Revenge amnesia upgraded to his brother novel Chapter 132

**The Goodbye That Never Reached You and My Life Chasing 132**

**Chapter 132**

**Norah’s POV**

A sudden tension seized my entire being, rendering me utterly still.

Finished.

It was a sensation that transcended mere thought, a primal instinct that gripped me from within, tightening every muscle around him in a desperate, almost frantic embrace.

“Fuck,” Lucien groaned, his voice muffled and strained against my skin. He was taken completely off guard by the sudden, overwhelming pressure that enveloped him.

I could see the veins in his neck swell as I felt him grow even larger inside me, stretching me to a point that bordered on exquisite pain.

His hand clamped over my mouth, silencing any sound that might dare escape.

Then, with a force that felt almost reckless, his hips surged forward, launching a final, desperate assault.

His thrusts were relentless. Rapid. Deep. Punishing.

There was no semblance of control left. The dual onslaught of raw, heart-pounding tension and the all-consuming, gut-wrenching pleasure shattered the last remnants of my composure.

My body writhed violently beneath him, caught in the throes of an overwhelming wave of sensation.

A strangled whimper escaped my throat, tears pooling at the corners of my eyes. Almost simultaneously, he plunged deep into my core.

A searing heat erupted, flooding my trembling walls, triggering a climax so powerful that my vision faded to white.

“Right here! This backdrop is perfect, Ms. Veyron!” The photographer’s voice burst through the air, obnoxiously cheerful, echoing from just beyond the thin barrier of leaves.

Panic locked my limbs in place. I dared not move a muscle. I bit down hard on Lucien’s palm, stifling any sound that threatened to escape.

And Lucien… he remained deeply embedded within me.

He held me firmly, his chin resting against my shoulder, his ragged breaths warm and heavy against my ear.

His fiancée was mere feet away.

The shame of it coiled tightly in my stomach, yet a dark, thrilling excitement coursed through my veins. Let her look. Let her witness what she can never truly possess.

“Ms. Veyron, look right here. Yes, perfect. Now, imagine your beloved is watching you right now,” the photographer cooed.

Amélie’s voice was sickeningly sweet. “Right, Luen? Are you watching me?”

As her words hung in the air, Lucien shifted inside me, a subtle, deliberate flex that sent shivers down my spine.

My heart raced, pounding against my ribs, and my body instinctively clenched around him once more in a helpless spasm.

Lucien’s breath hitched, a barely audible sound that sent a thrill through me.

He lowered his head, biting gently into my shoulder—not enough to break the skin, but enough to sting deliciously. “Stop clenching, you little minx,” he rasped, his voice a raw, intimate whisper that only I could hear. “Do that again, and I’ll fuck you right here again, consequences be damned.”

I froze, my body going rigid.

Outside, the photoshoot continued, a relentless droning of clicks and rustling fabric. Amélie’s fake, tinkling laughter echoed, each second stretching into an eternity of exquisite torture.

Time lost all meaning. It felt like hours passed before the sweet relief finally came.

“That’s a wrap! We’re done here!”

I heard the murmurs of departing voices, Amélie’s footsteps fading away on the gravel path.

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