Master of his heart (Brielle and Max)

Max Dorsey never imagined he’d wake up under a woman in a woman’s bed. Brielle snagged his collar and planted a wet kiss on his neck, ensuring she left a telling mark before releasing him.

“Morning, Uncle Max.”

After the greeting, she leaned in for a passionate good morning kiss on his lips.

Max’s hair was a tousled mess, his hawk-like eyes narrowed slightly, and he chuckled, his hand playfully squeezing her neck. “Brielle, you’re quite bold.”

Taking him for a ride, she certainly was bold.

His grip tightened. Contentt bel0ngs to N0ve/lDrâ/ma.O(r)g!

Brielle’s face turned a deep shade of red as she flashed him a charming, breathless smile, “Life is too short, better make every moment count, right?”

Max paused, a frosty glint in his eyes as he let her go and reached for his clothes.

“Uncle Max, where are you off to now?”

His features were staggeringly attractive. Even a casual glance sent shivers down one’s spine. “Off to pick out a plot for you in the cemetery. Do you prefer a sunrise or sunset view?”

Brielle’s pupils dilated, and she looked away sheepishly, “You’re really funny, Uncle Max.”

Max stood nearly six-foot-three, an imposing figure with a black rosary bracelet giving him an otherworldly air. He was the Dorsey family’s fifth son, commonly known as The Priest. “Coffin preferences? What kind of wood do you fancy?”

There was not a hint of a smile in his eyes. His wrist bones were tense, and his dark eyes, slightly lowered, were tinted with a hint of indifference.

Brielle licked her lips, “Is there also a coffin? It looks like you want to preserve my whole body. Should I say thank you?”

I

Max had never encountered such an audacious woman. A few specks of ruthlessness surged in his eyes. His long finger lifted, tilting her chin up.

Her face was one of the most stunning in Beaconsfield. Describing her as breathtaking wouldn’t be an exaggeration, but she was vain, pretentious, and pompous, the type of woman he despised the most.

“You want to remain intact?”

“If you are generous enough.”

She didn’t have a flamboyant beauty, rather a delicate and soft air, her expressions softening her features just right.

Max suddenly laughed, the harshness in his eyes receding, but his grip on her grew firmer. He tormented her until she winced in pain, his other hand tracing down along her waist.

The cold touch of the black rosary bracelet against her skin made her tense up. He wasn’t flirting: he was appraising her like an item for sale.

“Can’t Spencer satisfy you?”

Spencer was Brielle’s fiancé, Max’s nephew.

But not for long. Spencer had been caught in bed with her best friend, and now Brielle had returned the favor with this grand gesture.

What a delightful game!

“What do you mean, Uncle Max? I assure you, there’s nothing untoward between your nephew and me.”

Brielle’s voice was dripping with seduction, her glossy tongue peeked out from between her lips, enchanting like a siren.

Max narrowed his eyes. In Beaconsfield, countless women desired to be with him, but he had never taken them seriously. And now, his soon-to-be niece-in-law had succeeded.

A dangerous aura began to envelop him.

“Are you sure this is what you want?”

“Huh?”

Brielle had just enough time to let out a gasp before a wave of intense trepidation swept from her throat to her stomach, as Max pinned her back onto the bed.

“Mmph.”

His force was overwhelming, ensnaring her limbs and torso with an overpowering grasp.

In the end, Brielle couldn’t even summon a sound. It wasn’t until the jarring ring of her cellphone that she blinked awake from the chaos.