CHAPTER 100: CHAPTER 100: HURRY UP

Jean Ellison was tying an apron, standing at the stove, watching the bubbling soup in the pot.

The faint sounds of cartoons Jesse was watching in the living room could be heard.

Justin Holden walked in, he hadn’t changed into home clothes and was still wearing the suit from the day, though he had loosened his tie.

He leaned against the kitchen island, his gaze fell on Jean Ellison’s busy back, eyes deep and unreadable.

In the kitchen, there were only the sounds of the boiling soup pot and cartoon soundtrack from afar.

Suddenly, he spoke, his voice not loud.

"Do you want to be with Philip Paxton?"

Jean’s action of stirring the soup spoon abruptly paused.

She didn’t turn around, facing away from him, trying to keep her voice steady.

"You’ve misunderstood, there’s nothing like that."

"Misunderstood?" Justin’s voice showed no sign of joy or anger, "Simon Sterling is one, Philip Paxton is another, you seem to like quite a few people."

Jean turned around to face him, her cool face carrying the anger of being misunderstood.

"Justin Holden, what are you talking about? Doctor Sterling was just helping me with a wound, Captain Paxton is..."

She didn’t finish her words before Justin suddenly stepped forward, pulling her forcefully into his arms.

His arm clasped her waist like an iron clamp, while his other hand cupped the back of her head, forcing her to lift it, and kissed her hard.

The kiss carried a punitive meaning, rough and cold.

Jean’s eyes widened in shock, her hands instinctively pressed against his chest to push him away but couldn’t move him even a bit.

His presence was overwhelming, carrying a unique coldness that almost snatched all her breath away.

After a long time, until Jean was almost suffocated, Justin finally released her slightly, his forehead leaning against hers, breathing somewhat heavily, the hot breath sprayed onto her lips.

His gaze was unfathomable, a dark ink swirling within.

"You can make a deal with me," he stared into her eyes so close, his voice terrifyingly hoarse, "Did you make the same deal with those two others, hmm?"

Jean was shaking with anger at the insult in his words, her eyes slightly red: "Justin Holden, you’re unreasonable!"

"I’m unreasonable?" Justin let out a cold laugh, his fingers rubbed her chin forcefully, "One or two lovers, having me as well isn’t too many, right?"

His words seemed to ignite some kind of fuse.

Jean’s struggling motion suddenly stopped.

She looked at him, looked at this man she once loved, once hated, now tangled with, an overwhelming sense of grievance rising from her heart.

She suddenly stopped resisting, even slightly tipping her chin up to meet his cold gaze, her tone unexpectedly calm.

"Yes, having you isn’t too many."

Justin’s pupils shrank slightly, seemingly not expecting her to respond like that.

Jean seemed to have given up all resistance, her voice floating lightly.

"Don’t you want me? You can."

Justin stared at her, trying to find a hint of falsehood on her face, but all he saw was a silent ash.

Jean continued speaking, as if discussing something irrelevant to her.

"Second trial... you said you would help me, no problem, right?"

Justin’s Adam’s apple bobbed once, his voice even more hoarse: "...Yes."

"Then that’s good." Jean lowered her eyelids, her long lashes hiding all emotions, "Then hurry up."

Justin frowned, some kind of burning emotion surged from his dark eyes.

He lowered his head to kiss her again, this time, it wasn’t a punishment.

He held her, pinning her against the cold edge of the countertop, his kiss moved from her lips to her neck, carrying a searing warmth and wetness.

Jean passively endured, her body trembling slightly, fingers unconsciously gripping the fabric of his shirt on his back, wrinkling it deeply.

Justin breathed heavily, yanking off her apron strings, tossing it to the ground.

His hand slid under the hem of her sweater, his palm scorching, caressing the delicate skin of her waist, moving upwards...

Just as his fingertips were about to touch the edge of her underwear, Jean suddenly let out a muffled sound, as if in pain.

Justin’s movements paused, lifting his head, his gaze still filled with unextinguished desire and a hint of inquiry.

Jean turned her head to avoid his gaze, her voice slightly trembling: "Go to the room... not here..."

