"Beg me?" Marlon Marshall laughed smugly. "If you want this over with quickly, then hurry up. Stop stalling. If you want your husband to walk in on us, then by all means, keep putting on this little act."
Jean Grant gritted her teeth. "Fine! I'll cooperate, alright?"
He pulled out of her and held himself to her lips. "Hurry up. Otherwise, I'm not responsible for what happens if your husband sees this."
Gritting her teeth, Jean Grant had no choice but to submit.
It was over in three minutes. Marlon Marshall, likely not wanting to get caught and beaten again, quickly pulled up his pants. He took over a hundred thousand in cash from Jean Grant's purse, undid her handcuffs, and left the same way he'd entered.
When Nicholas Ainsworth came in, Jean Grant was combing her hair.
"Hurry up, it's about time."
Jean Grant nodded.
She followed him to go toast the guests.
