Chapter 32: Chapter 32: Ivy Sherwood, You Have to Put Out the Fire You Started
Quentin Blackwood went to dry his hair. It was already getting late.
He walked to the bedroom, and Ivy Sherwood quickly followed.
Quentin Blackwood pulled back the covers and lay down.
’Is Uncle not in the mood for something intense tonight?’
"Should I get in?" Ivy Sherwood had a feeling that wasn’t what Quentin Blackwood had in mind tonight.
She’d never had any illusions about men. Growing up around a cheater like Timothy Sherwood, Ivy didn’t think much of them.
Besides, why would she think a man like Quentin Blackwood would ever truly be interested in her? It was just sexual compatibility, a mutually beneficial arrangement.
’Would Quentin Blackwood really bring her to a hotel just to sleep?’
Quentin Blackwood lifted his gaze. "Now you’re playing coy?"
"Of course not. In your eyes, Uncle, I’m probably just a wanton woman anyway." They had only met a few times, but they’d already slept together twice.
Ivy Sherwood also pulled back the covers and lay down, but Quentin Blackwood reached out and turned off the light.
"Go to sleep."
Ivy was baffled.
The room was pitch-black and terrifyingly quiet. Ivy Sherwood blinked. ’Is *this* what he meant by sleep?’
’But how could she possibly sleep?’
"Quentin? Are you asleep?" Ivy asked tentatively.
The man didn’t make a sound, as if he had really fallen asleep.
Ivy didn’t believe it. She scooted closer, whispering by Quentin’s ear, "So you brought me here today just to lie under the covers and chat?"
Ivy’s voice wasn’t loud. When she whispered, she lowered her register, unaware that it had a soft, breathy quality.
When Quentin brought Ivy over today, he truly hadn’t planned on doing anything with her.
He hadn’t seen Ivy for the past few days, and his sleep had been a total wreck. So this time, he just wanted to test if his recent insomnia had anything to do with her.
But he wasn’t the least bit sleepy. ’Sure enough, pinning my hopes for a good night’s sleep on a woman... I must be insane.’
But Ivy kept chattering beside him. The scent of milk and her own unique fragrance desperately invaded Quentin’s senses with every breath he took.
The atmosphere was turning dangerous, but Ivy was completely oblivious.
"Uncle," she asked, "are you... having performance issues?"
’Quentin must be almost thirty, right? He’s always so busy, he probably doesn’t have time to take care of himself.’
’I’ve heard men have a lot of problems in that department, and many of them refuse to admit they have an issue.’
"Ivy Sherwood!" The man flipped over, and in the next second, Ivy was pinned beneath him.
He had originally planned to let her be, but she was just too restless!
’Were my words just now too blunt? Did I hurt Uncle’s feelings?’
"Uncle, that’s not what I meant. It’s normal to have... delicate problems at your age..."
"My age? Delicate problems?"
Ivy felt like she had said something wrong. Quentin’s words seemed to be squeezed through gritted teeth.
"I thought after the last two times, you would know perfectly well whether I have any ’delicate problems’ at my age."
Ivy was pinned, unable to move. She was like prey cornered in a beast’s territory, with no escape from his grasp.
They were both under the covers, separated only by their pajamas, but Ivy could already feel Quentin’s magnificent size.
’He really is exceptionally endowed!’
"It was just a random comment, Uncle, don’t be so petty. Since you wanted to sleep, let’s just sleep." Ivy pushed against the man’s chest.
Her palm met scorching heat; he was like a furnace.
His chest was as hard as iron, completely unmovable.
"Too late!" The next second, the man swept her up, giving Ivy no chance to struggle. Like a vampire emerging at midnight, he bit down on her neck.
When it came to this, Quentin Blackwood was never gentle. Besides, Ivy had been the one to provoke him first.
He’d never really had any interest in women before. He’d rarely even taken matters into his own hands.
But with Ivy, it was like a blooming poppy—captivating and addictive.
He was at the point of no return, but then...
"You..." Quentin came to a screeching halt.
"I... I didn’t expect it either..." Ivy’s face was so red it looked like it could bleed.
Her period was always on time. Why did it have to come early today!
She hadn’t felt anything when she showered just now.
"Uncle... do you still have... that thing from last time?" Ivy asked, growing embarrassed.
"Threw them out." Quentin’s expression soured.
Last time had been a false alarm; it turned out he had been mistaken. He’d had room service clear away the unused items.
Who would have thought it would happen for real this time, of all times.
"Then what should we do?" She definitely couldn’t go without a sanitary pad.
Ivy thought for a moment. "Should I go out and buy some?"
It had just started anyway, so it wasn’t very heavy.
"I’ll have someone go buy them." With that, Quentin prepared to make a call.
"Don’t!" Ivy stopped him. "It’s the middle of the night, everyone’s asleep. Waking someone up to buy this will definitely make them overthink things. They’ll end up thinking I’m some kind of Delilah who’s bewitched you, my king."
"You? Delilah?" Quentin looked as if he’d just heard a joke.
Ivy Sherwood was speechless.
"It’ll be quick. I remember seeing a convenience store next to the hotel when we arrived." With that, Ivy started to get up.
But a hand pressed down on her shoulder. "Lie down. Don’t move!"
Ivy froze for a second, then saw the man had already gotten out of bed. It looked like he was going to go out and buy them for her.
Ivy couldn’t believe it. Quentin Blackwood, personally buying something like sanitary pads for someone.
"What brand do you usually use?" the man’s voice was cold and hard.
Ivy told him her usual brand. "Thank you, Uncle!"
Soon, she heard the sound of the door closing outside. Ivy buried herself in the blankets, her face beet red.
’If anyone ever dares to say Uncle is a cruel, heartless beast, I’ll be the first to disagree!’
’If any other woman found out that Quentin Blackwood bought this kind of thing for her, she’d probably be assassinated in no time.’
Ivy got up to check. She hadn’t gotten anything on the sheets or the covers; it had only just started.
Still, she had the hotel staff send up a new set of sheets and a duvet cover, which she changed herself.
It was only while changing the sheets that Ivy realized, ’Wait a minute, the hotel has staff! Why did Uncle have to go himself?!’
When Quentin returned, he was holding not only two packs of sanitary pads, but also a new pair of panties.
She never expected Quentin to be so thoughtful. Ivy couldn’t even begin to imagine the scene of this powerful man buying these things in a convenience store.
Ivy scurried into the bathroom, her face flushed. "Thank you, Uncle!"
She quickly changed and opened the door, only to find Quentin waiting right outside.
"Uncle?"
"Ivy Sherwood, you started this fire." The flames deep in the man’s eyes had not been extinguished.
"Hm?"
Quentin pulled her directly into the bathroom. His hand cupped Ivy’s chin, his thumb stroking her lips, the meaning clear.
"So you have to be the one to put it out!"
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