Chapter 33


    Quintessa’sugh was wickedly enchanting, “Besides, I’ve never had the pleasure of making love in a


    Maybach.”


    Her flippant words,ced with a hint of promiscuity, led one to subconsciously assume she had yed


    this game with many men.


    From the shadows, Tyrone exuded a chilling aura of fury. Quintessa paid no mind to Tyrone’s rage,


    reaching out to unbutton his shirt.


    To her, the angrier Tyrone got, the better. If he wasn’t mad, what was the point of all this? Surely she


    wasn’t expected to pacify him? His discontent was herfort.


    Tyrone’s shirt was bespoke, crafted overseas, with even the cufflinks chosen from the finest gems.


    As Quintessa undid the buttons, she taunted, “Didn’t you say that my chests and chin are imnted,


    my waist liposucked, my nose augmented? And you still want to get a room. with me? Quite the


    peculiar taste.”


    Tyrone didn’t move, leaning backzily, allowing Quintessa to strip him of his clothes, raising an


    eyebrow to ask, “Upset?”


    Quintessa let out a cold chuckle, “Oh, Mr. York, so your eyes do work? And here I thought you had a


    vision problem.”


    With thest button undone, Tyrone’s chest was exposed, lean and strong, without exaggerated


    muscles, but each defined line hinted at power.


    Quintessa had known about Tyrone’s physique for three years now. Why not feel if it was free? Her


    index finger traced a line down from his sternum, but before it could reach his abdomen, Tyrone caught


    her hand, “In such a hurry?”


    She arched her lips upwards, lifting her dress and pulling down her neckline to reveal swathes of skin,


    her shoulders round and smooth, the ck lingerie entuating her curves in the dark, a sinful


    temptation.


    Quintessa grabbed his hand and ced it on her chest, “Yes, I can’t wait for you to see if these are real


    or just saline bags.”


    Suddenly, Tyrone’s stern voice cut through the tension, “Stop the car.”


    The driver jolted, swerving into an S–curve before mming to a halt.


    Tyronemanded harshly, “Get out.”


    The driver hesitated, wondering if themand was for him or the fiery beauty in the back.


    Content rights belong to N?velDrama.Org.


    Tyrone repeated, “Get out.”


    9705


    His tone was so icy; the driver didn’t dare linger, stumbling out and running a good twenty meters


    without looking back.


    Now there were only Tyrone and Quintessa inside the car. Thetter leaned into Tyrone’s embrace,


    nibbling the soft flesh of his neck, giggling, “Afraid of being seen?”


    Tyrone, clutching Quintessa’s slender waist and kissing her exposed shoulder, retorted, “Your sunt was


    right; you really have no shame.”


    A cold glint shed in Quintessa’s eyes; she’d deal with Rachel eventually.


    Pressing down on hisp, Quintessa challenged, “And what about you? You got any shame? You are


    not even over her, aren’t you? And yet you’re feeling up her niece? Should I call you in shameless,


    Mr. York?”


    Tyrone grunted, Quintessa was a siren, and he was perversely curious to see how far she’d go.


    Tyrone felt himself on the verge of frenzied outburst; his breathing grew heavier as he reached for the


    zipper of Quintessa’s dress, “You really are a…”


    Just as his fingers found the hidden zipper, Tyrone suddenly cried out in pain.