Bride of Retribution: Aloof Billionaire's Dominant Game

There was barely any scent of alcohol on Atlas Hallow; his tolerance was quite impressive, so two or three glasses of red wine were nothing to him.

But Charlotte Miller was different. She began to exude a faint fragrance of wine, her small face flushed, her eyes misty and inebriated.

If it were any other woman, she might have lost her composure while drunk, but not Charlotte.

Atlas Hallow’s big hand firmly held Charlotte’s slender waist. He exuded a cold aura as if no one could approach him, and all the warmth was meant to envelop the woman beside him.

The night was not actually over yet, for after the auction, everyone would partake in the usual mingling and photo sessions, but Atlas Hallow seemed entirely uninterested in staying here any longer.

At the entrance of the conference center, someone had already brought his car around. He helped Charlotte into the car, then got into the driver’s seat himself, reaching over to buckle her seatbelt.

A pair of watery eyes half-open, half-closed, glanced at the man beside her.

She just hated this man, always so domineering, as if the whole world should conform to his will.

Charlotte smiled, taking off her jacket, then began to unbutton her shirt one by one...

The quiet inside the sealed car began to slowly change. The man’s low, labored breathing, and the visible bobbing of his thick throat, carried a palpable tension and ambiguity.

The lingerie she wore was of an extremely thin style, merely a single layer of nearly translucent lace below her collarbone, revealing her milky white skin, smooth to an enchanting degree. Under the thin fabric, something like faint pink flower patterns seemed to show through, and Atlas Hallow’s eyes were fixed on that pale blush, his gaze almost blood-red.

Had she become like this after spending years abroad?

Charlotte licked her lips like a little fox, her voice sweet and filled with seduction: ”Atlas Hallow, what are you getting excited about?”

The woman chuckled, her eyes languidly roaming: ”It’s not like you’re some upright man, not like it’s the first time you’ve seen a woman scantily clad, can’t handle it?”

”I don’t really have many women.” Atlas Hallow’s voice was hoarse, enough to make one’s heart tremble, and the moonlight and streetlight filtered through the windshield, casting a layer of white fluorescence on her, making it hard to look away.

”Liar...” Charlotte looked at Atlas Hallow, laughing drunkenly, then reached over to unbutton her black velvet trousers, her long legs kicking them off, twisting her slender and graceful waist a few times to shimmy the black pants down as well.

She just didn’t like the way this man always seemed to hold all the ownership in his hands, she wanted to see what it felt like when she was the one in control.

Charlotte crawled over from her seat, even though she was drunk, she sat herself steady on Atlas Hallow’s lap.

Atlas Hallow’s hands remained on the steering wheel, while Charlotte sat soft and pliant on his legs, her body leaning sideways against him, whispering: ”Drive properly, I didn’t say to stop, you can’t stop...”

”Charlotte, you’re playing with fire...” Atlas felt that what ran through his veins was not blood, but gasoline ready to ignite with a spark.

She was wearing so little, so close, that she might have already ignited without any ignition at all.

”I’m not playing with fire, I’m playing with you...” There had been countless times before when this man took possession of her body without regard for her feelings, always assuming all initiative was his, but Charlotte didn’t want him to always have this superiority.

At this moment, Charlotte was like a rebellious girl, determined to do precisely what he didn’t want her to do.

Her slender, lustrous arms reached behind her back to undo the hook of her bra, and her entire bare back came into reflection on the windshield.

Suppressing his frenzied heartbeat, Atlas Hallow, with all the self-control he could muster, madly drove the car onto a secluded road.

”Are you running a fever?” Charlotte pressed against Atlas Hallow’s body, clearly feeling that his temperature was on the verge of boiling over.

The dimly lit suburban road was almost devoid of vehicles, and Atlas Hallow’s speed gradually slowed down, savoring every trace of sweet scent emanating from her body.

Her cool, soft hands unbuttoned his shirt, one after another, and once all were undone, her soft chest, as gentle as a white dove, pressed against his. Her body temperature was always slightly cooler, and when pressed against Atlas Hallow’s bare, burning chest, the subtle crackling sound of cold and hot intermingling could almost be heard in the air.