The cloth became frail between his fingers.
Soon, Irish's whole body, except for the tie on the wrist, was naked.
She almost choked, reflexively moving to the side of the bathtub, staring at the condescending Joseph, clenching her lips, and a long time later saying, "I... won't have a baby for you."
She finally admitted it, but it was the result she knew so well, why would her heart feel sorrowful so much?
"Irish, no woman has dared to play me like this. Let you have a baby because you owe me." Joseph simply sat by the bathtub. The woman's still enchanting posture in the water stung his eyes and he squinted his eyes slightly. He reached out and pinched her chin, "You're right, you are nothing but a chess piece in my eyes, to put it bluntly," he said, "you are no different from the women who have warmed my bed. Now I need Lake's blood, and you are the best container."
The man's words were colder than the cold wind and bitter rain.
