Mr Melendez,Your Wife Wants Divorce Long ago novel Chapter 392

**Fading Into You by Iris Blake**
**Chapter 392**

His kisses were fervent and insatiable, as though he yearned to consume her entirely, to possess her very essence.

The heat of his breath brushed against Arabella’s ear, igniting a fire within her: “Arabella, give yourself to me!”

The weight of his desire was palpable, a force that enveloped them both.

He envisioned a life where she was his, where every moment was spent in her embrace.

Arabella felt a surge of panic rise within her, her voice breaking through the haze of passion: “Jayceon, you promised you wouldn’t force me!”

Jayceon, a man ruled by his cravings, was relentless in his pursuit.

If he had his way, without any barriers between them, he would keep her confined to this island, trapping her in a web of desire, and within a month, she would find herself carrying the weight of his child.

With each futile struggle she made, Jayceon responded with a more savage urgency, his kisses deepening, his breaths becoming more ragged and desperate.

His trembling hands clawed at the fabric of Arabella’s nightgown, his voice low and fervent: “You said it too, that you would never leave me!”

The atmosphere in the spacious bedroom was thick with unspoken intimacy, saturating every corner of the room.

The lingering scent of her post-shower fragrance danced in the air, a heady mix that intoxicated Jayceon, drawing him closer to her soft form, an addiction he found impossible to shake.

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**Chapter 392**

His tone was both intimate and cautious, as if he were treading on fragile ground: “Arabella, let’s have a child!”

Arabella fought against his advances, her limbs thrashing in resistance: “Jayceon, I hate you!”

The thought of bearing a child for Jayceon had crossed her mind once, but that was a fleeting thought from a time long past.

Jayceon’s movements faltered for a brief moment, his eyes darkening with a mixture of desire and desperation as he kissed the corner of her lips, whispering: “I’d rather you hate me than ignore me!”

He coaxed her between fervent kisses, his words soft yet his actions forceful: “Arabella, don’t reject me.”

In that moment, she felt utterly cornered, with no space to fight back against his overwhelming presence.

Their bodies intertwined, pressing against the plush mattress, which sank beneath their combined weight, creating a cocoon of intimacy that wrapped around them like a thick fog.

Just as despair threatened to overwhelm Arabella, she felt her hand brush against something familiar and solid.

“Jayceon!”

With a sudden surge of determination, Arabella held the object aloft for him to see, and in that instant, his frantic movements halted, shock registering on his face.

Seizing the opportunity of his stunned pause, Arabella summoned every ounce of strength and pushed him away with all her might.

“Smack!”

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The thought of the child she never had brought forth a new wave of sobs from Arabella, each cry a reminder of her loss.

“Jayceon,” she gasped between sobs, “unless death clears this debt, don’t even think about me forgiving you in this lifetime!”

Her tears flowed freely, a river of grief that mirrored the agony in Jayceon’s heart.

He, too, felt the weight of sorrow pressing down on him, the atmosphere in the room thickening to a suffocating degree; the earlier intimacy had evaporated, leaving only desolation in its wake.

Jayceon’s fingers, once so eager to explore, now gently caressed Arabella’s tear-streaked cheek, wiping away the evidence of her pain with utmost care.

His voice was thick with emotion as he urged her softly: “Don’t cry anymore. Just lie down and rest. I need to step outside for a moment.”

With tender hands, he laid her down on the bed, tucking the blanket securely around her, watching as she slowly closed her eyes, exhaustion finally claiming her.

Picking up the scattered clothes from the floor, Jayceon stumbled out of the room, each step heavy with regret.

Later that night, in the dimly lit living room on the first floor, Jayceon sat slumped against the liquor cabinet, a picture of despair.

His upper body leaned against the cabinet door, surrounded by a chaotic array of empty bottles that bore witness to his attempts to drown his sorrows.

He longed to escape, to lose himself in oblivion.

To drink until nothing remained of the pain that consumed him.

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