Wildly Seductive Man

"Kiss me hard!" Grace Whitmore straddled a man, her legs exposed through the high slit of her skirt, lazily draped over his hips and swaying slightly. The alcohol had dulled her senses, causing her to abandon her usual restraint and boldly demand a kiss: "I want you to kiss me hard. Do you want to kiss my lips?" The man, dressed in a black shirt, lounged against the sofa with his tall frame relaxed. His left hand, adorned with black prayer beads, rested casually on the armrest, while his right hand gripped Grace Whitmore’s delicate waist. His gaze fixed on her moist lips, his deep, dark eyes filled with shadow. His scorching fingertips traced her soft waist, again and again. "Grace Whitmore, do you know who I am?" Grace Whitmore tilted her slightly flushed face up, her alcohol-clouded eyes looking dazedly at the man before her. He had a face that had moved beyond youth, filled with wealth and experience, handsomely aristocratic. He exuded the charm of a mature man. Grace Whitmore, with her mind muddled by intoxication, took a moment to think and then said, "I don’t care who you are. We’re not related by blood, so kissing is not illegal, right?" Asher Knight raised an eyebrow, his deep eyes twinkling with interest, and said in a leisurely tone, "It’s not illegal…" After a pause, his voice dropped to a low murmur, each word crashing into Grace Whitmore's ears: "I’m Ethan Cole’s uncle." Hearing the name Ethan Cole, even in her drunken state, a trace of sadness flashed across Grace Whitmore’s eyes. Just tonight, just an hour ago, the words Ethan Cole had said to her replayed in her mind, one by one. "Grace, you can’t give me what I want. I’m going to officially announce my relationship with Nina Clarke." "Nina Clarke’s father, Bob Clarke, is a renowned international director who can provide me with film resources." "This film needs to compete for Best Actor at the international film festival. It’s very important to me; I want to win Best Actor." "Grace, don’t you want to see me shining on the Best Actor stage?" "Grace, all you’re losing is a title, but what I’m giving you is the most valuable love." "Grace, you’re in love with me, so you’ll cooperate with me, and you’ll secretly be my girlfriend, right?" If Grace Whitmore agreed to continue being Ethan Cole’s girlfriend, then one day, if the media exposed their relationship, she would have no way to deny it and would be condemned as the other woman by everyone. By then, would Ethan Cole speak up for her? No, he would continue to choose his career as always. He would tell the whole country that Nina Clarke was his girlfriend. Previously, Grace Whitmore had always believed she was in a grand and genuine romance. She thought Ethan Cole would be the brightest star in her life. At that moment, the fog cleared, and Grace Whitmore finally understood that, in Ethan Cole’s heart, she had always been his second-choice Plan B, an insignificant option compared to his career. If necessary, she would always be a sacrifice to his career. Grace Whitmore’s heart, numbed by alcohol, felt as though it were gripped by an invisible hand, aching with each beat. The pain was so intense it felt suffocating. Suddenly, a large, handsome hand covered the back of her hand, the fingers distinctly knuckled, interlocking with hers. The warmth from his palm flowed into her body, continuously easing the pain in her heart. A low, melodious, and lazy voice floated down from above her head: "Miss Grace, sitting on my lap while thinking about another man doesn’t seem quite right, does it?" Grace Whitmore looked up and was met with a pair of beautiful eyes. Those bright eyes seemed to be studded with black diamonds, shimmering with a gentle light as they gazed at her. He spoke, his voice lazy: "Miss Grace, do you think of me as second-tier?" Grace Whitmore’s rosy lips curled up slightly: "Nonsense, how can there be only one person in a tier?" Asher Knight observed her shifting emotions and, seeing her face no longer sad, said slowly: "Just a joke, I’m trying to make Miss Grace happy." After a moment of silence, Grace Whitmore explained, "I’m single now, no boyfriend. I broke up with Ethan Cole." Asher Knight’s dark eyes suddenly brightened: "You broke up? That’s great." Grace Whitmore leaned softly on his shoulder, her flushed face pressed against his neck, with each breath filled with the refreshing and pleasant scent of sandalwood from him. "I’ll tell you a secret, I was the one who ended it with him." Asher Knight’s warm, dry hand patted her back, as if comforting a child: "You did great!" Under the influence of alcohol, Grace Whitmore’s cheeks were burning. She rubbed her face against his neck. "And here’s another secret: I still have my first kiss." Asher Knight’s pupils gleamed even more: "You did wonderfully!" Grace Whitmore lifted her head from his neck, her delicate arms wrapping around his neck. She pulled him closer, their faces nearly touching. "Why don’t you kiss me? Is it because I’m not attractive?" Asher Knight gazed deeply at her: "You’re very beautiful." Grace Whitmore smiled, her lips curling into a radiant grin. She puckered her lips and moved them toward his mouth: "So, do you want to kiss me?" Asher Knight’s lips curled up in a faint smile. He extended his right hand, applying a bit of pressure to hold her delicate chin, pinching her flushed cheeks, his long, slender fingers leaving indentations on her face. "Of course I want to," he said, "you’ve practically invited me to kiss you. How could I not fulfill that?" He cupped the back of her head with his palm, lowered his head, and pressed his lips against hers, claiming her first kiss with a powerful and desire-filled kiss. He lingered on her rosy lips, kissing her with intense passion and seriousness. The scent of wine entwined between their lips. The fresh and pleasant aroma of sandalwood from his body surged into her nostrils, blending with her breath, and permeating every inch of her being. After a while of embracing and kissing, Asher Knight lifted Grace Whitmore up and stood. The magnificent, radiant crystal chandelier cast a brilliant glow, bathing him in a golden light. He was tall, his well-tailored black three-piece suit fitting his strong, muscular body perfectly. With broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and long legs, he exuded a distinguished elegance that was both austere and sensual. Every movement he made revealed a kind of wild arrogance typical of a suit-clad daredevil. He looked like he had strong procreative potential. Asher Knight held Grace Whitmore and, unable to wait, hurriedly made his way to the large double bed. While undressing, his lips were never idle, kissing her with an insatiable hunger. Undressing and kissing at the same time. Grace Whitmore was kissed to the point of near suffocation. Finally, unable to endure any longer, she reached out with her soft hands and braced herself against his strong, broad chest, breathing heavily. "Uncle, don’t, it’s too much, be gentler." "Uncle, you’re going to kiss my lips to pieces." In her dazed state, Grace Whitmore felt Asher Knight take hold of her wrists with one hand. He single-handedly untied his tie, wrapping the black fabric around her wrists with a certain leisurely grace, tying it into a neat bow. He placed her hands above her head, his tall and muscular body pressing down on her soft, delicate form. The black suit jacket lay over her white sequin dress. The two of them rolled and intertwined, kissing passionately with no barrier between them. Suddenly, Grace Whitmore’s delicate hand touched Asher Knight’s strong, solid chest muscles. Her palm was pressed against an unusual sensation. It was a scar left by a gunshot wound. At seventeen, in New York, Asher Knight took a bullet for a girl. The wound was close to his heart, where the bullet was more vicious than a thousand silver needles, tearing through his flesh and bringing excruciating pain. He had essentially sacrificed his own life to save hers. Grace Whitmore looked down and saw a long, grotesque scar on his cold, solid chest, on the left side, near his heart. Grace Whitmore wanted to ask about the horrifying scar, what had happened at that time. But before she could speak, her already swollen lips were once again enveloped by his fiery kiss. Her senses were overwhelmed by his torrential, relentless kisses. His kiss was scorching!