Scent of Betrayal

Scent of Betrayal

Alice Moore · Ongoing · 32.3k Words

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Introduction

To save my adopted brother Bruce, I married Nicholas Jackson. For three years, our marriage was a secret—our only intimacy a monthly ritual to appease his grandfather, nothing more. He was a powerful CEO, while I was just a shadow hidden away in his mansion.

The day I found out I needed a heart transplant, I saw him in the hospital corridor, laughing with Olivia. When Bruce returned to the country, he already had a sweet girlfriend on his arm, calling me nothing more than “someone from the past.”

Turns out, the vows I kept and the family ties I cherished were nothing but a cruel joke. I handed Nicholas the divorce papers, moved out of that empty house, and picked up my perfume bottles again—the creator of “Eternal Tears,” long buried by marriage, was finally coming back.

When my name echoed through the international perfume world, and my medical records were exposed, Bruce clutched my wrist, eyes red: “Abby, give me another chance.” Nicholas blocked the lab door, his voice shaking: “Abby, I was wrong.”

But I simply walked past them. Their belated affection? More bitter than cheap perfume. I stopped longing for it a long time ago.

Chapter 1

Abigail's POV

I struggled in a fog-like consciousness, my body burning like a furnace, blood boiling in my veins, every inch of skin craving to be touched.

Sweat slid stickily down my neck, while my limbs felt heavy as if filled with lead, unable to move. In my ear, the man's deep, heavy breathing was clearly audible, his hot breath blowing on the root of my ear, scalding me into an involuntary shrink.

"Abigail," he called my name softly, his voice as hoarse as sandpaper. His lips pressed against my earlobe, licking wetly, teeth gently nibbling, sending numbing electricity instantly throughout my body.

His palms were rough and scorching, gripping my waist tightly, fingertips digging deep into my skin, bringing pain mixed with heat.

I couldn't help but whimper softly, shame almost making me want to find a crack to crawl into, yet my body betrayed my reason, involuntarily responding to him.

His hand slid across my chest, kneading wantonly, his thumb grinding over the sensitive tip of my nipple, causing my body to suddenly arch, a broken moan escaping from my lips.

"Don't... please don't," I begged weakly, feeling my eyes already moistening.

"Don't be afraid, I won't hurt you," his hoarse reassurance fell softly, followed by kisses on my collarbone, his tongue meticulously licking every inch of skin, leaving a string of ambiguous red marks.

His hand explored more intimate territories, fingertips slowly teasing the wet folds, each touch causing waves of desire to breach my rational defenses. I gripped the sheets beneath me tightly, nails digging deep into my palms, tears silently falling.

He replaced his fingers with his lips and tongue, his wet mouth enveloping my most sensitive pussy, his tongue flexibly teasing, the force of his sucking almost making me scream. I instinctively grabbed his hair, my body twisting uncontrollably, my mouth both begging for mercy and seeming to demand more.

His deep moans vibrated through, making my entire body tingle. Then, he pressed down his body, his hard, scorching penis against my labia, hot as a branding iron. He entered me slowly, the tearing pain making me cry out involuntarily, tears rolling down my cheeks, the feeling of fullness almost suffocating me.

His thrusting movements were slow and deep, each one seemingly about to shatter me. He held my buttocks, adjusting the angle to strike directly at the most sensitive point in my depths. Pleasure coursed through my body like electric currents, I bit my teeth and released broken moans.

Sweat and bodily fluids mingled between us, the sound of flesh colliding particularly clear in the quiet room, making me feel so ashamed I wanted to disappear. He held the back of my head, giving me a deep kiss that was both fierce and lingering, his tongue plundering my breath.

My body began to tremble uncontrollably, a strong orgasm pushing me to the clouds, a scream erupting from deep in my throat. After the climax, I completely collapsed. He growled and quickened his movements, releasing hot semen inside me, making me shudder involuntarily again.

Consciousness gradually blurred, shame and exhaustion engulfing me like a tide. His movements became gentle, showing concern, but I was immersed in chaos, unaware, feeling only confusion and helplessness.


Morning sunlight penetrated the curtains, shining directly on my face, awakening me from confusion. The moment I opened my eyes, I felt pain throughout my body, only then discovering I was lying naked on an unfamiliar bed. Shame and fear instantly swept over me.

Turning to look beside me, an equally naked man was sleeping soundly. I immediately recognized him—Nicholas Jackson, the heir to the Jackson family, CEO of Starlane Holdings Group, one of the most dazzling golden bachelors in the business world. My heart almost stopped.

Everything that happened last night flooded into my mind in fragmented images, chaotic and disjointed. I wanted to flee this place immediately, but my body felt as if it had been emptied of strength, even lifting my arm was difficult. Enduring the discomfort, I tried to recall why I was here.

I remembered, I came to see Nicholas about my adopted brother Bruce's situation. Bruce had offended powerful people and was facing imprisonment, and I desperately hoped Nicholas could help prevent this disaster and allow Bruce to leave the country temporarily to avoid trouble.

Before the meeting, my father Robert insisted I drink a beverage that supposedly would "steady my nerves." The liquid tasted unusually bitter, and after drinking it, my throat felt like it was on fire.

Soon after, my body began to heat abnormally, my cheeks burning, heart racing, consciousness gradually becoming blurred, vision swaying, as if being dragged into a bottomless abyss.

At that time, Nicholas appeared in the room, his eyes equally unfocused, seemingly just as disoriented. He softly called my name, and under the influence of an unknown drug, we fell into uncontrollable intimacy.

When our bodies pressed together, I smelled the faint scent of alcohol on him, felt his whole body's controlled trembling, yet was powerless to resist the pull of instinct.

These memories intensified my shame, while also making me suspect something had definitely been added to that drink. But why would my father do this? What was he plotting? Thinking of this, an indescribable fear gripped my heart, and Nicholas's condition at that time also left me confused. A sense of deep self-blame and despair welled up.

Just as I was trying to clear my thoughts, the door was suddenly flung open. My father Robert stood at the door in shock, though his expression seemed somewhat artificial.

More terrifying was the group of reporters who swarmed in behind him, cameras raised, flashes lighting up like a storm, capturing the scene of Nicholas and me naked in each other's arms, freezing it into an eternal scandal.

God, what was going on?

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