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Diane's tempting words had power. Not only could she tranquilize the monster within him, but also make it feel pampered.
Meanwhile, she tightened her embrace and whispered, "We should leave, Louis. It's numbing out here."
Like any other voluptuous man, Louis wrapped his arms around her waist and ultimately grabbed her tender ass softly, "Okay. Let's go and have some hot coffee."
Having an affair was like drinking cold porridge to Louis. Nevertheless, he had a precious feeling for Beverly above all of his hookups. He'd wanted to sleep with her too; however, her defiance kept his debauchery ungratified.
Not only was the backstab excruciating, but also the news from his best friend kept her stupefied. On her way back home, she never knew how she ended up in the same pub where Louis had screwed his harlot.
By midnight, Beverly stumbled out of the pub after creating countless dramatic scenes, absolutely intoxicated and half-conscious.
After taking a few steps through the security lights, little did she realize that she couldn't walk in her high heels any longer. As she tottered across the busy road, suddenly a strong beam replaced her sight, followed by a long screech.
"Shit!" she hissed.
Before she could totter back, a car smashed her ribs, compelled her to whirl in the air, and landed in the middle of the road.
"What was that, Roland?" Bruce Roger inquired abruptly, endeavoring to control his plunging sunglasses.
Bruce's expression darkened at the impact while his driver worked to control his accelerating heartbeat. Certainly, he'd hit someone!
"I–I" he trailed off and wheezed.
"S–Someone heedlessly threw himself in front of our car... and, I think I killed him, sir." Thin sweat rolled down his forehead.
"You killed someone?" Bruce's countenance suddenly became solemn, "Get out and check if he's okay."
"Yes, sir," he obeyed, shoved the door open and rushed to where a body lay convulsing in anguish.
Roland was flabbergasted when he turned the body over and realized that it was a gorgeous girl. She was unconscious, but also somehow familiar. As he brushed the hair concealing her face, a pathetic smell of booze wafted into his nostrils.
"Are you okay?" he asked, his fingers shaking rhythmically.
When she reeled over, he virtually took a step back. Certainly, his instincts were right. Wasn't she Louis's girlfriend; Beverly Shirley?
Since the matter had become too perilous for him to comprehend, he rushed back to his boss and reported, "The person we just crashed is your nephew's girlfriend, sir. I don't know what she's doing out here this late, but she's completely messed up."
"Beverly? How messed up?" he repeated, incredulously.
"Yeah, I mean thoroughly intoxicated and insensible."
Bruce knew Beverly Shirley well. Not only had they met, but also his nephew had invited her home during his birthday party. Besides her pleasant smile and indelible laughter, he never knew if she had a dark side, too.
After having a contemplative pause, he ordered, "Help her in."
Soon after, Beverly regained consciousness and felt like throwing up. Regardless of how hard she tried to open her eyes to recognize the frowning man next to her, he was blurry. Meanwhile, she managed to whisper, "Where am I?"
The man next to her stared at her motionlessly. Indeed, she was thoroughly messed up from alcohol. Instead, he held her serenely from falling and scowled.
A while later, she recognized him, "Bruce, right?"
Besides, he ignored her inquiry and ordered his driver to drop them off at his nearby apartment. When Beverly overheard the dialogue, she grunted, "Don't take me to that beast! I have nothing to do with his infidelity..."
"What do you mean?" Bruce grew inquisitive at that part.
Meanwhile, Beverly raised her eyebrows and grinned dolefully, "We broke up today."
Momentarily, tears overwhelmed her.
As the fragments of the ignominious scene haunted her, she sighed softly and dropped her head on his shoulder, "He fucked a prostitute in public..."
After clearing her dry throat, she continued, "And the worst part of it; he blackmailed me to bail them out of the police cell. I'm convinced that you haven't seen his illicit sex tape yet."
"Sex tape?" Bruce frowned further and narrowed his eyes at her.
"Yes, someone recorded them in the act. I'm sure they are going viral now," as she explained, she reached into her pocket to retrieve her phone only to realize that she had misplaced her phone.
Before entering the bar, she remembered the notification that had popped up on her phone screen. By the time she watched it, it had gone viral with billions of views and fallacious comments.
"It seems that the boy needs to be instilled with some morals," he ultimately remarked, trying to subdue his wrath.
"He spoiled your reputation, Bruce. Let him pay for his mistakes!"
One could think Beverly was a forlorn student reporting a crime to his principal. Meanwhile, Bruce squeezed into the far end of the back seat and sighed heavily. Neither did he respond to her stressed, torturous confession.
"Are you listening, Bruce?" Regardless of his ignorance, words kept flowing out of her, while she squeezed in his direction.
Thereafter, she grabbed his shoulder and pulled him into her breath, "Your nephew is an asshole, right?"
Momentarily, Bruce shoved her hands off him and forced her to fall into his lap. With each breath, warm air caressed through his pants, provoking his feelings.
Feeling his erection forming, Bruce struggled to catch his breath. Meanwhile, he grabbed her hair and pulled her up, whispering, "Get up, silly girl!"
Thereafter, she stole a glance at him and chuckled foolishly, "Your nephew is badass, but I think you are a monster, too. Like nephew, like uncle, right? You're not different, are you?"
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