Goodbye, Mr. Regret novel Chapter 313

Jessica recoiled instinctively the moment her hand brushed against something rigid.

Timothy tightened his grip on her, refusing to let her pull away.

God only knew how much satisfaction he got from just that slight touch.

Suddenly, he released her hand. Before she could even let go of him, his strong arm slid beneath her knees.

Her body lifted off the ground, and she clung to his neck on reflex—otherwise, she would have crashed to the floor.

He was powerful; carrying her in his arms was effortless. Striding purposefully, he carried her straight toward the bedroom.

A moment later, Jessica was unceremoniously dropped onto the bed; Timothy, standing at the edge, yanked open his belt in one swift motion.

The sharp snap of the buckle echoed loudly in the quiet of the night.

Jessica scrambled upright, only to find Timothy looming over her.

Her face collided with the firm wall of his abdomen—her lips brushing, awkwardly, against—

A deep, guttural sound rumbled from his throat.

He finally lost all restraint, pushing her down onto the mattress.

Tonight.

It didn’t matter how much she fought, how desperately she tried to resist.

He wasn’t going to let her go.

He needed her.

Right now.

And this time, he was determined to conquer her completely, to make her his in every possible way.

His strong hand pressed against the back of Jessica’s head.

All reason snapped.

No amount of self-control could suppress the wild storm raging inside him.

He didn’t know it, but the drugs coursing through his system drove him on.

Jessica was nearly sobbing.

Timothy was relentless; no matter how she struggled or pleaded, he never loosened his grip.

Her voice shook with rage and fear, verging on a scream.

She couldn’t go on living.

The humiliation was worse than any disease—deadlier than the cancer that had once threatened her life.

Slowly, she rose and made her way to the living room. A gleaming fruit knife lay on the tray beside a bowl of apples. With lifeless eyes and movements like a sleepwalker, she picked it up and walked back toward the bedroom.

Timothy was still asleep on the bed.

Even now, in his quiet, unguarded state, he was strikingly handsome, his features sharp and commanding. The sculpted muscles of his torso only made him look more dangerous, more alluring, even in disarray.

His dress pants were unbuttoned, the zipper half undone.

Despite his disheveled state, he radiated a kind of dark, aristocratic allure.

Once, Jessica had admired him—he’d stood in her heart like a mountain no one could scale.

But now, that mountain had crumbled to dust.

Outside, the autumn rain hadn’t stopped all night, a relentless dirge for her shattered spirit.

Step by step, she approached the bed. She raised the knife.

The tip hovered, inch by inch, over Timothy’s chest—ready to strike.