Mr. Hawthorne, Your Wife Wants a Divorce Again-Chapter 983: Cry Slowly Later
"Boo-hoo, I’m afraid you’ll see my face and have nightmares at night." Ann Vaughn retracted her hand, covering her face, and said in a breakdown.
Cyrus Hawthorne’s face instantly turned dark.
Not giving her a chance to burst into tears, he clasped her wrist, turned over easily, and occupied the upper position, his narrow eyes deeply gazing at her pitiful appearance.
"Save your strength, you can cry slowly later."
"???
The night breeze blew in from the window, stirring the light curtain, bringing in a trace of coolness, which was quickly swallowed by the rising heat. 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝘦𝓌𝑒𝑏𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝘭.𝒸𝘰𝑚
The wall lamp glowed warm and soft, spreading across the princess bed like a layer of light gauze,
...
The next morning.
Eli Sheridan had stayed with Little Dumpling all night on the 8th. Upon returning and seeing the servant still standing in front of Ann Vaughn’s door, he asked:
"Did Annie leave the room last night??"
"No, Mr. Sheridan. Miss should have gone to bed early and never came out after that." The servant answered truthfully.
Eli Sheridan nodded slightly, "Thank you for your hard work, you can go back and rest."
The servant agreed and left downstairs.
Looking at the time, it was already seven-thirty. Eli Sheridan pondered for two seconds, stepped forward, and knocked on Ann Vaughn’s door, "Annie, are you awake?"
No response came from inside, she should still be sleeping.
Ann Vaughn always had a habit of sleeping in; Eli Sheridan wasn’t suspicious and left after a while.
Inside the room.
Ann Vaughn seemed to hear a knock on the door in her daze, but her eyelids felt glued shut, unable to open, with a slight throb at the back of her head.
She lazily turned over, wanting to continue sleeping, but the soreness in her waist brought her painfully back to her senses.
"It hurts, it hurts..." Ann Vaughn furrowed her brows tightly, feeling as if her whole body had been run over, sore and weak, and any slight movement was uncomfortable.
It was as if she had been doing the splits all night.
She frowned and endured, just about to get up, when Cyrus Hawthorne pulled her back into his embrace, his warm hand covering her waist, kneading it gently.
Ann Vaughn was momentarily stunned, hearing a deep, hoarse voice above her head, "Didn’t you say you were tired? Sleep a bit more."
Tired?
Upon hearing the word, Ann Vaughn’s body instinctively shivered.
The vivid and fragrant memories from last night flooded her mind, making the back of her head tingle, with the blush spreading from her little face to her slender white neck.
For the post-amnesiac Ann Vaughn, this was her first time with Cyrus Hawthorne, naturally making her feel shy.
She buried her head into his shoulder, letting out a low "whimper."
Cyrus Hawthorne slowly opened his eyes, carrying a hint of morning laziness, his long fingers gently stroking her soft long hair, "What’s wrong?"
Ann Vaughn dared not lift her head to look at him, nor answer him, shrinking herself in hopes Cyrus Hawthorne wouldn’t see her.
Cyrus Hawthorne lowered his eyes, noticing the earlobes hidden under her dark hair were crimson, as if a gentle pinch would draw blood, a hint of interest blooming in his gaze.
"Weren’t you bold last night, saying you would ruin me?" He asked with a chuckle, his tone leisurely, "Why so shy now?"
"..."
"Are you going to suffocate yourself?"
"..."
No matter what he said, Ann Vaughn ignored him, as if it could lessen the shame in her heart.
She reached out to push him away, trying to get off the bed despite her soreness.
Before her feet could touch the ground, she felt a tightness in her waist, being pressed back onto the bed by Cyrus Hawthorne, his long fingers intertwining with hers.
Ann Vaughn heard him chuckle huskily as he approached, the warmth on her neck stirring her heart to beat wildly.
"The effects of the medicine are gone, what more do you want?" Unable to hold back any longer, Ann Vaughn shyly dodged aside.
But how could Cyrus Hawthorne let her go?
To describe a morning-woken beast, insatiable after tasting the marrow, could not be more apt.
Soon Ann Vaughn was forced to the edge of the bed, with nowhere to retreat, devoured again.
Room soaked in pleasure and silence, Cyrus Hawthorne carried the sleepy Ann Vaughn into the bathroom.
Last night, Ann Vaughn had caught a slight chill in the ice water, but she sweated during the exercise and was coaxed by Cyrus to take medicine before sleep.
This morning, apart from feeling a little heavy, she didn’t get sick.
After another round of sweating just now, although still sore, her head no longer throbbed.
Once cleaned, Cyrus Hawthorne wrapped her in a towel, carrying her out of the bathroom.
Glancing at the mirror by chance, Ann Vaughn’s sleepiness vanished instantly.
"Wait!" She sat up, incredulously staring at her reflection.
Where were those dreadful red marks on her face?
Her skin, as tender as a fresh lychee, white and soft, cheeks glowing with a shy red like fine jade, without a flaw.
Ann Vaughn almost cried tears of joy, "Boo-hoo-hoo, my precious little face, Mommy missed you so much!"
Saying this, Ann Vaughn was about to kiss her reflection in the mirror.
But she missed, as Cyrus Hawthorne pulled her back into his arms, kissing her pouting lips.
Ann Vaughn, caught off guard, lightly punched his chest, "You saw it and didn’t tell me!"
Cyrus Hawthorne raised his eyebrow slightly, "What’s the difference?"
It was all her, after all.
Ann Vaughn’s eyes widened, realizing only as he carried her out of the bath to dress, a smile playing on her lips.
What luck she had.
Though her face had been accidentally ruined, she got the chance to see James Vaughn’s feelings for her, which wasn’t so bad.
He didn’t care if she was pretty or ugly, he only cared about her as a person.
That’s all.
Ann Vaughn glanced up at Cyrus Hawthorne, wondering why, having already done more intimate things earlier.
But now, watching him lower his eyes, seriously drying her damp hair, her heart still thumped uncontrollably.
