Chapter 60 You'll Beg Me
Soon, the car entered Mountain View Park.
This spot offered the best view of the sunrise, a place they'd frequented in the past. However, the park was closed to the public at night except for special viewing events.
Francis's car possessed an S-Class Pass, allowing them unhindered access.
He parked on top of a hill, then carried Harper onto the hood of the car, his hands bracing on either side of her. "Remember this?" he asked.
Harper's face flushed. On their first anniversary, her gift to him was making love three times right here. What was he implying by bringing her here now?
Lost in thought, she didn't notice Francis pinning her down onto the cold, hard metal of the hood. She tried to push him away, but he held her down firmly.
His lips traveled from her forehead down to her nose, then her neck—marking every inch, claiming her without restraint.
After what felt like an eternity, he looked up, his handsome eyes ablaze with a ruthless desire.
"If you have needs, I can fulfill them. There's no need to seek others," he said, leaning in to nip at her earlobe, his implication clear. "Who else understands you like I do? Your preferences, the positions you like—only I know that."
Harper's expression changed instantly, realizing his intent to humiliate her.
Anger and embarrassment laced her voice, "Francis, I don't want it. You can't force me!"
Francis's lips quirked into a sardonic smile, his eyes shadowy and obscure. "You'll beg me."
With that, he took her into the back seat and pressed a button. The moonroof slid open, and the seats moved forward, creating a spacious area. Harper felt as if they were exposed in a field.
Her slender waist was in his firm grasp, and Francis's gaze was predatory. Like a wolf starved for too long, his every move reeked determination.
Harper's heart raced in panic. Clutching her blouse tightly, her voice trembled, "Francis, don't do this, I can't. I'm not feeling well, I..."
She was on the verge of spilling her fear.
Suddenly, a cell phone buzzed to life.
The screen, flashing the name 'Keith,' fell to the floor, causing Francis to mask his irritation.
With a cold smirk, he remarked, "I'm going to make you comfortable."
Lifting her skirt, he placed the phone by her feet and hit the answer button.
As the call connected, Harper's muffled sounds of restraint escaped her, barely audible over her bitten lip.
Keith's concern was evident through the phone. Having just bandaged himself, worry for Harper had prompted the call. "Harper? Are you okay?"
His voice, amplified by the silent night, reached her, revealing Francis's brazen acceptance of the call.
Harper's face contorted, struggling to push him away, only to prompt a more shameless assault.
Unable to contain herself, she made a noise that, through the phone, sounded like a sob.
Keith's anxiety heightened. "Harper, what's wrong? Is he hurting you?"
A derisive snort escaped Francis, echoing slightly.
"My dear wife, am I bullying you?" he teased.
Harper's brow furrowed, and her fingers clenched.
With a cruel smirk, Francis continued, "Just relax..."
Their conversation was suggestive. Anyone could grasp the deplorable context. A busy signal suddenly filled the air from the other end.
A smug satisfaction appeared on Francis's face as he gazed down at Harper, who was trying hard to endure his tease. His voice was husky as he asked, "Do you want it?"
Harper's face was pale with overwhelming shame. Her voice trembled as she replied, "Francis, you're insane."
"Don't... do this."
Her plea emerged disjointed, her voice shaking.
"Don't want me to take care of you?" he asked, frowning.
Dressed impeccably, he could have been ready for an international conference.
Harper felt like she was losing her mind, biting her lip until a bead of blood appeared.
...
After adjusting her skirt, Francis carried her to the passenger seat.
Harper sat like a soulless doll, her features void of any expression.
It wasn't until he slid back into the driver's seat and began meticulously wiping his hands with a wet wipe that she turned pale, twisting her gaze away to look out the window.
Her damp hair clung to her cheeks. Francis reached out to brush them aside, only to see Harper recoil in panic, her eyes wide with mistrust, "What are you doing?"
His face froze for a moment, "Still angry? I thought giving you a high was enough of an apology."
Then, he added, "Have you ever thought about how I feel? I'm still sick, and you know suppressing the desire isn't good for anyone's health. But I've managed, haven't I?"
He had meant to keep going, but she was crying so intensely. He knew they were tears of joy, but he couldn't bear it, fearing she might pass out.
"You... have no shame! There's nothing going on between Senior and me. Why would you let him hear that over the phone?"
At her accusation, Francis just scoffed coldly.
"He calls you in the middle of the night, and I shouldn't answer? Is it because you'd rather chat with him when I'm not around? Harper, do you even remember that you're my wife? You keep picking fights with me over this guy, and the only reason I haven't lost it is that I'm trying to do a good deed."
Harper didn't want to argue anymore. It was becoming ridiculous.
Francis was always careless. Even knowing Chloe wanted to be Mrs. Getty, he openly showed affection for her in front of Harper. He would console and embrace Chloe, often leaving Harper aside for Chloe's sake.
And yet, Harper couldn't even let a normal friend care for her.
This kind of double standards was beyond her capacity to criticize.
Too weary to speak, she simply stated, "I want to go back to Clearwater Bay."
Francis initially wanted to refuse, but seeing her state, he quietly drove down to Clearwater Bay.
He opened the car door, instinctively reaching to hold her, but she pushed him away in disgust.
"Don't touch me."
Francis's face darkened, his anger bubbling up uncontrollably.
Just because of that phone call, she was reacting like this, as if she was ashamed for anyone to know they were together!
His brows twisted in mockery, "When I touched you earlier, you didn't seem to mind."
At the memory, Harper's eyes flared red with rage, "You're despicable!"
'Chloe was right. To Francis, I'm only a means of release.’
'He had said it himself. He's addicted to my body
'My reactions gave him a sense of conquest.'
The more she hated it, the more infuriated Francis became. He bit back sarcastically, "If I weren't despicable, how could I please you?"
Harper's face turned pale, her lips trembling. She refused to speak.
Through a sneer, Francis continued, "Or is it that you actually felt something when he kissed you? Wanting to switch things up?"
Harper was once again wrongfully accused, yet she had explained it countless times.
Had he ever listened?
He always had his preconceptions, never heeding her side of the story.
At this point, she was beyond caring what he thought.
With icy composure, she said, "Francis, don't project your own revulsion onto others, okay?"
Enraged, Francis's temples bulged with veins as he seized her chin, hissing, "Seems like I've been too lenient with you. I should've just dealt with you earlier, regardless of your tears!"
Harper's cheeks flushed from his grip, and she retorted with a mocking sneer, "Is that all you've got, Francis? Threatening to force a woman?"
Her words struck a nerve, and his face darkened with fury.
He gritted his teeth and growled, "Say that again."
Log in with Google Account
Chapters
Favorite
Settings
