Chapter 201: It’s too late for apologies.

Words : 1088 Updated : Sep 27th, 2025

Chapter 201: It’s too late for apologies. Anne gripped her fork tightly, willing herself to remain composed as heat flushed her cheeks. She could feel the smug satisfaction radiating off him. Anne’s cheeks burned with a mix of embarrassment and irritation. She worried Johnson might notice what Augustine was up to, but she wasn’t about to back down. "I don’t need anything, Johnson," she said tightly, her fingers curling around Augustine’s big toe and giving it a firm pinch. Augustine’s body stiffened instantly, a sharp gasp caught in his throat as he clenched the arms of his chair, trying to hold still. Johnson whipped his head toward Augustine, concern etched across his face. "Are you alright, sir?" "I’m fine," Augustine grunted through clenched teeth, attempting to pull his foot away, only for Anne to twist his toe tighter. A soft groan escaped Augustine as pain registered clearly now. "Are you sure?" Johnson’s gaze flicked suspiciously toward Anne. Anne masked her amusement behind a facade of concern. "He doesn’t look well at all. What’s wrong, Augustine?" she pressed, twisting his toe even more deliberately. Augustine coughed, fighting hard not to cry out. "Johnson, get him some water," Anne exclaimed, pretending to be worried. Johnson wasted no time, filling a glass and handing it over. "Are you in pain? Should I call a doctor?" Anne bit back a laugh, thoroughly enjoying how she had flipped the situation in her favor. Augustine shot Johnson a fierce glare. "Leave," he growled. Johnson’s face paled, and without questioning, he exited the room. "You!" Augustine’s eyes blazed with anger as he fixed Anne with a fierce glare, and she immediately released his toe, her heart pounding with a sudden pang of fear. "You were laughing, weren’t you?" he hissed. Anne’s eyes widened in alarm, and she shook her head quickly, trying to deny it. Augustine sprang to his feet, closing the gap between them in just a couple of strides. Before Anne could even react, he swept her up into his arms and carried her out of the sunroom. "Augustine," she breathed out, panic rising as she caught sight of the dark, intense look in his eyes. "I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m sorry." "It’s too late for apologies," he growled. "Prepare yourself for what’s coming." With that, he marched straight toward the bedroom, carrying her with an unyielding grip. In the hallway, Johnson watched the pair disappear inside, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Looks like the young people are just playing games," he murmured before turning back to his duties. The bedroom door shut with a quiet thud behind them, but the tension between them slammed louder than any sound. Anne’s heart sank as the door closed behind them with a bang. She squirmed in his arms. "What are you going to do with me?" Augustine’s hold on Anne was firm, his arms flexed with restrained need. "Scared, aren’t you?" he smirked as he carried her to the bed and set her down. "I haven’t started yet." The provocative glint in his eyes and his husky tone made her heart shudder with a mix of fear and thrill. "You think you can provoke me and walk away unscathed?" he murmured, voice low and rough as his fingers trailed up her thighs, teasing just beneath the hem of his shirt that barely covered her. "That was a bold move, my dear wife." Anne tensed as his hand slipped to her waist, dragging her closer, his body caging hers without even touching her completely. "Bold enough to get your attention," she whispered, lifting her chin defiantly. Augustine’s lips curved into a devilish smile. "You’ve had that from the start." He bent low to graze his mouth against the sensitive curve of her neck. "But now..." His teeth gently nipped her skin, sending sparks down her spine. "I’m going to remind you what happens when you challenge me." He kissed down her collarbone. His hands explored the outline of her figure beneath the oversized shirt, building heat with every brush, every caress, until Anne could hardly breathe. She could feel the ache blooming deep inside, her body arching subtly into his touch. He hovered just above her lips, his gaze fierce. "Give in," he whispered. "I know you want to." Anne’s eyes fluttered closed for a moment, her body trembling. He thought she would melt, that she would yield. But she didn’t. Instead, she slid her fingers into his hair, gently tugging his head back just enough to flip the weight of control. With a swift motion, she rolled them over, straddling him now, knees pinning his hips, his back pressed to the mattress. Augustine’s eyes widened, surprised, breathless. Anne leaned down, her hair falling like a curtain around their faces, her lips brushing his ear. "You think only you can play this game?" she whispered with sultry defiance. "Let me show you how it’s done." Her lips traced the line of his jaw, down his throat, slow and tantalizing. She kissed his shoulder, dragging her fingertips across the back, her nails feather-light. Augustine groaned, his hips involuntarily shifting beneath her. "Anne—" he breathed, strained and hoarse, his composure slipping with every second. "Shh..." she whispered, nipping his earlobe softly, then soothing with her tongue. "Just feel." His muscles tensed beneath her as her touch teased lower, driving him wild. His hands gripped the sheets, his usual dominance disarmed, tangled in the pleasure she fed him. "Now you squirm," she whispered wickedly, lips brushing his ear again. And he did—helplessly, willingly. Her touch, her voice, her defiance—it all tangled into something dangerously intoxicating. He was losing his grip, his self-control slipping with every deliberate brush of her lips, every slow stroke of her fingers down his spine. But he wasn’t the kind of man who surrendered easily. With a low, feral growl, he moved—quick, fluid, and commanding. In a blink, she was on her back, her hair fanned out across the sheets like spilled ink, his body pressed over hers, his hands trapping her wrists above her head. Her breath left her in a gasp, eyes wide with shock. "You thought I’d just let you win?" he said, voice husky with amusement and arousal. "Not a chance, sweetheart." Anne writhed beneath him, but he held her firm. "You were begging a minute ago," she said breathlessly. He leaned in, his lips brushing her jaw, then her neck, tracing fire along her skin. "And now it’s your turn to beg."

Chapter 201: It’s too late for apologies.

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