บททั้งหมดของ My Stepbrother’s Cruel Obsession (BL): บทที่ 201 - บทที่ 210

"Open your eyes and look at me, little bird!" he ordered me in a possessive hiss, kissing away the tears of pleasure escaping down my cheeks. "Look at me while I make you feel free in this sky!"I opened my pupils and met his gaze, bloodshot with pure devotion. Frederick began a slow, deep, rhythmic thrusting movement, sinking into me to the root and withdrawing almost completely before driving his weight into my core once more. The hum of the jet's turbines accompanied the impact of our sweaty skin on the leather."Mmm... ah... Frederick... deeper..." I groaned out of my mind, digging my nails into his shoulders."I love you, Luke Waid-Bayron... I love you more than my own life," he swore to me between continuous gasps, accelerating the pace of his strokes, making me convulse with pleasure over the sheets.The physical consumption was an exchange of absolute command. We marked each other with soft bites, whispered promises of loyalty in each other's ears, and surrendered to an unbrid

In the center of the table sat Prosecutor Van Houten. A man in his mid-fifties, with well-groomed gray hair, a sallow face, and a gaze loaded with aristocratic contempt. Beside him sat two corporate lawyers from the Swiss firm we had defeated at the customs board."Punctual, like any criminal seeking a deal, Mr. Bayron," Van Houten began in articulated Spanish with a heavy accent, without standing up. "I assume you have your passports ready for preventive surrender."Luke didn't answer the greeting. He walked straight to the center of the table, sat in the chair opposite the prosecutor, and let his leather briefcase drop with a dry thud onto the mahogany. I settled right beside him, resting my forearms on the table, locking my eyes on the foreigner's jugular."Let us save the diplomatic ceremonies, Prosecutor Van Houten," Luke snapped in a flat, icy tone. "You issued a summons under the charge of money laundering and cover-up of Richard Bayron's operations in series B. Present your ev

A gauze pad soaked in blood covered the left side of his chest. Hearing the impact of our footsteps against the vinyl floor, Rusty opened his eyes with effort, searching for my figure in the dim light."Luke..." Rusty articulated in a raspy thread of a voice, coughing a smear of blood onto his lips. "You came... damn it... you came..."I stepped up to the edge of the operating table, setting my leather briefcase on the floor, looking at my brother with a mixture of bitterness, pain, and suppressed resentment. Frederick stood right behind me, like an iron shadow, arms crossed, his gaze fixed on the dying man's face."I'm here, Rusty," I told him in a flat tone, resting my fingertips on the metal edge of the gurney. "Speak fast. The warden said you had something to give me regarding the safe."Rusty let out a sharp groan as the monitors accelerated their alert pace."Richard... that miserable old man isn't broke, Luke," Rusty confessed, his voice halting from the lack of air in his coll

"Tell me what the fuck you're going to do, little bird," I ground out in a thread of a raspy voice, pulling him tighter against my lap."We're using the customs channel to broadcast a quick-response transmission," he dictated to me, his eyes shining with a mathematical cruelty. "We're going to destroy Richard without touching him."I turned my face toward the pilot, who was glancing at us through the mirror, pale-faced."Change of course!" I ordered through gritted teeth. "To the central customs network tower! Move now!"We landed on the rooftop of the customs television network building ten minutes later. The helicopter's blades were barely beginning to lose speed when Luke threw the hatch open and stepped down with a firm stride, adjusting his blue tie and suit jacket.I walked behind him, my hand slipped inside the lapel of my tuxedo, gun loaded in its holster, and the escort deploying in a fan pattern down the service stairs.We entered the production floor. The network director,

POV: LukeRichard's words kept bouncing inside my skull like a metallic echo. The helicopter landed on the pad of the southern mansion under a thunderstorm that was beginning to lash the coast. Neither of us spoke a single word during the walk from the helipad to the main entrance. The silence inside the armored vehicle was thick, cutting, heavy with a suffocating tension.I pushed open the double doors of the foyer. The echo of our footsteps on the marble sounded dry."Darrel," I called out loud, without stopping my march toward the west wing hallway.The accountant jogged out of the accounting office, holding a tablet in his hand."Mr. Waid... the customs channel reports that Richard's broadcast in the plaza was cut off by the federal police..." Darrel began to say."I don't care about the broadcast, Darrel," I cut him off abruptly, my voice coming out in a flat, icy hiss. "The keys to the confidential basement archive. Give me the keys right now."Darrel swallowed hard seeing the r