from you, keep your sight clean. Would that count as my thanks?"

"You know you’re ugly, and you’re still having such pretty delusions?"

Ivy Sherwood was speechless.

’Did he have to be so venomous?’

Quentin Blackwood leaned in closer, able to smell every scent on Ivy Sherwood.

She was like a blooming rose—the more nervous she became, the more intense her fragrance grew.

He had never said such things to any other woman. Only Ivy Sherwood, who was like an intoxicating poppy.

He knew she was poisonous and he shouldn’t get close, but the more interesting things he discovered about her, the more he craved her, finding it impossible to quit.

And the self-control he had always been proud of seemed so difficult to maintain in front of her.

He hadn’t originally planned on doing anything with Ivy Sherwood, but after all this, he had changed his mind.

"Ivy Sherwood, your body seems much more honest than you are. How about this: prove to me that you feel nothing, and I’ll let you go."

"How do I prove that?"

"If your panties are completely dry, that’ll prove you feel nothing."

Ivy Sherwood never imagined that Quentin Blackwood would think of such a perverted method of proof.

"No!"

Her legs clenched together, her panties pressing tightly against the tender flesh of her body.

She knew she would lose.

Perhaps from the very moment Quentin Blackwood had walked out of the bathroom, revealing his physique, she had already started to feel something.

Add to that all the provocative things he had said... and this wasn’t her first time with him. Some feelings were inevitable.

"No? Then what are you afraid of? Or are you just afraid to admit that you’ve wanted this for a while now?" Quentin Blackwood released his hold on her waist, and her legs gave out, causing her to slide downward.

Quentin Blackwood didn’t want to hold back any longer. He yanked away the only thing covering him—the bath towel.

Then he crushed his lips against hers.

"Mmph..." Ivy Sherwood shook her head frantically, but she was afraid of hurting him.

Because she was being forced, her eyes filled with a watery mist.

They glistened, as if he had bullied her too harshly. The corners of her eyes were tinged with red, a truly pitiable sight.

Quentin Blackwood reached out and covered her eyes. They were too beautiful; they could easily make a man go soft.

He had been seeing so much of Ivy Sherwood lately that he’d forgotten she wasn’t a good person to begin with.

’Wasn’t her original goal to threaten him into breaking off the engagement? She was the one who provoked him first. It’s too late for regrets now.’

And he had never been a good person either.

He just wanted to destroy everything beautiful, destroy everything about the Blackwood Family and the Sherwood Family!

But Quentin Blackwood didn’t dare to dwell on his feelings for Ivy Sherwood. As long as he didn’t think about it, this was all just punishment for the Sherwoods and the Blackwoods.

Each was just taking what they needed. It was only human nature.

Quentin Blackwood’s thoughts were heading in the cruelest direction, but when he felt a dampness in his palm, he moved his hand away from Ivy’s eyes.

Ivy Sherwood’s eyes were completely red, as if they had been washed with water. She looked exactly as he had imagined—bullied.

But in his heart, he didn’t seem to feel the same pleasure as before.

This time felt different from the others. He had gone soft.

She didn’t want this, and he didn’t want to force her.

He released Ivy Sherwood, walked to the side, and picked up a clean shirt, pulling it on. The firm muscles were covered by the fabric.

Ivy Sherwood was kneeling on the floor. Her hastily pinned-up hair had come undone during the struggle and now cascaded down like seaweed.

The ruthless man from moments ago had returned to his noble, aloof demeanor, as if nothing had happened at all.

Quentin Blackwood’s hands went to the buttons of his shirt. His well-defined fingers fastened them one by one.

If there was one thing different, it was that the string of dark Buddha Beads was missing from his wrist.

Before he had finished buttoning his shirt, Quentin Blackwood’s cool voice sounded out. "I don’t have a fiancée."

Ivy Sherwood froze, her eyes wide with a surprise completely different from before.

’Uncle doesn’t have a fiancée?’