Deputy President King spoke earnestly, occasionally bursting into laughter.
Oliver Johnson clenched his phone tighter, his long fingers distinct and pronounced.
"President Johnson, if there’s nothing else, I’ll hang up now." Two seconds later, Oliver Johnson heard the sound of the call ending.
Annoyed, he tossed his phone to his assistant and began walking toward his office.
Sophie Smith stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, hands tucked into the pockets of her wool coat, watching the snowflakes cascade down.
These past few days, she’s been exceptionally peaceful, as if her mind had an automatic filter that screened out all the unwanted thoughts and bad memories she didn’t want to confront.
A pair of large hands wrapped around her waist at some point, and without turning, she knew who was behind her.
"Why are you home so early today?" It was his earliest return in nearly a week, arriving before sunset. Normally, he returned late, often not until two in the morning.
"I’ve managed to clean up most of the mess you left me, so I came home early to ’celebrate’ a bit." He said with a particular emphasis.
She knew full well what mess he was referring to; with Oliver Johnson, she had created quite a trouble for him, and solving half of it so quickly was no small feat.
"Asher Land, ..." She didn’t know what to say to him for a moment.
"Aren’t you curious about how I plan to celebrate?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Hmm?" Sophie was somewhat puzzled; she truly believed that at this moment, Asher Land should be furious with her, not joking around.
"Why aren’t you speaking? Do you think this isn’t something worth celebrating?"
"No." She was happy that he had managed to handle it, reducing her guilt to some extent.
"How do you want to celebrate?" She raised her head, looking at him seriously.
He said nothing, just kissed her firmly.
His large hands reached inside her clothing, kneading softly.
A muffled moan escaped her lips, her eyes closed, savoring the skilled caresses.
He placed her on the bed, expertly removing her clothes.
Sophie knew she couldn’t let things happen as they did this time; no matter what, she needed to consider the child growing inside her.
She pressed down on his hand and sat up.
"What’s wrong? Not willing?" He let go of her; if she was unwilling, he wouldn’t force her.
But his eyes showed an unmistakable disappointment.
Sophie shook her head, and without hesitation, her small hands unbuckled his belt.
"What are you doing?" Asher Land was a bit confused.
"I’m not feeling too well today, but I can still help you out." She lowered her head, her face blushing deep red.
"Sophie, you..." Asher Land’s body stiffened slightly. What did she mean by saying she could help him out? Thɪs chapter is updatᴇd by n͟o͟v͟e͟l͟f͟i͟r͟e͟.net
She knew his body must be uncomfortable right now. Without hesitating much, her cool lips moved over him, making it difficult to swallow.
"You..." He let out a long, comfortable sigh. He hadn’t expected her to do such a thing for him.
"Sophie, don’t force yourself if you don’t want to." Despite his feelings, there was still a trace of rationality left in his heart, even though he felt as if he were living in another euphoric world from which he didn’t want to come back.
She didn’t answer him, his hand clutching tightly to the white bedsheet, his breath slightly labored.
For the first time, her heart was resolute; she was his woman, so she was willing to do such things for him.