Maxwell Peary raised an eyebrow. Why had little Rabina Mitchell stopped? Could it be that she was worried he’d be tired?
Oh, delight suddenly blood in Maxwell Peary’s heart, and he felt positively giddy.
Nia Mitchell turned to look at Maxwell Peary, her expression serious. After thinking for a mont, she nodded solemnly.
"Uncle, you should really get so rest."
Maxwell Peary broke into a wide grin upon hearing her words. This was his wife, indeed.
"What if you collapse from exhaustion, Uncle? Not only would that cost more money, but it would also hinder you from earning more."
Maxwell Peary: ...!!!
He nearly choked, a taphorical mouthful of blood caught in his throat. Maxwell Peary froze on the spot. That Rabina Mitchell!
"It seems going three days without a lesson has made you bold enough to tear the house down! Nia Mitchell, you’ve really got so nerve."
Maxwell Peary reached out and lifted Nia Mitchell’s chin. Their eyes t, and she blinked her sparkling eyes.
"Wh-what are you doing?" she asked timidly, unconsciously wanting to retreat. But with her chin held steady by him, she couldn’t move at all.
Maxwell Peary’s lips curled into a smile. What a silly question she was asking.
"Bed."
Then, the CEO suddenly bent down and swept Nia Mitchell into his arms.
"Ah! What are you doing?"
Wasn’t I just making a tiny joke? Why did he suddenly sweep up in a bridal carry?
"What do you think?"
With those words, he carried her back into the house, up the stairs, and into the Bedroom!
"Ah! Put down!"
Why was Maxwell Peary heading for that big gray bed? No, no, no, I don’t want this!
"As you wish, Madam."
Maxwell Peary released his hold, and Nia Mitchell tumbled onto the large, soft bed. Imdiately after, he pressed down on top of her.
"Please get up, okay? You’re crushing ; I can barely breathe!"
Nia Mitchell looked utterly wronged and pitiful, desperately hoping Maxwell Peary would show so rcy and let her go this ti.
But would Maxwell Peary do that?
His lips curled into a smirk as he lowered his head, inhaling her scent near her forehead.
"Do you want to be on top?"
His low, husky voice held a distinct allure. Even if Nia Mitchell were completely naive, she would have understood his aning—especially since she could feel sothing hard pressing against her lower back.
"No, please? Didn’t we... didn’t we just do it before dinner?"
She was finding it a bit much to handle. Will I actually die in bed at this rate?
Maxwell Peary shook his head. This was his special treat; there was no way he’d back down.
"Good girl. Just once."
He pressed her, step by step, coaxing her gently. Maxwell Peary swore to himself that not in eight lifetis had he ever been this patient with a young woman!
Nia Mitchell shook her head, determined not to give in. My lower back is still so sore!
"Uncle... please spare tonight, okay? We... we can do it tomorrow night instead."
Nia Mitchell had always lived by the principle: put off till tomorrow what you can avoid today.
Maxwell Peary took a deep breath. Watching her lips part and close as she spoke, he ultimately couldn’t restrain himself any longer and lowered his head to kiss her.
MPH!
Nia Mitchell turned her head, trying to dodge the kiss, but Maxwell Peary reached out and cupped the back of her head, holding her still.
Maxwell Peary gradually deepened the kiss, gently nibbling her lips. His tongue carefully parted hers, finding her soft, tender tongue to dance with his own.
Nia Mitchell instantly went limp, able only to lie on the bed and let Maxwell Peary unfasten her clothes and do as he pleased.
...
After their thoroughly satisfying "exercise," Nia Mitchell was so exhausted she didn’t even want to open her eyes, her body cradled in Maxwell Peary’s arms.
"How about you take the top for another round?"
Maxwell Peary’s voice was husky with the unique rasp that ca after making love, and the sound alone made Nia Mitchell feel like her bones were lting.
"No!"
When it involved her, he’d seize any opportunity and refuse to let go. He was truly devious!
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