Babel Novel
Chapter 80
Chapter 80
Sullivan towered over her, a commanding presence in the dimly lit room. He watched her delicate nose flutter, observed as she became increasingly lost in emotion. He knew his touch could unravel her, lead her to cling to his shoulders, her breaths whispering softly against his neck. It was only in these moments of sumender that her usually pale face bloomed with life, as if she was the Megan of old returning to him.
Bending down, Sullivan captured her lips in a kiss, passion threatening to overtake them both
It took three ardent sessions before Sullivan felt a semblance of relief. Both were sheathed in a fine layer of sweat as they lay entwined, their breaths mingling in the afterglow
Eventually, Megan stirred and sat up.
Sullivan tightened his grip on her waist, his voice hoarse with post–love–making huskiness, “What’s up?”
“I need to take a pill,” she explained as she ran her fingers through her long hair, which cascaded down her back. “You didn’t use a condom. I need to get the moming after pill”
Sullivan paused for a beat, taken aback.
Not having kids was a mutual decision, but hearing her speak so matter–of–factly stirred an unexpected imitation within him.
He set up. “Missing it just once doesn’t matter.”
Megan slipped into her robe. After swallowing the pill with water, she said in–her calm voice, “Better safe than sorry. Besides, you said you wanted a few more years of fun. A baby now would be
inconvenient.”
Sullivan leaned against the headboard, watching her intently.
Megan really had changed. She was composed, her emotions steady, and in her, Sullivan could see a hint of Mrs. Lambert’s poise.
After a long moment, he couldn’t resist the sarcasm, “Well, since you’ve taken the pill, we might as well go another round. You’re protected now” NôvelDrama.Org: owner of this content.
He expected her to refuse.
But Megan gently placed the glass down, approached the side of the bed, and tenderly placed her hand on his thigh. She leaned in for another kiss, even initiating touches across his body.
Sullivan’s eyes darkened with the oncoming storm,
In the next second. Megan was beneath him, her robe tossed aside without care. Her hair spread across the pristine sheets, a vision of disarray.
Her current state reminded him of that night in the Hilton suite, when she had been left in a compromising position. Initially, Megan had struggled, but it wasn’t long before she stopped resisting, lying submissive on the plush bed, surrendering to Sullivan’s desires.
This time, Sullivan truly reveled in the experience. He always preferred it a bit rougher.
That night, perhaps due to the long absence of sharing a bed, neither slept well.
Sullivan dreamed.
He dreamed that Megan had divorced him and married Begonia. Waking with a start, he reached out to find the bed empty.
“Megan!”
From the walk–in closet, he heard faint sounds and got out of bed to investigate.
Inside the closet, the light cast a warm glow.
Megan had prepared his clothes for work: a crisp white shirt, a sharp suit, and all the accessories neatly laid out, awaiting their owner.
Sullivan’s gaze fell on Megan.
She was clad in a light pink silk robe, tied at the waist to accentuate her slender figure, her hair was casually pulled up, revealing swath of delicate skin. She was selecting a watch for him.
Hearing his footsteps, Megan guessed Sullivan was up and asked softly, “How about this Audemars Piguet?”
Sullivan didn’t speak. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her from behind, his face pressing close to hers. They resembled a couple still in the honeymoon phase of marriage.
Megan allowed the embrace
Sullivan kissed the soft spot behind her ear, his voice a mix of gravel and heat, murmuring. “Mrs. Lowry, I love it when you pick out my
clothes.”
In the early morning, a man’s vitality is at its peak. With such intimate contact, Sullivan travitably destred her again. After being pursued by him for most of the previous night, Megan still felt a tender ache. Shan gently declined, “I have things to do today.
I can’t take it”