Her Perverted Tormentor

People usually state how unimaginably filled with glee they would be whenever they've achieved a desired long-term goal.

Although he had never related to that before, at that moment, with Angel, the masked, infamous yet tempting stripper lying in his bed unconsciously, Lucas Rome was overwhelmed with utter happiness.

“Only God knows how much I've wanted you.” His low, husky lustful voice rented through the room as his knees continually drew closer to her.

Lucas was a bit disappointed — her choice of clothing prevented her creamy thighs from being in view, but all that would be irrelevant soon.

Once his massive frame towered over the dark-haired beauty, the otherworldliness of her gorgeousness was one Lucas had ever seen.

A certified playboy he was, and despite the uncountable women he came across, none were as beautiful as Angel.

“Now why the fuck would you be hiding this masterpiece?” Lucas referred to her flawless face as his right hand brushed slowly against it.

The price he paid to Mr. Zayn to have her for a night seemed cheaper when compared to Angel's looks.

Insanely mesmerized by her incomparable beauty, Lucas gradually leaned in.

Those pursed pink lips of hers were utterly irresistible, and he'd be damned hit to relish them unceasingly.

A few inches to capture her succulent lips, the abrupt blaring ringing of his phone interrupted the moment.

“Bloody hell…” Infuriated, Lucas threw his gaze to a side, and on a chair was his jacket, but the ringing incessantly came from there.

Ignoring it would be unwise since whosoever called possibly might call again.

“Fuck me for not putting the darn thing on mute!” Once he alighted from the bed, she unknowingly regained consciousness.

“What?!” Lucas harshly blurted into the phone once he swiped the green button.

“Where are you, Lucas, dear? Your wife…”

“She's not my wife, Mother. Zoey's my pregnant girlfriend — she's just pregnant. I'm not obliged to marry the bitch!” His words were snappy and Mrs. Rome on the other side sighed sadly — her sons were so…

They were stressing her out to the extent she'd break down completely; she needed her husband back.

“Lucas, dear, don't be like this, please. You're becoming too irresponsible, and you even missed your brother's wedding and…”

“Enough Mother. Bye!” Lucas, irritated by her lengthy utterance, ended the call and then snarled.

For hell's sake, he was almost 30 years of age, yet she constantly kept scolding him.

Within a second, Lucas shoved those upsetting thoughts to a side, then smirked at the realization that Angel was still lying in his bed.

“Bliss, here I am.” Smiling widely, he turned to the bed but met it empty.

Lucas, confused and yet to comprehend anything, suddenly felt a profuse pang of pain circulating through his head before his body went limp.

A bottle had been broken on his head.

Blood instantly began seeping bountifully from the hit spot, and it blended with the slipping wine on the floor.

“Hell…!” Lucas, in sheer anguish, cried out as he rolled painfully on the tiles, but unfortunately, pieces of shattered glass pierced his exposed arms.

“What the….” He glanced through his bloody eyes to behold Angel.

She was on her feet, and undoubtedly, she broke the bottle of wine on his head, since a half bottle was in her right hand.

How did she get out of the cuffs? And why did she regain consciousness so shortly?

Those dark eyes of hers radiated rage, and he assumed she was going to end his life.

“Raping a woman to satisfy your lust? Fuckers like you deserve death!” Vilely, she spat, but surprisingly tossed the broken bottle aside.

Unhesitatingly, she dashed out of there, leaving a heavily bleeding Lucas on the floor.

Her heart was thudding so swiftly, and quite fearfully. She just broke a bottle on someone's head, and…

“I'm not even wearing my mask.” Annalise blurted with glassy eyes as fear seeped into her system.

Her face was revealed, and what was the possibility of that fucker recognizing her?

Annalise's hate, and vexation towards Zayn was high as fuck yet intended to get out of this shitty building first.

The greedy old asshole might get her seized by the guards and dragged into that idiot's room again. Annalise couldn't afford to get raped.

It'll traumatize her forever.

Now, by the roadside, a cab was hurriedly hailed down. She went straight in and fortunately, no one aside from the driver was there.

“Crescent Estate please.”

Overly terrified, Annalise knew the sole place she could calm herself in and sleep for the night was the Gregory Penthouse.