"I knew as soon as you ca back, the Cheney Residence wouldn’t be peaceful," Sylvan Cheney was at his wit’s end with her.
"And you’re still looking down on ," Jasmine Yale grew even angrier, "Then I’m leaving. Have fun on your own, go find your Mrs. Cheney."
Having said that, Jasmine Yale really did take her cake and left.
She didn’t look back and headed to her own room on the third floor.
Chale Cheney had always been the one staying in her room, and it seed it still retained the milky fragrance of the little guy.
The room was tidied up spotlessly clean.
Jasmine Yale really didn’t know what she saw in Sylvan Cheney.
Besides being good-looking and lasting longer in bed, there really was nothing else comndable about him.
Now, so much so, that even she couldn’t afford to support him.
Mrs. Cheney, Mrs. Cheney...
If he truly beca penniless, which girl would marry him?
As Jasmine Yale ate the cake, she couldn’t help but recall the ti in Cakago when he had asked her if she would support him if he beca a pauper.
She had coaxed him then, saying she would.
But now she regretted it.
Jasmine Yale ate several mouthfuls of cake, feeling more wronged with each bite.
How much is the title of Mrs. Cheney worth, too precious to give to her? If he’s unwilling, so be it, she didn’t want it either.
Jasmine Yale sat on the bed, watching TV in a huff.
At the bedside, Chale Cheney’s little tiger plush toy was still there.
That was what she bought for the little guy.
Jasmine Yale hugged the little tiger into her arms, silently eating cake and watching TV.
Holding the little tiger felt just like holding Chale Cheney.
Suddenly, she really missed the little guy.
Suddenly, she just wanted to cuddle with the little guy and watch TV together.
alti ca, and Sylvan Cheney ca upstairs.
It was already pitch-black outside, day had turned into night in the blink of an eye.
When Sylvan Cheney entered, he saw Jasmine Yale watching so mindless soap opera, looking just like she did years ago, not changed in the slightest.
"Co down to eat."
"..." Jasmine Yale said nothing, not even giving him a glance.
"Jasmine Yale, co down to eat," Sylvan repeated firmly, his voice deep.
"I’m not eating."
"Not eating?" Sylvan Cheney raised an eyebrow.
"Not eating."
"Fine, not eating, right? If you don’t eat, you’ll sleep alone tonight."
"I’ll sleep alone then, you think I want to sleep with you?" Jasmine Yale turned away in protest, feeling sowhat indignant.
Sylvan Cheney closed the door and walked over.
Suddenly, he bent over, and his big hand deliberately slipped into her sweater.
His hand was cold, and Jasmine Yale scread, glaring at him, "What are you doing?"
It’s quite cold in winter, and his hand was so cold.
He leaned closer, his face was very close to hers, his pupils deep and his gaze intense.
"Not wanting to sleep with ? Hmm?" he said, his hand pressing harder.
"You’re taking advantage of , you’re taking my advantage," Jasmine Yale couldn’t help but hit him with a pillow, "You don’t want to give a proper status, yet you want to sleep with . Do you really think the title of Mrs. Cheney is that valuable? If you won’t give it to , I won’t stoop to want it, give it to whoever you want."
As soon as Jasmine Yale finished speaking, Sylvan Cheney grasped her head, and a kiss fell upon her.
Her lips still carried the sweet fragrance of the cake, light and faint.
While his lips were warm, the kiss was overbearing.
He sealed her words with a kiss, and Jasmine Yale couldn’t utter a single word.
In his kiss, she gradually succumbed, left only with rapid, fiery breaths.
She had no resistance to his kisses, and she shalessly hooked her arms around his neck, wanting more.
Wanting more, he gave her more.
Sylvan Cheney deepened the kiss.
Passionate and sorrowful.
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