Chapter 116 Giving You Myself (Part 2)
"Did I just take you whenever I wanted?" He smirked, his eyes gleaming in the darkness. He tugged at her wet hair, pulling her back into his arms. His hot breath brushed against her face, filling the air with a palpable sense of desire as he moved closer to her lips again.
Just as he was about to kiss her, he stopped abruptly. "Answer me, do you let me have you whenever I want?"
The alcohol made his question sound even more wicked, causing her face to flush. How was she supposed to respond?
"Speak up, or I'll turn on the lights," he threatened, knowing she feared the light would reveal everything.
Her body trembled, unsure of how to reply. Such intimate words were hard for her to say.
"You like my touch, don't you?"
She realized she had been silent, her face turning red all the way to her neck. She bit her lip, too afraid to make a sound.
He was a master of seduction, driving countless women wild. No woman could escape his grasp; if he wanted them, he got them.
Except for that one woman.
He shook his head, trying not to think of Emily at this moment. He just wanted to enjoy the woman in his arms.
His kiss fell again, no longer gentle but fierce like a storm. He sucked on her lips, his tongue invading her mouth. "Alison, give yourself to me," he murmured between kisses, his voice like a heady wine that made her lose herself.
"Jack," she called out his name instinctively, as if it was the only way to ease the strange longing surging through her body.
He was like her anchor, yet he never truly gave her stability.
She was lost in her own fantasy, unwilling to wake up. Her heart was already lost, wandering between his and her tenderness, unknown to anyone. Every touch, every skin-to-skin contact, reminded her of those ninety days. From the first time he possessed her, perhaps it was destined that she could never escape his grasp. And so, there was this moment of tenderness between them. Yet happiness always seemed out of reach.
"Give yourself to me, will you?" he asked softly, his usual gentleness returning, except for that one time in the woods. In the darkness, she gazed at his silhouette, the familiarity making her almost suffocate with desire, yet also making her feel insignificant.
If only all of this wasn't a transaction, if only it had nothing to do with money, how wonderful that would be. But the reality was, she borrowed money from him, and he wanted her body. His kisses fell like raindrops, igniting every inch of her skin with passion.
He wanted her, just to dispel the hatred from over three years ago. Otherwise, that hatred would make him despise her more and more. He had intended to let her go, but because of Aimée, everything changed. Subconsciously, he even hoped she didn't want Aimée to have his child.
What kind of mindset was that? He seemed to want her eyes and heart to be filled only with him, just because she had that face. Why did she look so much like her? He asked himself countless times, memories of two completely different Emilys surfacing, and she resembled the changed Emily more.
This was their doomed fate, impossible to unravel. But what about the kids? They longed for a dad. For a moment, she really wanted to tell him she was the fake Emily from over three years ago, but then she fell into helplessness.
He had once said he didn't like kids, and the only reason he wanted to keep Aimée's child was to fulfill his mother's wish. Moreover, the news of his upcoming marriage to Aimée was already spreading like wildfire in S City. Yet, surprisingly, at this moment when he was about to become a groom, he was with her...
Her heart was filled with unspeakable sorrow, feeling like she was playing a role that made her uncomfortable. "What are you thinking about?" he asked softly, a hint of displeasure in his tone.
She snapped out of her thoughts, her hands instinctively wrapping around his neck. "Jack, what... what are you going to do?" He had threatened to turn on the lights, but instead, he walked straight to the bedroom's large bed.
How he wished to recreate every scene from that night over three years ago, but unfortunately, the woman lying beneath him now wasn't her. He recalled her back then, gentle, serene, virtuous. He liked her body, liked the meals she cooked, liked the way she tidied up the room while he read the newspaper.
However, just when he thought he had fallen in love with her again, she pushed him from heaven to hell, filling him with hatred for her. Emily, who are you really? He roared in his heart.
With a low growl, his body finally calmed down. The aftermath, the lingering feelings, made up the most vivid moment of the night. She listened to his breathing, feeling like it was all a dream.
She had once again humbly entered his life. In the darkness, he lay on top of her, not moving for a long time. She closed her eyes, trying to calm her chaotic thoughts in the silence.
He shifted, grabbing a pillow to lean on and reaching for a cigarette and lighter from the table. In the darkness, the flame flickered, and Alison quickly pulled the sheet over herself, the scar on her chest reminding her that everything with him had truly happened.
The cigarette was lit, the smell of tobacco filling the air, making them both a bit more sober. Despite the lingering effects of the alcohol, he was always aware.
He was lost in his thoughts, smoking, feeling both real and unreal. But his intuition was never wrong. In no time, he had finished three cigarettes.
Alison knew it was late. He had promised her she could leave after they were done. She wrapped the sheet around herself, slowly moving towards the edge of the bed, wondering if the clothes torn off in the living room were still wearable. But she was determined to leave.
"Where are you going?" he asked in a low voice from the darkness.
"Home."
"Heh, you really treasure those two kids, huh? One day, I want to meet them," he said suddenly, the thought crossing his mind.