Justin took a deep breath, scooping her up and walking swiftly towards the master bedroom.

He kicked open the door, laying her on the broad bed. Shadows loomed over her as he leaned down to kiss her again, his fingers deftly undoing her shirt buttons.

One, two... pale skin gradually exposed to the air, forming slight shivers. Black lace lingerie wrapped around gently curving lines.

Justin’s gaze was alarmingly dark, he propped himself up, his voice rasping beyond recognition: "I’ll go get something."

He was referring to the condom.

Jean Ellison suddenly reached out and grabbed his wrist. Her hand was very cold.

Justin Holden looked down at her.

Jean didn’t look at him; her eyes stared at the ceiling, her voice so soft it was almost inaudible: "It’s okay... no need."

Justin’s body suddenly stiffened.

He looked at her, an intense wave of emotions surging in his eyes.

No need?

He leaned down again, the kiss became unprecedentedly urgent and deep, with an intensity that seemed to almost engulf her.

He unbuttoned her jeans, pulled down the zipper...

Jean closed her eyes, her body stiff as a log.

Her heart felt cold and barren.

It’s okay, anyway... she couldn’t get pregnant again.

When she gave birth to Jesse, she hemorrhaged severely, and her uterus was severely damaged. The doctor had long stated it would be difficult for her to conceive again.

With this body, what else was there to care about?

"Hurry up..."

She urged again, her voice carrying a barely perceptible plea, just wanting to quickly end this suffocating entanglement.

But Justin’s actions slowed because of her urging.

He supported himself above her, in the darkness, his eyes sharply capturing every subtle expression on her face.

It didn’t look like passion, more like... endurance.

The fervor in his eyes slightly faded, replaced by a probing look and a hint of pained displeasure.

He lowered his head, biting her earlobe with a punitive intent, his voice low and dangerous.

"Of course, I can hurry. But... can you handle it if I do?"

Jean bit her lower lip tight and didn’t speak again.

Justin looked at her submissive yet clearly resistant demeanor, the evil fire in his heart burned even stronger.

He hesitated no more and stripped away her last barrier completely...

Who knows how long passed before only the sound of heavy breathing was left in the bedroom.

"Mom!" From the direction of the children’s room came Jesse’s sleepy, muffled call, "Mom! I want to drink water!"

Jean suddenly snapped back to reality, pushing Justin away forcefully, frantically tidying her wrinkled shirt and apron.

Her cheeks were still flushed unnaturally, her eyes evasive, not daring to look at him.

Justin was also startled awake by the shout, he let go and stepped back, looking at her hurriedly tidying up with a complicated gaze, his chest heaving violently.

Jean clumsily dressed and almost stumbled as she tried to walk out.

"Wait." Justin suddenly spoke, his voice somewhat hoarse.

Jean’s footsteps paused, her back to him, body stiff.

Justin walked forward, circling to face her.

His gaze fell on the back of her shirt, the top two buttons had somehow popped open, exposing the clasp of her light-colored underwear and a small patch of smooth skin beneath.

He was silent, reaching out his hand, his fingertips inevitably touched her slightly warm back skin.

Jean shuddered sharply, but did not dodge.

Justin’s movements were somewhat stiff, but he carefully buttoned the two buttons one by one.

His fingertips were slightly cool, sliding over her spine, causing a slight shiver.

With the buttons fastened, he immediately withdrew his hand, as if that delicate touch had burned him.

"All set." His voice regained some of its usual aloofness, yet it seemed even deeper than before.

Jean didn’t turn back nor did she thank him, opened the door, and almost fled towards the children’s room in quick steps.

Justin stood alone in the center of the kitchen, the air still filled with the aroma of scrambled eggs with tomatoes, and the faint, elusive scent from her body.

He walked into the kitchen, the dish was already cold.

He slowly raised his hand, looking at his fingertips, where the touch of her skin and the cold metal of the underwear clasp seemed to linger.

Second trial.

Everything she did was using him.

He suddenly slammed a fist on the cold kitchen counter, a dull loud noise echoed, and his hand throbbed with pain.

What on earth... was he doing?