Chapter 1171

He looked down at her; his breath reeked of alcohol. Hannah, however, found it not unpleasant, but rather, special. Ralph, still drunk, stared at her with blurry eyes, softly muttering, "Annie, don't go. Don't leave me. You're the only one I have. You…" He lowered his head and kissed her firmly on the lips.

Hannah didn't resist, obediently closing her eyes and wrapping her hands around his neck. His kisses, fueled by alcohol, were both rough and tender; one moment a storm threatening to consume her, the next gentle, fearful of hurting her. She had never experienced anything like it. Ralph had been her first for everything—her first held hand, her first kiss. Now… she vaguely guessed what might follow, but she didn't want to stop; indeed, she eagerly anticipated it.

The room's temperature rose rapidly; the empty beer cans around them clattered together. She knew he was drunk, yet she didn't want to stop him. She wanted to be devoured.

After a long time, Hannah awoke, aching but joyful. This was the first time she had chosen for herself, both her body and her companion.

Turning to the sleeping man beside her, she gently traced the outline of his cheek. Her bright future, she felt, had just begun. She rose and began cleaning the mess. Finding Ralph too heavy to move to his bed, she simply wrapped him in a blanket, letting him sleep. Sleeping on the floor was nothing new; uncomfortable, yes, but sleep was still possible.

The doorbell rang just as she finished cleaning and was about to rest. Squinting, she rose and approached the door. Peering through the peephole, she saw a group of men. Hesitant, she didn't open it. She hadn't lived in this house since buying it; occasional airing-outs wouldn't attract unwanted attention.

Glancing at the still-sleeping Ralph, she decided against opening the door. But the insistent ringing persisted. Finally, it roused Ralph, who groggily called out, "Yes? Who is it?" Hannah failed to stop him.

One of the men outside responded, "Mr. Russell, we're here to pick you up."

The words sobered Ralph instantly. As he sat up, the blanket slipped, revealing his nakedness. He saw Hannah, dressed in one of his shirts, her legs bare. The night's events flooded back.

"F*ck!" he exclaimed, then stammered, "L…you…"

His mind was a chaotic mix of passion and urgency. He struggled to find words, but the doorbell continued its insistent ringing, and the man outside pressed on: "Mr. Russell, running away won't solve anything. The boss said you should be grateful it's us, not the cops. Mr. Russell, please open the door. Otherwise, you can't blame us for being impolite."