CHAPTER 597: CHAPTER 597: DO YOU WANT GENTLE OR ROUGH?

Harry Hunter turned Isabella Weaver over, letting her lie on the bed as he leaned in to love her in the closest embrace.

He used a bit more force than usual, even gripping with his fingers, becoming more intense, more frenzied.

This was his woman.

No one else could hold her!

That bastard Alexander Parker must have held her many times before!

Jealousy ignited a fire in Harry Hunter’s heart!

His strength gradually went out of control, causing Isabella Weaver to cry out again.

Was Harry Hunter going crazy?

Why was he so forceful tonight, even rough!

Her eyes reddened, almost in tears: "Harry, you’re hurting me!"

Harry instantly stopped and gently cradled her in his arms, kissing her softly: "Does it hurt?"

He didn’t feel like he was using that much force though!

What a little princess!

Isabella burst into tears: "I don’t want this anymore, let go of me, you’re a brute!"

There’s no way Harry could let go of her; if he truly did, she’d definitely get angrier and accuse him of being perfunctory.

Heart aching, he wiped her tears away with kisses, scolding himself: "Yeah, I’m a brute."

His fingers brushed her inner thigh, feeling dampness and her unstoppable trembling breaths.

Isn’t this just perfect?

He kissed her tenderly: "Baby, don’t you like it? Your body seems to say otherwise."

"I don’t like it!"

"How about trying again? I have a feeling you enjoy this thrilling style? You’re already..."

Isabella hurriedly covered his mouth: "If you keep talking nonsense, you’re sleeping outside!"

Harry licked her palm, placing her hand on his chest so she could feel his heartbeat: "Still think I’m brushing you off?"

"Not anymore."

"Hmm."

"Now it’s domestic violence!"

Harry pinched her nose, his tone indulgent and doting: "Would I ever dare?"

"I’m really in pain!"

Harry leaned down: "Then let me kiss it better."

The room’s heat climbed higher and higher; Isabella’s screams turned to sobs, then back to screams, as if undergoing endless cycles until Harry finally spared her.

Exhausted, she lay on the bed, and Harry carried her to the bathroom to bathe her and then back to bed again.

She was utterly drained, but Harry still wouldn’t let her sleep, nibbling her ear as he asked: "Was I perfunctory?"

Isabella wouldn’t dare say he was: "Very serious! Not perfunctory at all!"

"Am I abusive?"

"You must have misheard! I said be careful not to catch a cold!"

"Do you love me?"

"I do!"

"I feel like you’re brushing me off, that answer lacked sincerity and seriousness."

"I love you!"

"Love who? I couldn’t hear it."

"I love Harry Hunter!"

"Hmm, good girl."

Harry flipped her over beneath him: "Since you love me so much, I shouldn’t come off too cold. This time, do you want it gentler or rougher?"

Isabella’s heart pounded with fear, clinging to his waist and using her most delicate and spoiled voice: "Honey, I’m scared, I was wrong, let’s just sleep..."

Harry was very pleased, the satisfaction of being her man reaching a whole new level.

He lay back down, wrapping his arms around her slender, flexible waist, his tone gentle: "My baby is so good."

Isabella nestled in his embrace, gritting her teeth secretly, determined that tomorrow night she would find a rope to tie him up and whip him with it until he begged for mercy!

But no, even if he begged, it would be useless!

She’d whip him until his skin was broken and bleeding!

Then caress his face, saying, My baby is so good! To piss him off!

Isabella drifted into sleep amidst her joyful fantasies.

Even if Harry could read minds, he couldn’t predict his little wife’s devious plans, thinking she was truly being good, holding her with satisfaction and giving her several kisses.

He secretly changed her alarm clock, holding her close as he fell asleep.