Chapter 1
It was a gloomy day. A few people trickled into the modest funeral parlor to pay their respects. The villa's front door, behind the wreaths, had a "Sold" sign plastered on it.
Guests casually placed flowers and spoke loudly without any regard, "Where's the Taylor family's orphan? We came to pay our respects, and she doesn't even show up?"
"Her parents died suddenly, the family went bankrupt overnight, and even this funeral parlor was allowed by the villa's new owner out of sheer pity for just one day. It's normal for a sheltered girl like her to be unable to handle it. We've done our part."
Meanwhile, the so-called sheltered flower of the Taylor family, Isabella Taylor, was hiding in the villa's storage room, her face flushed and breathing heavily.
She had intended to retrieve her mother, Sophia Brown's, last belongings from the villa, but encountered Robert Davis, who forced her to drink a bottle of alcohol. She barely escaped his clutches and found a temporary hiding spot in the storage room.
But the heat in her body was becoming unbearable, and Isabella felt increasingly uncomfortable.
Someone was turning the doorknob outside.
Isabella, terrified, tried to hold the door shut, but her strength was waning. The force outside was relentless and pushed the door open.
"Who's in here?" Matthew Moore's voice was low and displeased. The storage room was dimly lit, and hurried footsteps approached from behind him. He didn't have time to think and quickly locked the door behind him.
Isabella, with her fading consciousness, recognized that this wasn't Robert and felt a slight relief, cautiously retreating to a corner.
The small space grew warmer.
Isabella felt like she was burning in lava, vaguely realizing that if she didn't deal with the effects of the drug soon, it could cause permanent damage. Besides, she needed to get out and handle the funeral arrangements. She couldn't be seen like this.
She looked in Matthew's direction. Even though she couldn't see his face clearly, she could sense he was a tall, strong man. She decided to use him as an antidote, quickly and decisively.
Isabella steeled herself and crawled over. "Can you help me?"
"What?" Matthew barely finished his question before feeling a hot, fragrant body press against him.
Before he could frown, she kissed him, clumsily and desperately, her breath revealing her urgency.
This woman had been drugged? Matthew's Adam's apple bobbed as her soft gasps stirred his nerves.
She bit his lip.
Isabella pulled back, a bit lost, her lips brushing his as she hoarsely whispered, "Bear with me."
Her hand reached for Matthew's pants, swiftly unzipping them, but her movements were rough.
Matthew's temples throbbed as he grabbed her wrist. "Are you trying to break me?"
"I really have no choice. Please..." Isabella's voice broke into a sob, rubbing against him.
Her awkward attempts at seduction unexpectedly aroused him. Matthew gently lifted her chin, kissing her lips. "Take it slow."
His voice inexplicably calmed Isabella's anxiety and confusion.
Matthew kissed her softly, his right hand unzipping her dress, caressing her waist, his thumb brushing her spine, slipping into her underwear, and pressing against her entrance.
Isabella tensed, but he held her firmly by the waist.
"Leave it to me. It's okay." Matthew felt a strange tenderness; his lips trailed down, using his teeth to undo her buttons, lightly biting her chest through her thin bra.
Isabella couldn't help but gasp, instinctively arching her back.
Matthew chuckled, pushing her bra up with his left hand, his thumb rubbing her erect nipple, kissing it as she moaned, his tongue circling her areola, teasing her nipple.
At the same time, his right hand slowly entered her tight entrance, searching for her sensitive spot.
"Wait! There..." Isabella's abdomen tightened, nervously pushing Matthew away.
"What? Does it feel good?" Matthew smirked, adding another finger, pressing and rubbing her sensitive spot.
The tight space made a wet sound, her entrance growing tighter, as if trying to swallow him deeper.
Under the drug's influence, Isabella didn't hold back her moans, arching her back to meet him, writhing in need, unconsciously urging, "Hurry... I need..."
Matthew's throat tightened, his desire fully aroused, his pants straining painfully.
He bit Isabella's earlobe. "Take it out."
Isabella understood, pulling down his pants, his large erection springing free, hitting her palm.
She instinctively grasped it, moving her hand up and down, her hips rubbing against him, silently urging.
Her underwear was soaked, and Matthew pulled it aside, teasing her entrance with his tip.
Isabella grew impatient, grabbing him and guiding him inside.
Matthew groaned, his scalp tingling. "Don't provoke me."
Isabella's mind was foggy, moving her hips to take him in, frustrated by his lack of action. "Move already!"
Matthew gripped her waist, thrusting deeply, silencing her complaints.
He turned her onto her back, lifting her legs onto his shoulders, thrusting wildly.
The sound of their bodies colliding echoed in the small space, heightening their senses.
Half an hour later, Isabella's legs hung limply around him, her back against the storage room door. Matthew, tireless, slowed his pace, teasing her with shallow thrusts.
Visible puddles formed on the floor.
Isabella murmured, "Enough."
She still had to attend the funeral, deal with those annoying social obligations.
But this man's embrace was inexplicably warm.
Matthew's voice was deeper. "I haven't finished. Enough?"
He thrust hard.
Isabella opened her mouth, but no sound came out, her toes curling, legs clamping around his waist, her upper body arching as she climaxed again.
Her fluids splashed onto the floor.
Matthew smirked, placing her on a nearby table, lifting one of her legs, and continuing to thrust.
Isabella was completely spent, letting him have his way.
Matthew slapped her reddened butt. "Tighten up. Didn't you want me to go harder?"
He slowly withdrew, her entrance tightening, afraid he'd leave.
Isabella whimpered, "Deeper."
"As you wish." Matthew pulled back to her entrance, thrusting deeply.
The wooden table creaked for a long time.
When Isabella came to, it was dark outside, the storage room door wide open.
She stared blankly at the moonlight outside, numbly fixing herself, and went to the now-empty funeral parlor.
White flowers lay scattered on the ground, her parents' photos askew.
Isabella silently tidied everything, finally holding her parents' photos, sitting on the steps, tears silently streaming down her face.
In one night, she lost her home, everything, and was forced to submit to a stranger. The sorrow overwhelmed her.
Isabella leaned against the photos, crying softly, "Dad, Mom, what should I do now?"
Her phone vibrated.
Isabella opened the screen, tears blurring her vision as she read the message: [Ms. Taylor, have you made your decision?]