Wrong Flirt, Right Trouble: His Uncle Pulls Me Close

Chapter 195: Chapter 195: He Lost Control, Addicted to the Taste

"I told you. If you want to buy these earrings back, fine. But I don’t want your money, I want you."

"Now, take off your clothes for me."

Quentin Blackwood said this practically against Ivy Sherwood’s ear. His tone was so forceful, yet it still made Ivy’s legs go weak.

’Undress him? But I’ve never undressed him before.’

"I... I don’t know how." Her fingers curled together in nervousness.

"Do I have to teach you how to take off clothes?"

"That’s not what I meant, I..." Before she could finish, Quentin Blackwood’s hand was already on her.

Quentin Blackwood’s fingers were nimble. He quickly stripped off Ivy Sherwood’s clothes and even whispered deadpan into her ear, "Learned how yet?"

"You!"

The back of Ivy Sherwood’s ears were so red they looked like they might start bleeding, rivaling the crimson of a ruby.

She had a beautiful figure—slender yet curvaceous. She preferred to wear looser clothing to hide her body, but now that Quentin Blackwood had stripped her with one hand, she was left in just her bra.

The mirror perfectly reflected Ivy Sherwood’s figure—full-breasted, with a shapely behind, an exquisite and delicate frame.

"Still don’t know how?" Quentin Blackwood’s hand moved up, looking as if he was about to undo the clasp on her back with one hand.

Ivy Sherwood knew Quentin Blackwood had this skill; it wasn’t the first time he’d shown it off.

"I know how, I know how!" she conceded.

Quentin Blackwood was wearing a dress shirt, with only the top two buttons undone.

Ivy Sherwood placed her hands on Quentin Blackwood’s chest, her fingers trembling as she worked on the buttons. A blush spread across her cheeks like a sky full of fiery sunset clouds.

Ivy Sherwood moved slowly. She was so nervous that even this simple task felt difficult. ’Buttons have never been this hard to undo before,’ she thought.

By the time she reached the middle buttons, she could already see the muscles of Quentin Blackwood’s chest, and further down, his well-defined abs.

The abs, hidden beneath the shirt, were revealed to Ivy Sherwood as she undid the buttons.

The close-up view of his heart-pounding physique made Ivy Sherwood jolt as if from an electric shock, even though it wasn’t the first time.

With that jolt, she accidentally brushed against his muscles.

Her fingertips had only registered a hint of warmth, she hadn’t even had time to feel anything else, when Quentin Blackwood moved. His large hands seized hers, and with a burst of strength from his arms, he ripped his shirt open. The remaining buttons popped off and scattered across the floor.

He had lost his patience.

Ivy Sherwood felt herself fall into a firm, warm embrace. She struggled in a panic, only to be held even tighter by the man.

The man wouldn’t let her escape. The next second, her earlobe was caught between his teeth.

"You can’t even undress someone properly. You’ll have to practice more in the future," came the man’s disdainful voice.

Ivy Sherwood’s mind felt like it had been struck by lightning. ’In the future... practice with whom?’

Ivy Sherwood said deliberately, "Alright, then I’ll go find a few other people to practice with."

Perhaps her words had angered him, because Ivy Sherwood felt a sharp pain in her earlobe, as if he’d bitten down on purpose.

"Hiss... that hurts..." Ivy Sherwood’s voice was low, more like a whimper from deep in her throat.

That sound seemed to flip a switch in Quentin Blackwood. It was as if a pure fairy had fallen to the mortal realm, only to be forcibly controlled in the palm of a demon’s hand. He held her tighter, as if trying to knead her into his own body until they fused.

Quentin Blackwood’s lips roamed over Ivy Sherwood’s neck. A fire seemed to be burning inside her. Ivy Sherwood’s lips were slightly parted as she breathed, her full red mouth exuding a captivating allure.

Innocence and seduction, it turned out, could coexist in one person.

Quentin Blackwood could no longer tear his gaze away from Ivy Sherwood. Finally, he crushed his mouth to hers, fierce as a passing hurricane, stealing her last breath. He didn’t allow her to struggle; she had to sink and surrender in his hands.

The sensual, ambiguous atmosphere in the bathroom thickened. Ivy Sherwood didn’t know when Quentin Blackwood had stripped her naked and lifted her onto the counter.

The ice-cold marble and the burning chest in front of her were a stark contrast—a world of ice and fire.

The sensation made Ivy Sherwood tremble. Between the cold and the warmth, she would of course choose the warmth, so she could only press herself deeper into Quentin Blackwood’s embrace.

She didn’t see the hint of a smirk in Quentin Blackwood’s eyes. He was clearly doing it on purpose.

Later, Quentin Blackwood carried her over to the showerhead. The cascading water drenched them both.

Ivy Sherwood was pressed against the tiled wall, Quentin Blackwood behind her. His hand clasped hers from behind. The wall tiles were covered in mist, showing only the marks of her small, pale hand struggling. His large hand flipped hers over, then forced his fingers between hers, interlocking them.

The Buddha Beads on his wrist reflected the faint silhouettes of their bodies, highlighting the size difference between them.

"Ivy Sherwood," he panted, calling her name.

"Mmm~" Ivy Sherwood felt like she was drowning in the ocean, barely able to force out a sound.

"You’re not allowed to practice with anyone else."

"Practice... what?" Ivy Sherwood couldn’t even form a complete sentence.

Her mind was a blank. Seemingly dissatisfied with her response, Quentin Blackwood’s hand gave her a pointed reminder.

Only then did Ivy Sherwood remember. "I... I know..."

Her neck arched back, her snow-white skin turning pink. The long earrings swayed with the rhythm of their movements.

In the bathtub, in the room outside, on the sofa, on the windowsill—traces of them were left everywhere.

Ivy Sherwood had no strength left at all. She was being held by Quentin Blackwood, her legs wrapped around his waist, while he seemed to have an endless supply of energy to expend.

Late that night, after washing Ivy Sherwood, Quentin Blackwood carried her back to bed.

Only a small lamp was on by the bed, leaving the room dimly lit.

Ivy Sherwood was already asleep. Her eyes were closed, and her seaweed-like hair was spread across the bed, covering half of her face.

Quentin Blackwood watched Ivy Sherwood, who was curled up in his arms. He reached out, hooked a finger through her hair, and tucked the long strands behind her ear.

Ivy Sherwood’s earlobe was still red, as if he had bitten it until it nearly bled. Her neck was covered in faint marks, which he found exceedingly beautiful.

And that was with Quentin Blackwood holding back. If he were to lift the blanket now, he would see that there was barely a patch of unblemished skin on Ivy Sherwood’s body.

This hadn’t been a transaction for Ivy Sherwood to buy back her earrings; it was more like a punishment for having returned them in the first place.

This loss of control had more than made up for the fact that nothing had happened at the hotel two days ago.

’So this is what it feels like to get a taste of something and want more.’

She was like a Fox Spirit from the Green Hill Clan, capable of sucking away a man’s life essence, yet Quentin Blackwood was more than willing to let Ivy Sherwood devour his.

He seemed to be growing more and more tolerant of her.

’Things seem to be heading in an uncontrollable direction.’ Quentin Blackwood had repeatedly tried to pull things back on track before, but it seemed that every time he encountered Ivy Sherwood, he would forget all about it.

Before, he would have felt that Ivy Sherwood’s marriage to Silas Blackwood had nothing to do with him. He even would have wanted to see both families thrown into turmoil.

But now... he didn’t seem to want Ivy Sherwood to marry Silas Blackwood so much anymore.