The hand he held slipped free with surprising ease. Her robe collar loosened, parting at the throat. Pale with shock, she clutched the opening tightly with her other hand and spoke in a rush.
“Wh-whatever you say, I’ll do it.”
“……”
“I’ll do it myself.”
Oscar’s lips twisted cruelly.
Anyone looking would think he was raping her.
“Oh, really?”
Tears gathered in her round eyes and spilled over.
“Yes.”
Why cry when nothing has happened yet?
The sight only irritated him further to do something truly outrageous.
“Sit.”
Her wet gaze searched the room before settling on the space beside him.
Oscar scoffed.
“Are you planning to sit there and have tea with me?”
“Then… where…?”
If I tell you, will you actually listen?
Without warning, he pulled her hand.
Her eyes widened. Her small body lurched forward.
She didn’t simply move closer—she collapsed into him.
Her wet hair brushed him first, then the rest of her weight followed.
Still clinging to the pathetic robe with stubborn hands, she couldn’t steady herself and ended up pressed against him awkwardly.
The moment their bodies touched, she stiffened. She tried to pull away, fumbling, but wouldn’t release the fabric.
At least she didn’t scream. That, for some reason, pleased him.
Oscar smiled languidly and took one last drag from the cigarette, then he stretched out his arm and crushed it out.
With both hands, he gripped her waist. She was light. Lighter than he expected. He lifted her body easily, high enough that her feet barely touched the floor.
Her balance faltered.
Oscar parted her knees to adjust the position with his knees to keep Seo-ah from slipping.
Her eyes shook violently.
“Spread them.”
He had wanted her to move on her own, but his patience had already thinned. He wanted to see her spread her legs herself, but more than that, his lust had reached its limit. Oscar used his right leg to spread her left leg, and his left leg to spread her right leg.
"Ah…!"
Like the key that had appeared so easily one night, everything about the woman was easy. He felt her effort to close her legs against his thighs. But it only spread the useless robe, and she lost her balance because her feet didn't touch the floor.
She swayed, barely managing to brace herself against his chest with one hand. Her weight shifted onto his chest, as if her center of gravity had shifted to that hand.
Oscar held his breath, realized he had stopped breathing.
Reason made its last stand, weakly, to intervene.
What on earth was this?
Why go such foolish this far for someone like this?
But the answer didn’t matter. The world of the naked beast had won. The part of him that had already crossed the line pushed everything else aside.
Her frightened miserable brown eyes. Her swollen trembling lips. They drowned out judgment, pushed aside all morality, ethics, and norms.
Oscar surrendered all resistance.
Desire—raw and unpleasant—pressed in from all sides. He acknowledged the overflowing lust.
He wanted to thrust in. He wanted to pull out the desire that felt like it would pierce his pants and shove it between this woman's spread legs.
Unlike the woman's hands, which were tied in their own ways, Oscar's hands were free. His hands moved to control her position. Oscar brought his hands between her widely spread legs. Not understanding what he was about to do, the woman gasped and tried to lift her hips only after his fingertips touched her most private part.
“S-Sir…!”
Oscar pressed her thigh with his other hand.
“I told you,” He said flatly, each word sharp, “if you’re going to behave like a whore, don’t hesitate halfway. Do it properly. And, if you're going to be clueless and act on your own, be careful.”
Her struggling slowed.
Then stopped at his sharp reprimand with each syllable.
The woman who had relied on silence lowered her gaze, blinked and parted her lips. But in the end, she said nothing.
At this distance, Oscar could see beyond her eyes, something inside her breaking apart desperately.
Call it pride.
Call it dignity.
Honor? Chastity?
It had nothing to do with him whatever it was.
Her trembling eyes went dull.
Empty.
Then she shut them, as though surrendering to whatever would happen.
“……”
“……”
A crooked smile tugged at Oscar’s mouth.
It was absurd. It was laughable.
After ruining the night, he had meant to drown in alcohol, she was now resigning herself like this.
“You really have a talent for ruining my mood.”
As her tightly closed eyes reopened, Oscar unceremoniously moved his fingertips. He felt the dry skin, as parched as her lips, and simultaneously heard a sharp gasp as she quickly inhaled.
