The Billionaire's Ultimate Challenge

Chapter 6:

She took a few sips, the creamy flavor filling her mouth with some lingering at the corner of her lips. Just as she was about to wipe it away, he beat her to it.

He wiped the corner of her mouth with his hand, then brought it to his nose, inhaled, and finally licked his fingers, saying, “It tastes good.”

“Ricard, I’m tired,” she said, setting the glass down and standing up slowly, only to be pinned against the piano by him.

One hand pressed on the black and white keys, producing discordant sounds that were eerie in the night. His other hand naturally touched her face, pushing her hair back, and he said slyly, “I’ve waited fifteen years for this.”

She had often heard Mrs. Taylor talk about intimate matters between men and women. Hearing his cryptic words, she sensed trouble, knowing she couldn’t escape this night.

Feeling his hand move from her face to her chest, the warmth through her thin clothes felt cold, like winter.

He slowly leaned in, the corners of his mouth curling up as he said, “Abigail, I want you.” With that, his lips completely covered hers, sealing off any breath between them.

What started as a gentle kiss turned passionate. She sucked dry the creamy taste in her mouth, leaving her unable to resist his advance.

Just when she thought he would take her into the music room, she was suddenly lifted.

His bedroom was opposite the music room. He carried her to the bed, which was soft and comfortable, unlike the hard piano, but this comfort brought no joy.

Despite living on the island for over a decade, enjoying a princess-like luxurious life, her heart was filled with unspoken misery. Abandoned by her family, with a handsome but terrifying man by her side, she found no freedom, only sorrow.

Years of enduring this life planted the seed of escape in her heart, but the island was small and heavily guarded, making escape impossible.

She didn’t know when her clothes were torn to shreds, her smooth, jade-like skin exposed to the air. She knew this day would come eventually, but didn’t expect it so soon. She was only fifteen.

She lay quietly on the bed, as he admired her like a precious piece of art.

Ricard was not an ordinary person; his way of loving was unconventional.

His foreplay was strange and unique. He first closed his eyes, moving his hands in sync, mumbling as if praying for divine blessings.

She watched his lips move, his devout posture, but couldn’t understand his words.

Not thinking much, she wanted to leave, but knew that she couldn’t escape forever. This day was inevitable; she might as well cooperate now.

If compliance could bring peace and save many lives, it would be worth it.

The handsome devil before her was her fate, clinging to her life and death. Homeless, without family, she had become a soulless doll.

In the dark, his eyes suddenly opened, glancing over at her. Seeing her wide-eyed, he was displeased, covering her eyes with his hand, saying, “Close your eyes and enjoy.”

Her eyes shut tight, she saw only darkness. She couldn’t see him, only feel his warm hands caressing her body.

She thought he would touch her chest, as it was quite full, but felt a tickling sensation at her feet.

Her legs were lifted, his kisses moving to her feet, first gently licking, then his tongue tracing each toe.

She felt him nibbling each toe, from light to strong, until it was painful. It was said that a woman’s toes are connected to her heart, and his bites sent tingles throughout her body, every nerve firing with heat.

In the dark, his terrifying voice said, “The first time I saw you, your foot fell on my face, and I’ve remembered you ever since.”

What did that mean?

She was confused, but couldn’t ask.

She waited for him to continue, but he abruptly sat up.

He had thoroughly licked one leg clean, and he didn’t spare the other, repeating the same actions, as if it were truly a delicacy.

Her hopes dashed, leaving her cold inside.

“These feet are truly beautiful!” he admired one moment, but the next he threatened, “But if you ever dare to leave me, I will make sure you lose these feet.”

Her heart plummeted into an abyss. She dared not resist, dared not retort, gripping the bed sheets tightly as tears streamed down her cheeks.

Her feet were smooth and white, her toenails painted a faint pink, the combination of white and pink extremely beautiful. The most terrifying things are often beautiful.

She constantly thought about his words—if she truly ever left him, would he make her lose these perfect feet?

While she was still entangled in that thought, he moved his warm hand up to her thigh.

Her legs were long and white, fuller than her feet, but he wasn’t like most men. He had little interest in this area, only caressing it up and down before pressing his whole body against hers.

His skillful tongue traced the outline of her lips while his hands continued to knead her round breasts, increasing in intensity. Then his tongue slipped into her mouth, filling it completely and forcing her to open her eyes, seeing his messy hair swaying in front of her.

“Ricard, I don’t want this. I’m only fifteen!” Feeling his excitement, she lifted her head and struggled. She mocked herself—what was this nonsense about compliance bringing peace, saving countless lives, being worth it? But at the crucial moment, fear overwhelmed her.

Hearing her resistance, his pupils flashed, and he pulled away from her lips, gazing at her.

Tears still glistened at the corners of her eyes, reflecting fear. Despite being with him for many years, she still couldn’t accept him. He was not unintelligent. He was just pretending, waiting for her to grow up, knowing that one day she would be entirely his.

He turned her head and said angrily, “Have you forgotten your status?”

She wanted to shake her head but was gripped by his fingers, unable to move, only able to say painful, “I am your fiancée.”