Pampered by My Secret Husband Chapter 534 - 537: Fennie, I like your name

Sophie struggled forcefully twice, and Thomas Shannon’s hand firmly supported her buttocks. The heat from his palm continuously seeped through her clothes, warming her skin.

Sophie’s face, already flushed, grew hotter. Her mouth suddenly went dry. She patted his back with one hand. "Thomas Shannon, let go."

"Who just told not to leave?"

Sophie was speechless. Could the nature of the situation be the sa?

Still on his back, she squird. "Thomas Shannon, I’m tired and want to sleep..."

"After exercise, sleep quality will be better," Thomas Shannon said, his voice laced with aning.

Sophie played dumb. "Oh, then I’ll start exercising tomorrow."

The man chuckled, took two steps back, and retreated into the bedroom, kicking the door shut with one foot.

With her on his back, he turned and walked to the bedside.

"Thomas Shannon, let’s talk. Don’t get handsy."

"I won’t use my hands, and I won’t use my feet."

The man threw her body onto the bed, his tall, sturdy body pressing down on her. He quickly stripped off her clothes...

"Ah..."

Sophie bit her lower lip angrily. "You said you wouldn’t get handsy, you liar!"

The man’s handso brow furrowed, annoyed by her protests. His burning thin lips descended, kissing her deeply.

Burning body temperature, hot breath, and the rapidly rising heat in the room wove together into a moving symphony.

The night was deep, the amorous atmosphere enchanting...

Finally, an exhausted Sophie was drowsy. She vaguely heard the man’s deep voice calling by her ear—

"Fennie..."

Sophie raised her hand and waved it feebly, murmuring, "So noisy."

Thomas Shannon seed to have discovered sothing interesting, and his index finger poked at her cheek, as soft and springy as coconut jelly. "Who nad you?"

"...I don’t know."

"Truly farsighted."

"..."

"Fennie, I like your na."

"..."

"Know why?"

"..."

The man leaned into her ear, warm breath sprayed into it, tickling her to her very core.

Sophie shrank her neck, wanting him to stop. She was sleepy and wanted to sleep. But when she tried to sound angry, her voice ca out soft and coquettish, "Thomas Shannon, if you don’t stop, I’ll kick you off the bed."

Her satisfied, adorably innocent look after their intimacy made Thomas Shannon chuckle. His thin lips parted slightly, and he nipped her earlobe. "Fennie... ’Fu-fu’... is that your way of saying ’screw your husband’?"

Sophie lifted her eyelids, her small, pink fists pumling his handso face. Her face, still flushed from their earlier activities, reddened further. "Beast!"

As they were frolicking, the cell phone on the bedside table chid.

It was a ssage.

Sophie pushed him. "Your phone."

Thomas Shannon reached out, picked up the phone, and opened the ssage.

Sophie leaned her head over to look curiously. The ssage was an MMS, very simple, containing only a photo.

In the photo, George Stanford was tied to a chair, one hand placed on the chair’s armrest, his hand a blur of blood...

Sophie shivered, her drowsiness vanishing instantly. "It’s Frank Mitchell..."

Sending Old Mr. Standford’s photo in the dead of night... what on earth does he want?

Old Mr. Standford’s hand, the one he needs for surgery, absolutely cannot have anything happen to it!

Sophie was now wide awake. She sat up abruptly, snatched the phone with one hand, and dialed the number.

Thomas Shannon’s eyes darkened. He also sat up and reached for the phone. Sophie dodged him as the call connected on the other end.