"Little rascal, do you dare to provoke ? Don’t co crying for rcy later!"
Nicholas Croft threatened through gritted teeth. Beatrice Hargrave just laughed and crooked her finger at him. As Nicholas leaned his handso face closer, the little girl covered her mouth and whispered playfully in his ear, "I’m going to drain you dry later..."
Nicholas Croft...
His dangerous eyes narrowed as he suddenly stood up, his mind focused on the delicious sight in front of him rather than on the candlelit dinner. The movent was so abrupt that the dining chair behind him toppled over, clattering loudly against the marble floor.
Beatrice laughed, trembling as she looked at the man’s dangerous gaze. She placed her hands against his chest when he strode over, and hurriedly said, "Uncle, I’m not full yet..."
"Little rascal, are you teasing ?" Nicholas gritted his teeth. Beatrice looked up innocently, her speech becoming more audacious since she intended to confront him directly, "No, I’m just giving you a heads up. You’re getting on in years, after all. It’s best to ntally prepare you."
Nicholas Croft...
His dangerous eyes narrowed again, but he didn’t say anything. He returned to his seat, righted the chair, and sat down without taking another bite. Instead, he picked up the wine glass in front of him, drained the red wine in one gulp, refilled it, and drank it all again.
Watching the man’s sowhat frustrated deanor, Beatrice continued nibbling on her chicken wings, secretly plotting what might happen later if he found out...
Beatrice considered herself a pragmatist. On her wedding night, other won might be too excited to eat, but she made sure to fill herself up. That way, she’d have the energy to contend with Uncle Nicholas.
When she finished the last chicken wing, the man across from her raised an eyebrow while sipping his wine, "Full?"
"Yeah, pretty much." Beatrice set her napkin on the table, then stood up and extended her arms towards Nicholas.
"Uncle, I’m too full to move..."
Nicholas tilted his head back and drained the wine glass before setting it down. He got up and walked over, reaching out his long arms, when Beatrice made another request.
"I want a piggyback, not to be carried."
Without a word, Nicholas turned, squatted slightly, and Beatrice gladly climbed onto his broad back, her lips curling up, her face resting beside his ear.
Nicholas carried Beatrice up the stairs, one large hand on the railing, the other supporting her bottom. His steps were slow yet steady.
"Uncle, why are you walking so slowly? Is it because you’re getting old and can’t carry ?" Beatrice mischievously stuck out her tongue and teasingly licked Nicholas’s earlobe. He frowned slightly and sternly admonished, "Beatrice, stop it!"
Beatrice grumbled unhappily, "Old man, you’re no fun." After saying that, she rested her face on Nicholas’s back, her lips curling up high where he couldn’t see.
Yes, she was intentionally provoking him. Every ti she ntioned his age in the past, he would prove his strength through his actions.
Nicholas didn’t say anything. He’d drunk quite a bit of wine, and though he wasn’t drunk, he remained cautiously steady while carrying Beatrice up the stairs.
Once they reached the room, he barely had ti to close the door before he let her down, turning around to press her against the door fra.
His long fingers gripped her chin, his dark eyes glinting dangerously as he gritted his teeth and asked, "Little rascal, are you calling old, hmm?"
Without giving Beatrice a chance to respond, he pressed his lips against hers, kissing her heatedly and urgently, biting her lips hard with a punishing force.
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