Oscar looked at her while rubbing her private parts with his fingers. He stroked the smooth texture, which seemed to have almost no pubic hair, as if turning pages one by one. All his senses seemed to be concentrated in his fingertips.
His touch was slow, deliberate, as though confirming something rather than seeking pleasure. All sensation seemed to gather in his fingertips.
For a moment, it felt as if the world had narrowed to the size of the woman before him.
His senses were fixed on his fingertips. His gaze remained on her face of the woman sitting above him.
Everything else—space, time, the room itself—fell away.
She made no sound. Nor, did she cry. She didn’t tell him to stop. She simply endured. She remained still and her eyes closed once, then opened again, staring blankly at the ceiling. One hand still clutched the front of her robe, the other pressed against her chest as if to steady herself.
But just as all his senses were concentrated in his fingertips, hers were undoubtedly focused below. He could feel her breathing change with the movement of his fingers.
Oscar rubbed the groove of her parted flesh up and down, then touched her rounded sweet spot. He didn't stroke it but pressed it firmly with his thumb. When he touched it, her legs, resting on his thighs, tensed, and as he began to rub, the woman, who had been still, held her breath.
It was a very subtle change. But like a feather tickling his skin, this subtle change made his entire insides churn. Each small reaction traveled straight back to him.
The faintest tremor unsettled him more than any struggle would have.
“Annoying,” he muttered under his breath.
“With nerves like this…”
He lifted his free hand and cupped her cheek gently, turning her stubbornly face stared at the ceiling, and pulled her vacant eyes toward him.
Her eyes were unfocused.
Why was he looking into her eyes? Why wasn’t he ending this quickly? Why played with his hands instead thrusted his surging lust to satisfy it?
The fleeting thoughts that brushed past disappeared without leaving any meaning, like fragments.
Oscar brought his thumb to her tightly closed lips. He pressed and stroked the soft flesh, then finally parted her lips with his thumb and probed inside. He delved into the gaps between her teeth, brushed the moist inner lining, and then withdrew his sufficiently wet thumb. Then, using that same hand, he stroked the dry, parched area — specifically, the protruding part.
He felt a smooth texture under his fingertips. The elastic little bead sank when pressed and sprang back when not.
While doing all this, Oscar's gaze remained stubbornly fixed on her face.
A strained sound escaped her throat.
"Hh… ugh."
Like a devil who wouldn't rest until he dragged her down into the abyss.
Oscar felt the breath rising from his throat like the heat of a furnace. It was as if it had cooked his brain too, not just his throat, completely evaporating any lingering doubt, however fleeting.
Only the desire to completely devour the woman before him remained, surging and surging.
Then, isn't it enough to just devour her?
Like a devil from the abyss, Oscar devoured the woman in an instant. He detached himself from his relaxed posture and held her lower back with both hands. Kissing her lips before she could even think to escape was a raw act, devoid of any thought process.
“Hh, hup…”
Caught as if she were prey, the woman gasped for air with the kiss and exhaled clumsily. Her ragged breaths shattered in her mouth; saliva and the soft muscles intermingled. The breath interweaved with her respiration seeped into her lungs, which felt scorched.
Oscar acted like a man trying to draw out breath from the deepest part of her.
“Nn, mmmph.”
Oscar felt Seo-ah pushed his chest as she struggling for breath, exhaled raggedly. Seo-ah twisted her whole body, then pushed away his shoulders with both hands, and he heard a sob between her gasps.
An unquenched thirst scratched at the back of his neck, irritatingly so. Like a predator whose hunt had been interrupted, Oscar lowered his gaze and pulled away.
“Haa, huck, huck…”
Seo-ah’s face was completely disheveled, visible through her fallen black bangs. Her face was flushed red as she struggled to catch her breath.
She was so flustered, she didn't even seem to realize she had let go of the hem of her robe, which she had clutched as if it were her life.
Oscar gaze slid downward.
He saw her thin collarbones, protruding sharply from her slender frame, stretching from her neck to her shoulders. Oscar gaze continued to a gently curving, rounded mound. At the tip of the softly swollen mound was a pink peak, the color of her lips.
—