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Chapter 30
Chapter 30
Megan’s mind snapped into focus, her resistance flaring up. How could she just give in?
She planted her hands on his chest, shaking her head from side to side, dodging his kisses, her voice a sultry blend of womenly maturity. “Sullivan, we can’t keep doing this.”
But Sullivan was past the point of restmint. He claimed her lips, his tone bold and unapologetic. “Why not? Mrs. Lowry, we’re still lawfully wed.”
Megan was caught in his embrace
He had been frustrated all of last night, and now he had no intention of letting her slip away..
Her silk nightgown was hiked up, his hands reveling in the softness of her skin. Sullivan drank in her warmth, his gaze intently fixed on her, watching as she melted into his touch.
It’s a common vice in men: the more a woman pleads, the more a man wants to dominate
Sullivan was no exception.
Lifting her up against him, his eyes locked on hers, he taunted with a lascivious whisper, “Your mouth says no, but your body tells the truth, Mrs. Lowry. You should see yourself… utterly slutty!”
Megan’s temper flared. When she spoke, her voice was a husky rebuke, “You’re no saint yourself!”
Sullivan leaned in to kiss her again.
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In the dim light, his handsome face was charged with desire. Sullivan, in his prime, with vigor and wealth to his name, had no shortage of young women pining for him. But none knew how he was behind closed doors.
Always dominant!
A semi–coerced affair was never pleasant, and Megan was unreceptive.
Amid their struggle, a knock sounded at the door.
The hesitation in the servant’s voice was evident, subdued, “Sir, your mother–in–law called. She’s asking if Madam is here… What should I say?
Inside the room, the commotion ceased.
Megan pushed Sullivan away, tidying her sweat–dampened hair, and called out, “Tell her Ill be right there.”
The servant acknowledged. Footsteps receded into the distance.
Megan quietly straightened her clothes and, after a moment, asked with a mix of embarrassment and annoyance, “Where are my clothes from yesterday?”
“They’re gone. Things got pretty heated last night, Sullivan replied nonchalantly, reclining on the sofa. He didn’t bother to fix his half–undohe trousers as he reached for his cigarette pack and lighter, placing a cigarette between his fingers.
His eyes stayed on Megan. After a pause, he sneered mockingly. “There are clothes in the wardrobe, aren’t there? Or is it that you no longer wish to be Mrs. Lowry so much that you can’t even bear to touch the clothes? Yet just now, beneath me, you seemed to quite enjoy it.”
Megan had no patience for his vulgarity. She went to the walk–in closet, picked out the most nondescript outfit she could find, grabbed her phone, and made for the door
But Sullivan rose to follow her “Il drive you!”
Megan declined coldly, “We’re getting divorced. Why bother with such courtesies? Sullivan, let’s consider last night a mistake. It won’t happen again.”
As she spoke, her wrist was caught in his firm grasp.
Clearly, Sullivan wasn’t in a good mood. He said nothing, just pulled her down the stairs..
In the hallway, the servants were busy, not daring to glance up, pretending to be absorbed in their chores. This text is property of Nô/velD/rama.Org.
Megan was practically thrown into the car, and Sullivan followed, slamming the door with a force that would have bothered her once. But now, she just leaned back in her seat, pondering whether he was frustrated or had been given a hard time by Cressida.
The thought of that woman filled Medan with a sense of constriction.
Her palm was enveloped by his, and Sullivan’s voice softly broke the silence, “What are you thinking about?”