Announcement Rising from the Ashes (Andrew) has updated Chapter 749 with many amazing and unexpected details. In fluent writing, in simple but sincere text, sometimes the calm romance of the author Internet in Chapter 749 takes us to a new horizon. Let's read the Chapter 749 Rising from the Ashes (Andrew) series here. Search keys: Rising from the Ashes (Andrew) Chapter 749
Andrew paused for a moment, surprised that she was not ready—not because of hesitation, but because of the location.
With a light chuckle, he gave Francesca's soft bottom a playful pat. "Don't move. We'll be home soon."
He shifted gears, released the brakes, and stepped on the gas. The G-Wagon roared to life, speeding toward the Moonlit Sanctuary estate at the top of the hill.
Francesca's lips curled into a satisfied yet bashful smile. With a mischievous glint in her eyes, she leaned forward and bit Andrew's chest playfully. "You big pervert! You jerk!"
However, deep down, she was already scheming. 'Lauren, you better not blame me for this. You're the one who told me to take good care of Andrew first. Hehe… once your little purity mark is out of the way, the two of us will make sure Andrew completely surrenders!'
And so, that night, the master bedroom of Moonlit Sanctuary's hilltop estate was anything but quiet.
Francesca, at first nervous, soon found herself completely immersed—until eventually, she was left begging for mercy, tears welling in her eyes.
The next morning, glistening dewdrops clung to the trees outside the window. Judging by the drenched branches, the storm had raged all night, only subsiding at dawn.
Inside, the scene was no different—only here, the storm had been far more intense. The air still carried the lingering warmth of last night's passion. Clothes were scattered across the floor, evidence of the battle that had taken place.
Francesca slowly opened her sleepy, exhausted eyes. The soreness in her limbs made it almost impossible to move. She turned to the mirror, her face flushing as she examined herself.
There were marks—on her front, on her back—deep red traces of last night's relentless conquest.
Each mark, each little "souvenir," was proof of how thoroughly she had been broken down—only to be pieced back together again.
"That bastard… he didn't leave a single spot untouched!" Francesca bit her lip and let out a soft, frustrated hum.
Comments
The readers' comments on the novel: Rising from the Ashes (Andrew)