Chapter 10

The soft spaces between her toes were pressed one by one. Below her ankle, it seemed as if everything there had become entirely subject to Taeheon’s control.

“It’s disgusting.”

The answer was clear and unambiguous.

One can only imagine how much Serin’s pride would have been hurt if she’d seen Taeheon’s expression at that moment. In the past, Taeheon had dismissed the leering, lustful looks directed at him with similar words—“disgusting,” “filthy.”

Such remarks made it all the more difficult for Yaein to understand her husband—a man who, even in broad daylight, mingles among people while nonchalantly whispering s*x talk into his wife’s ear, sucking and swallowing bodily fluids, and engaging in passionate lovemaking. Yet when it came to the seduction sent by someone else, to having s*x with anyone other than her, he called that dirty.

Even though she was not his.

For a moment, Taeheon’s sharp gaze swept over Yaein’s troubled expression.

“From what I can tell, you want to sleep with me too.”

Her face flushed once again.

“Didn’t you hear me when I said I don’t want to?”

“I’m good at it,” he replied coolly in an infuriatingly nonchalant tone.

“So you do enjoy making love with me.”

In front of Taeheon—whose expression never wavered—the only one mortified and desperate was Yaein. From before the marriage until now, she had always felt that way.

“You get so wet just from a slight touch when we make love. Whether I touch you or suck you, if you don’t tremble bright red with desire, then you’re lying.”

Taeheon looked up at Yaein, who could offer no reply, and continued to kiss the instep of her foot. Yaein, startled, tried to pull her foot away—but once again, she failed.

His lips traced upward along her ankle. When his teeth lightly nipped at her ankle bone, Yaein let out a tiny moan.

“Why… are you wet again?”

Taeheon, pausing on her knee after his lips had passed along her slender calf, laughed. The vibration of his laughter rippled across her skin.

“You’re an idiot,” Yaein managed to retort in a barely audible voice. They say that anyone who fails to notice is a fool—but there was something more unsaid.

“You’re a pathetic liar,” Taeheon whispered as he crumpled the edge of her skirt upward.

“Even if all I do is see you, I’ll suck you,” he continued. Lewd words clung to her ear like melted candy. Kisses kept falling relentlessly onto her knee, and the fabric of her skirt brushed against her skin, sending a ticklish sensation. Yaein shrank back.

“No… I don’t want this…”

“Do you really hate it? Then only go as far as your thighs. Where do your s*xual boundaries begin? You can’t have me jabbing you with my c*ck, nor do I get to suck on your p*ssy—that’s out. What about just touching you? And can I suck your br*asts?”

The more she felt ashamed, the more Taeheon continued to spout these words without hesitation. He was playing with Yaein—using his hands, his tongue—extremely skillfully, as always. The only time they ever got as heated as an ordinary couple was during s*x; they never really talked like that.

At one time, she had enjoyed having s*x with Taeheon because when their bare skin touched, it allowed them to ignore the distance between them. She even felt a sense of pride watching him, so constantly desirous of her.

“You’re the one who really wants to have s*x with me, aren’t you?”

Yaein, almost choking on her words, demanded it.

“Isn’t it obvious?”

Taeheon replied in a languid, almost dismissive tone, as if enchanted by her barely audible response.

She wondered silently: would you do this to any other woman if you were their husband? When did that thought ever cross her mind? Perhaps he would lust after another woman just as intensely—but not now. Even now, Yaein’s w*tness under his touch was because she loved him. It wasn’t just that he was horrifically good at s*x; no other man doing the same would make her feel this way.

A burning, vengeful heat rose from her lower abdomen. The lingering warmth pooling beneath her navel felt almost like raw s*xual desire. He was deliberately provoking her weaknesses, turning her mind into a chaotic mess—because, after all, I’m not some clueless idiot who doesn’t understand you.

“Alright. I’ll do it,”

Yaein said, letting the tension drain from her legs. Instead of desperately trying to break free from Taeheon’s hold, she pulled him toward her, and suddenly everything felt easier than before.

Taeheon settled beside her like a fish caught on a line—there was no resistance at all.

Yaein then straddled Taeheon’s thigh. His body was entirely firm, and among that, an unmistakable hardness could be felt. His c*ck—tucked to one side—was visibly *rect through his trousers.

“You’re doing something you never used to do,” he observed.

As if trying to gauge her intentions, Taeheon’s eyes burned with intensity, almost painfully so. Resolutely, Yaein unfastened the front of his suit pants. As the zipper slid down, the metallic sound rang out loudly.

Reaching into the drawers, she grabbed hold of his c*ck; the sudden rush of dry spit made its way out. Shamefully, Yaein realized that in the four years of their marriage, she had never voluntarily touched her husband’s c*ck.

