Contract And Marriage

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loud noise. I was shocked, and how could I not, when I found him naked, sitting in his wheelchair! "Are you an idiot? How can y

. That's why my tongue is sharp when talking back to him. I'm not scared of him, except for firing me, which I

my room, so I will do what I want t

nock

ted for me to let yo

replied. "Or tonight, when everyone is asleep," I continued while cleaning the broken utensils. I refused to look at his masculinity because it looked so hard, and I w

you dress me up first instead of cleaning the floor?" I roll my eyes, what if that's

hes by yourself; why don't you g

w him his clothes that were lying on the bed to shut him up. I c

e and quickly continued cleaning. I concentrate on the floor in fear that I might just grab his dick and start singing, using it as my mic. H

e he could see? Oh, I don't know, I shouldn't care about that because except for balling my fist in front of him, side eyes, and sticking out my t

t these broken things, or do you want

ng at me without blinking. I shook my head

ht. I should do that first; I think that's safer. He didn't say a word, so I got him another pair of clothes. The one I thr

th but also because of his elegance and handsomeness. Add to that his great masculinity, a

like any other ordinary girl who gets carried away by his sexy and hot bo

ready in a relationship, he was often seen with different women before his

ccident. Oh crap, it was all that perverted Maximus' fault; why would I care thinking about him and his girlfriend anyway? He should

his grandma told him to. He probably doesn't want to live anymore. He loves her, so why must he be with different women? Maximus is handsome, and many women still ogl

o his bedroom. I even saw some maids talking but didn't pay much a

ll in his wheelchair and had his back to me when I entered. I pulled the rolling table he us

, but still, nothing on his bottom, and the shirt I used

was handing me. I couldn't help but look at his face and then at his T-shirt. "What are

an't help but use your hand?" I exclaimed. "Besides, what will

, wear it,"

ned looking at him, and I couldn't stop rubbi

took his t-shirt to end the conversation, threw it in the trash, and washed my hands afterward. "My shorts!" he shouted when I exited his bathroo

d that every time I saw him staring at me, he looked like he could

en when he called me. I looked at him, and again, he looked at me a