Fated love: the unwanted bride

Sylvan Cheney’s throat moved as he pinned her shoulders down, pressing her against the passenger seat!

All his desires were stirred up, like grass in the spring breeze, spreading uncontrollably.

He pressed her down, a kiss accurately landing on her lips. Her body still carried the scent from that time, mixed with the smell of red wine, yet the deepest part continued to attract him.

His mouth had a faint taste of tobacco.

The moment he kissed, Jasmine Yale was bewildered.

The medication seemed to have gotten a ripening agent, spreading wantonly.

This kiss from Sylvan Cheney, touched Jasmine Yale’s nerves.

The little bit of consciousness she had was still there, only a brief stunned moment; quickly, her fingers began scratching Sylvan Cheney’s arm.

Forcefully, and even more forcefully.

Sylvan Cheney felt no pain, just that she was like a cat, somewhat impatient.

He straightforwardly grasped her hand.

"Hmm..." Jasmine Yale whimpered, struggling, "Get away... get away..."

The man in front of her and Navy Caddel had no fundamental difference, she didn’t want him to touch her, not at all.

Her subconscious was full of the scenes of him with Erin Janus in bed, definitely like how he was with her now...

She didn’t like it.

Even disliked it.

He stopped his movements, no longer moving, instead purposely looking at her, gazing at her already flushed face.

In the darkness, he curved his lips: "Don’t want?"

"No...want..."

"Is it ’don’t want’, or ’want’, hmm? Jasmine Yale, tell me, which is honest, your mouth or your body?" Sylvan Cheney’s gaze fell on her undulating body.

"Get lost..." She used all her strength, panting desperately.

"Heh." He made no further movements, seemingly having no intention of wanting her, "I’ll take you to the hospital."

After speaking, he stood up and left the passenger seat.

He walked to the driver’s seat and fastened her seatbelt.

The air inside the car remained ambiguous; Sylvan Cheney wasn’t faring well either, unable to divert his attention to dissipate his thoughts.

The car drove out of the parking lot.

In the passenger seat, Jasmine Yale was dazed, knowing Sylvan Cheney wouldn’t touch her again; only then did she breathe a sigh of relief, her eyes sometimes closing and sometimes opening, filled with a watery tenderness, warm and affectionate.

Yet the medication’s effects were becoming unbearable.

Uncomfortable, endlessly uncomfortable...

Her thoughts suddenly jumped to the time last year at the Cheney Residence.

Those days, after their reunion she and he were inseparable, except during her period, every night he wanted her, at least once, sometimes several times, like newlywed couples, tirelessly.

Jasmine Yale held her head, the scenes in her mind were somewhat amorous.

Those images flickered, mingled... mostly of her and Sylvan Cheney together, entwined passionately, and he, loved to torment her forcefully until she begged for mercy.

That’s how they had Little Clementine.

During that time, it was shamelessly, wanting it, anywhere was possible.

Jasmine Yale’s throat was somewhat dry.

"Hmm..." She painfully furrowed her brows, gripping the seatbelt tightly.

Too uncomfortable, so uncomfortable she almost tore the seatbelt off.

She sat uneasily in the passenger seat, more than uneasy, it felt like thousands of ants were crawling inside her body.

The rain outside continued to fall, it was the early hours, almost no pedestrians on the streets, only vehicles driving through the rain screen.

The windshield wipers kept sweeping, but soon the rain covered the windows again.

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