Chapter 721

Chapter 721

The agony that had wracked Janet’s body just hours ago had been entirely replaced by a rhythmic, intoxicating pleasure. In the dim, flickering light of the suite, a trace of victory and playfulness flashed through her eyes. She had won the battle of wills, and the satisfaction was sweet.

Outside, a thick morning fog clung to the city, but it couldn't stop the first persistent rays of the sun from piercing through the glass of the presidential suite.

The sounds within the room had started long before the break of dawn and had not relented until the morning was well underway. The air was thick with the low, hoarse groans of a man pushed to his limit and the constant, unmistakable melody of a woman’s release. To any outside observer, the atmosphere would have been almost unbearably stimulating; Janet’s voice, raw and unfiltered, acted as a far more potent catalyst than any aphrodisiac.

At one point, Mason had carried her into the bathroom for a cooling shower, hoping to bring some semblance of order back to the night. However, the moment they returned to the sheets, Janet had simply pushed him down again, her hunger far from satiated.

It wasn't until the sun was high enough to illuminate every corner of the room that the two were finally forced to call a truce.

At 9:00 AM, Janet finally slumped against the pillows, drifting into a heavy, well-earned nap. Mason, however, showed no signs of exhaustion. He emerged from the bathroom, dressed and composed, and pressed a lingering kiss between her brows before quietly slipping out of the suite.

Janet opened one eye as the door clicked shut. A lazy, triumphant smile tugged at her lips as she whispered to the empty room, "We actually did it." The reality of it—going to bed with the legendary Mason Lowry—finally began to sink in.

She dozed for another hour, finally waking for good at 10:00 AM. As she tried to sit up, a sharp wave of soreness radiated from her lower half. Every movement was a vivid reminder of the night's intensity.

Enduring the discomfort, she made her way to the bathroom to inspect the damage. She stopped in front of the mirror and let out a soft whistle. "Wow... that was fierce."

Her fair neck was a canvas of uneven, blooming marks. He certainly hadn't held back, but then again, neither had she. Janet clicked her tongue in mock annoyance, shaking her head as she turned to leave.

She was just about to head for her clothes when the door opened and Mason re-entered the suite. His eyes immediately locked onto hers, and he moved across the room to wrap an arm around her waist. "You're up? Are you actually able to walk around?"

Janet arched an eyebrow at his teasing tone. She knew exactly what he was implying—that he hadn't worked her hard enough if she could still stand. She let out a sharp snort and sat back down on the edge of the bed.

Mason studied her. Her lips were swollen, her cheeks were flushed a deep rose, and her complexion looked healthier than he had ever seen it. She didn't look ill, but she definitely looked like she was in a foul mood.

"Well, I did warn you not to seduce me," he murmured, cocking his head to the side with a soft chuckle. "You could have been a little more reserved, but you were beyond wild in the middle of the night."

Janet looked away, choosing to ignore him. The pot is calling the kettle black, she thought. Neither of us has the right to judge the other.

Sensing her silence, Mason assumed he had actually upset her. He reached out to pinch her cheek gently before leaning in to kiss her pinkish lips. "I'm sorry. I promise to be gentler next time, alright?"

She remained quiet, but the softening of her shoulders signaled her silent forgiveness.

Mason reached into a plastic bag he had brought in and pulled out a tube of medicated cream. Janet’s cold, indifferent facade returned instantly. "What is that?"

"Medicated cream," he replied, his voice dropping into that husky, seductive register.

He reached out to nudge her bathrobe aside. Janet’s expression froze, and she clamped her hand over his wrist, glaring at him. "What do you think you're doing?"

"It’s an anti-inflammatory," Mason explained calmly. He had noticed her condition before he left the bed earlier—she was quite swollen.

Janet’s face turned a shade of crimson that rivaled her earlier flush. She snatched the tube from him, huffing like a classic tsundere. "This is entirely your fault. You have zero self-control."

Mason laughed in sheer exasperation. "You were the one taking the initiative last night, and now I'm the one to blame?" He didn't let her take the medicine. Instead, he gently pressed her back against the pillows and began to peel the robe away, a smirk playing on his lips. "Since it's my fault, it's only right that I apply the medication for you."

Janet didn't protest further.

Mason squeezed a small bead of cool white cream onto his fair, slender finger. As the medicated cream touched the sensitive, swollen area, Janet flinched involuntarily. Her muscles tensed in a sudden spike of nerves, inadvertently trapping his finger in place.