Flash Marriage: Pampered by Mr.Bigshot
Chapter 29 Addicted to Forceful Kisses

Chapter 29: Chapter 29 Addicted to Forceful Kisses

"Mmph..."

Nia Mitchell’s eyes widened. A sharp pain shot through her lips, and a faint, coppery-sweet taste spread between them. Her struggles were futile. Eventually, she closed her eyes and silently endured it.

His kiss was forceful and overpowering, a predatory conquest tinged with that same coppery sweetness.

A long while later, he finally released her swollen lips.

Nia Mitchell’s eyes, glistening with a watery mist, watched him dazedly.

His prominent Adam’s apple bobbed, and his magnetic voice resonated throughout the Living Room.

"I’m going to count to three. If you haven’t left by the time I reach three... then you’ll never escape me for the rest of your life."

"One!"

"Two!"

"Nia Mitchell! You have no more chances to regret this! You’re mine!"

"Mmph..."

Maxwell Peary kissed her tender lips once more, giving her no chance to flee. That "three"... he found he didn’t have the courage to say it.

Years later, Bunny would often tell Maxwell Peary how glad she was that she hadn’t turned and left that day.

Maxwell Peary would only smile without replying. Back then... if she had chosen to turn and leave, he probably would have resorted to force to keep her...

"Uncle Peary..."

The strength in Nia Mitchell’s small fists, drumming against Maxwell Peary’s chest, ebbed away. Lack of oxygen made her face flush crimson and her mind go blank; she was utterly disoriented.

"Hmm?"

He gently released her lips, her warm breath caressing his nostrils.

"I’m sorry..."

Nia Mitchell panted softly. Listening to his heavy breathing, she buried her head in his rising and falling chest.

Maxwell Peary lowered his head and kissed her neck. The gauze bandage there pricked his skin, a sharp reminder of his failure to protect her.

"Will you give yourself to me?"

He gently cupped her face, feeling the warmth of her skin, and spoke in a low, husky voice.

Before Nia Mitchell could react, Maxwell Peary lazily swept her up and carried her towards the Master Bedroom.

He gently placed her on the large, gray bed. Lowering his head to kiss her tender lips, he heard her weak gasps. His eyes smoldered with a subtle desire.

"I don’t want to wait any longer."

His words lingered by her ear. Nia Mitchell opened her hazy eyes, gazing at his handsome face so close to hers.

"Do you remember what happened on Maple Avenue in D City, six years ago on July 23rd?"

Nia Mitchell froze.

July 23rd, six years ago?

She was suddenly pulled back into a memory—

On July 23rd, six years ago, the 23rd day of summer vacation after her first year of high school, her father, without telling her, had registered his marriage to a strange woman. Nia Mitchell stared at this new person, hostility instantly flaring within her.

"Dad, I’m your daughter! Why didn’t I know anything about this?"

Her dad frowned. "Nia, be good. Listen to me. From now on, she is your mother."

"She is not!" Nia Mitchell yelled, tears streaming down her face.

"She’s definitely not! Dad, have you forgotten Mom? Mom will come back!"

Nia Mitchell shoved away the woman’s outstretched hand, hating her hypocritical smile.

"Your mother... she’s already dead!"

Nia Mitchell, her eyes red, glared at her father.

"No, she’s not! She’s not!"

Crying, she burst out of the door and ran frantically, eventually ending up on Maple Avenue.

Just as she was squatting under a tree crying, gunshots suddenly rang out!

She was caught in a gunfight—an incident she would never forget, etched deep into her heart and soul.

A pitch-black gun was pointed at her forehead. Her eyes widened in terror; she thought she was going to die.

"BANG!"

A shot rang out. It wasn’t her who fell, but the man pointing the gun at her forehead.

A strange man, an "uncle," had saved her...

When she next awoke, she was in the Hospital.

The Maple Avenue incident that year caused a huge sensation. It was rumored to be a gang war, and apart from her, there were no survivors at the scene.

"Are you that uncle?"

Nia Mitchell pushed aside Maxwell Peary’s wandering hands and looked earnestly into his eyes. No wonder his eyes always seemed so familiar.

"But... wasn’t it said there were no survivors from that gunfight?"

Maxwell Peary nodded, murmuring a soft, "Mm."

He casually brushed aside her scattered, beautiful hair, then lowered his head to press a kiss to her forehead.

"I’m very glad that my cold-blooded self back then saved you."