“F*ck…”

A curse burst out as if she couldn’t hold it back—her own expletive spurred her on, confirming to herself that she was acting as she should.

“A refined woman such as you—how can you suddenly get so fickle? First you talk about divorce, and now you’re telling me you want to suck on your husband’s c*ck?”

Even as Taeheon growled, he did not stop Yaein. Instead, he brushed the fallen strands of her hair over her ear, his gaze never leaving her.

“I’m not exactly refined,” she retorted stubbornly. “I didn’t exactly grow up elegantly either.”

Though she replied firmly, the sheer size of his manhood—something one hand alone couldn’t fully grasp—made her feel intimidated.

Taeheon’s c*ck was hot and hideous at the same time—a dark red color with bulging veins and unbelievably thick, rigid flesh. The realization that it was always sliding in and out between her legs made her feel constricted down below.

“Fine… play with it as much as you want,”

he finally granted, though his permission fell slowly, displeasing her. Yaein glared at Taeheon. He wasn’t smiling.

In the face of his predatory, almost cannibalistic stare, her heart pounded erratically. Kwon Taeheon was a formidable opponent—she knew that if he so desired, he could tear her apart.

“Don’t you dare touch me,” she declared. “I’ll do it myself.”

Fear and desire surged within her simultaneously. Yaein cupped the head of his c*ck and cautiously began to move her hand.

Even though she had already crossed a line, she felt unsure whether she should be moving so freely. As she caressed him, her hand’s palm, rubbing against his gl*ns, gradually became slick with spit.

Taeheon gritted his teeth as if enduring pain. His eyes, so furrowed in grimace, remained fixed on Yaein.

He was no longer merely focused on the pleasure of insertion—his demeanor had changed.

“Does it feel good?”

She asked, her tone filled with genuine curiosity. Even to himself, he marveled at his own clumsy movements. His intense reaction was almost surprising.

“You really…”

Taeheon chuckled lewdly, his bulging jaw muscles rising and falling slightly.

“Isn’t it more terrifying when you do something without even knowing?”

Murmuring, Taeheon brought his head close to Yaein’s nape. The breath from his lips brushed against her skin.

“Your hand… is terribly soft.”

The words “terrible” and “soft” clashed oddly. As his deep voice resonated, embarrassingly, a slight moan escaped from below.

“Shall I touch you?”

A question that seemed to imply he knew everything brushed her earlobe. Yaein trembled slightly.

Just as she was told not to be touched, the large hand that had been sprawled across the sofa obediently squeezed the flesh of her *ss inside her skirt.

“I’ll make you feel good too,” he said, half between a growl and a seductive whisper.

Amid his panting, a subtle, crafty allure was evident. While he caressed her soft flesh and his hand crawled up her thigh, Yaein smacked it away.

Taeheon chuckled. Instead of repeatedly touching her now-sensitive thigh, his hand moved upward again.

“How about here?”

While he caressed her br*asts and whispered in her ear, he nearly let go of the hand gripping his c*ck. (She wished he could have struck it instead, but that was not to be.)

Accepting her glance, Taeheon tenderly massaged her chest so as not to hurt her. She wondered if the heightened sensitivity was perhaps due to pregnancy.

Before she could be lost in other thoughts, her chest tingled.

His long fingers softly scratched her n*pple. The n*pple, hidden beneath her bra, became *rect and prominent under his familiar caresses.

“Ah…”

Even though she bit her lip hurriedly, a sound escaped.

“It sounds good.”

“…”

“Make some noise.”

At his command-like words, Yaein bit her lip and shook her head.

When her n*pple was pinched while she was still clothed, a stifled cry escaped her. There was no time to blame Taeheon; a prickling pleasure surged through the space between her legs.

Yaein forcibly moved her hand, trying to resist being completely swept away by the pleasure he was giving her.

The sound of water echoed throughout the living room. Embarrassment rendered her ears numb.

At one point, his c*ck began writhing vividly in his grasp. The ragged breaths and the veins standing out on his neck indicated that Taeheon was nearing climax.

Yaein withdrew the hand that had been stroking his c*ck, as if setting down a palm.

Taeheon frowned in confusion. His eyes, clouded with lust, took in Yaein. A faint sense of victory swelled within him.

His c*ck, still engorged and nearly bursting—seemingly ready to spurt s*men with just a bit more stimulation—continued to ooze clear fluid.

The tingling sensation that caressed her chest was strange. Even Taeheon, who had whispered earlier that he might drive her to climax, seemed to be experiencing a similar feeling.

“I don’t want to go any further than this,” he declared.