PopularNovelChapter 251
After driving for what felt like forever, Clara finally pulled up to the old, ramshackle cottage. The place looked like
it had been standing for at least two decades, surrounded by nothing but barren hills and scattered with leftover
building materials-it felt more like a scene from a ghost story than a home.
In the middle of the overgrown garden stood a lone grave, strangely well-kept and covered in fresh flowers,
standing out against the otherwise neglected setting. Living out here, with only a solitary grave for company-it
was the kind of loneliness you could feel in your bones.
Clara couldn't help but feel a twinge of sadness. The windows were all boarded up, not a hint of daylight getting
through. It was probably as dark inside at noon as it was at midnight.
She rang the doorbell, and before she even had a chance to ring it again, a hand shot out, pulling her inside with
eager anticipation.
"Hey... you don't have to rush every time. My bags are still outside," she teased, looking around. The room was
dimly lit, barely enough light to see by.
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He gently turned her head back, capturing her lips in a deep kiss. Clara melted into it, letting him guide her over
to the couch.
He was clearly impatient, leaning back and watching her with a hungry gaze, his Adam's apple bobbing as he
tightened his grip on her waist.
Clara pressed her hands against his chest, feeling his heart beating wildly beneath her fingers. Snuggling closer
like a contented kitten, she murmured, "Is this really your place?"
So far from civilization-if it weren't for him, she doubted she'd ever set foot in such a remote spot.
He seemed satisfied, "Yeah, you don't like it?"
"No, it's not that. I just feel for you. Out here all by yourself, no shops, no neighbors do you ever talk to anyone?"
He tilted his head slightly to look at her. Even in the dim light, she could sense he saw the concern in her eyes.
He felt full, like he was overflowing with emotion. Clara couldn't help but make a small sound.
He seemed in high spirits tonight, "I don't really like chatting with people."
No wonder he always replied to her texts instantly unless he was upset he didn't have many friends.
Clara cupped his face in her hands. Well, if he wasn't keen on chatting, she wouldn't force it. No wonder he had
such an unusual personality.
If she lived here alone, she'd probably go stir-crazy.
Wanting to know more, she wrapped her arms around his neck. He planted a soft kiss on top of her head.
"Feeling sorry for me?"
"Can't I?"
"Sure."
As soon as he said the word, he gave in to his desires. Clara felt like a small boat at the mercy of a storm.
Caught up in his passion, they moved from the couch to the coffee table and back, his enthusiasm leaving her
breathless and hoarse.
She asked him to stop, but he was relentless, treating each moment like it was their last chance.
Back on the couch, she was spent, leaning against him as she caught her breath.
But after such a whirlwind, this slow burn was almost more than she could handle. She bit his shoulder, urging
him on.
"Con."
He chuckled softly, holding her tighter.
When they finally cto rest, she sprawled lazily on the couch, letting him clean up the mess they'd made.
Feeling him wiping near her feet, she playfully kicked out.
But she was too tired to put any strength behind it, and he easily caught her foot.
She pouted, "Every twe meet, it's like this-so reckless."
He traced his fingers over her foot, bringing his lips close for a gentle kiss. "Don't you enjoy it?"
She did, but sometimes she wondered-wasn't it all just a bit too wild?
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