She's Too Busy Winning to Watch Him Cry novel Chapter 250

Lyra's vision was rapidly blurring. Seeing that the bodyguard didn't object, she offered him a slow, seductive curl of her finger. "You'll do."

Lyra stumbled forward, clumsily tackling the bodyguard onto the bed, her small hands erratically tugging at his suit jacket.

"It's fine, I already know how this goes, I'm not scared—"

She knew she was just walking the same miserable path as her past life. The details were slightly different, which might tweak the ending a bit, but the core humiliation was exactly the same.

In her past life, Rowan had thrown her to Lucas. This time, he threw her to a bodyguard. Whoever was standing closest, that was who he'd use to break her.

"Whatever..."

She was done fighting it. She just accepted her fate.

It wasn't like this was her first time, anyway.

The bodyguard had absolutely no idea what her delirious rambling meant. All he saw was the boss's captive wildly tearing at his clothes. The blood drained from his face as he frantically caught her wandering hands, his voice tight with panic. "Miss Fairchild, you need to calm down."

Lyra's cheeks were burning, her breathing ragged and frantic. Her entire body felt entirely boneless, melting against him as she acted purely on instinct, whispering timidly, "I'm scared it'll hurt... please be gentle with me..."

Those words struck the bodyguard like a physical blow. He froze completely, a sudden wave of heat rushing to his head, leaving him awkwardly paralyzed on the mattress.

Lyra's limbs felt like jelly. She looped her arms tightly around the bodyguard's neck, tilting her head up to press her lips against his.

The drug running through her veins was potent enough that even a man with Rowan's iron self-control had almost lost his mind to it on the yacht. For a girl with zero defenses, it was entirely devastating.

Even a half-dose was more than enough to completely shatter her inhibitions.

The bedroom door was violently violently kicked open. Rowan walked in, and the cigarette slipped from between his fingers, hitting the floor with a soft thud.

He crossed the room in two massive strides. His large hand clamped brutally over her mouth, while his other fist drove ruthlessly into the bodyguard's jaw.

"B-Boss, I swear I didn't touch her!" The bodyguard crumpled to the floor, blood pooling at the corner of his mouth as he held his hands up in frantic surrender.

Rowan shot a look of pure disgust at the man's lower half. He pulled Lyra's searing hot body tightly against his own chest and snapped at Wesley, "Drag him out of here. Call a doctor."

Wesley didn't dare say a word. He simply nodded and dragged the bleeding man out of the room.

Clearly, the boss had decided to spare Lyra this time.

Lyra was completely oblivious that the man holding her had swapped. Her arms were still locked around Rowan's neck. Burning with feverish desperation, she let out a soft whimper and leaned up to kiss him.

The next second, she was roughly thrown back onto the mattress.

He wanted to know what the Fairchild Princess tasted like.

The moment the thought crossed his mind, hesitation vanished. Rowan dropped one knee onto the mattress and leaned over, his massive frame caging her in.

He slid a hand under Lyra's soft waist, lowered his head, and captured her lips.

Her skin was incredibly soft, smelling of a faint, intoxicating sweetness. Even her lips felt like crushed velvet...

The kiss broke for a fraction of a second. Lyra clung to Rowan's neck, burying her flushed face against his collarbone. A delicate, seductive scent flooded his senses, wrapping around him tightly. This time, he didn't push her away.

He crashed his mouth down on hers again, the kiss turning into an urgent, starving demand.

Both of them were gasping for air.

Lyra's hair was tangled across the pillows, her face flushed a deep crimson, a rosy flush spreading down her radiant skin.

He was kissing her so aggressively that soft, breathless whimpers escaped her throat.

Rowan felt like he had been struck by lightning. His grip tightened bruisingly around her impossibly narrow waist, consumed by the primal urge to absolutely devour her.

Without thinking, his hand dropped toward his belt...