To My First Love, With Regret - 77

If Ethan Fairchild were a man soft enough to let the woman who ruined him taste pure pleasure, he never would have started this revenge in the first place.

—Hng!

But when the path to the womb is littered with landmines of sensitivity, there is no way to avoid stepping on them. As soon as he thrust past the threshold, burying himself deep enough for the broad ridge of his glans to scrape the sensitive, swollen curve of her interior, the hair on the back of Ethan’s neck stood on end. At the same moment, Eve’s head snapped back. Her legs, straining to keep her upright against the table, shook precariously.

—Ngh, ah….

Her pale, thin hands white-knuckled the edge of the table. Simultaneously, her internal walls—hot and trembling—clamped down as if trying to shear the very sensation from him. It was a moment where Ethan, too, felt his control teeter on the edge.

—Haah….

Even as she resisted, trying to push him out, her slick interior became a snare, entangling his member with relentless persistence. The passage, already a tight fit, seemed to close shut entirely, becoming an impenetrable wall.

—Damn it, you’re as tight as the first day.

The moment the words left his mouth, he felt an indescribable surge of foul temper.

—Does that second husband of yours have a cock the size of a mouse’s tail?

How should I know? I’ve never slept with him.

Eve didn’t bother to clear up his misunderstanding. It wasn’t just because she couldn’t open her mouth for fear a moan would escape.

Yes, drown in that loathsome jealousy—deeper, even deeper. Only when you are blinded by that vile emotion will I be able to kill my useless enemy without owing a dangerous debt to a gang leader.

—I know it’s been a while since you’ve had something this size, so relax.

As if to make her feel exactly how trapped he was, he ground himself into her without withdrawing. Even the slightest roll of his hips sent a jolt of sharp electricity through Eve’s entire body.

She had told herself she was prepared for this, but the sensation of him striking the exact center of her weakness was far more powerful than any resolve. Along with the pleasure, buried memories began to stir. She was already terrified of the onslaught that had only just begun.

But I can’t run.

Eve desperately suppressed her heart, which was racing as if trying to flee this self-mutilating act of intimacy. She drew a slow, deep breath.

—Hoo, ngh!

Every time her interior yielded for a fleeting second, Ethan lunged into the opening without miss. It was mechanical, as if his body remembered the rhythm even if his mind didn’t.

Why is he so skilled? How many women has he slept with since he left me?

—Ha-ugh!

The organ that had pierced through her churning depths finally slammed into the very end of her path. The selfish man, knowing only his own pleasure, didn’t wait for her tremors to subside. He gave her no room to breathe, driving his hips forward relentlessly.

—Haah, damn it….

While she loathed the way he acted like a beast obsessed with release, a part of her was almost grateful he wasn’t trying to linger or savor it.

Eve was in just as much of a hurry.

The floorboards creaked under the violence of his thrusts. Just a single thin layer of wood away, the guests in the ballroom below would be carrying on with their sophisticated party—oblivious to the fact that their hostess was being taken by one of them.

—Ah-hmp, ngh, mmph….

—Wait, this is the spot, isn’t it?

Thud, thud, thud, thud.

Ethan’s rough laughter mixed with the sound of slamming flesh.

—The place we planned to fuck, right over the heads of your oblivious father and brother.

Ethan, too, was looking at the same fragmented memory as Eve. He gripped both her buttocks with his massive hands, yanking her back as he thrust himself even more savagely into the soft gap between them. Even while panting like an animal, he managed a biting sneer.

—The Duke, and the Baron. I hope they’re both, haah, resting in peace. Though, ngh….

—Ha-ahhh….

—If they saw the Princess happily taking the enemy’s cock, they’d probably kick their coffin lids right open.

Perhaps he found it dull that he could no longer retaliate against the dead. He sought to drag the living into the audience of this humiliating play.

—A wife fucking a stranger right over her husband’s head. Fitting.

The moment he thought of Eve’s husband, Ethan spat out a curse and drove into her with even more ferocity.

—Ah-ugh!

—Should we do it right in front of him next time?

Jealousy is fine, but don’t you dare aim at me. You have no right to harm me.

Eve turned his sights toward the correct target.

—Is a threesome more your style?

—…What?

The question was asked with such genuine bewilderment that Ethan’s hips missed a beat.

—Owen seemed into it.

At that single sentence, the rhythmic thrusting that had been crushing Eve ground to a sudden, absolute halt, as if its very breath had been snatched away. Inside her, Ethan’s body remained scalding hot, yet he was frozen solid.

Had he actually stopped breathing? Only after a heavy silence did he finally speak.

—So….

It was only then that Eve felt it—the visceral realization that Ethan Fairchild was no longer the rebellious honor student she once knew, but a hardened gang leader. The labored panting that had filled the air just moments ago vanished, replaced by a voice so calm it felt lethal, heavy with a murderous edge.

—Lady Evelyn is saying… she has experience sleeping with two men at once….

The muzzle of his jealousy was turning back toward Eve once more.

—Hardly. It wasn’t my taste.

A ragged sigh poured over the back of her head. The relief mixed into that breath was loathsome. Of course, his breathing was still sharp with a rage he hadn’t quite managed to dull.

—If it’s not your taste either, then I’ll tell him to just watch quietly. Oh, but it’s fine if Owen enjoys himself while we’re at it, right? That man has a thing for getting excited while his woman is being taken from him.

Eve wanted to see the reaction of the man hearing this, but she didn’t turn around. The mere thought of facing her own vulgar state—offering her body to a beast in heat—was horrifying enough. She didn’t need to look to know exactly what expression he was wearing.

Ethan would never reveal this affair to that pervert, let alone show him. Owen must never know. No, no one could know about this transaction.

—That fucking freak… Ha, goddamn it….

As expected, he took the bait. Now then—when would Ethan Fairchild kill Owen Kallas? Eve’s next plan for assassination depended entirely on that timing.

While Eve coolly ran the numbers in her head, Ethan lost his grip on reality, consumed by peak fury and jealousy. He was finally seized by the very imagination he had been fighting so hard to repel: the image of another man—that gloomy deviant—putting his filthy cock inside Eve’s womb, a place that had been nothing short of a sanctuary to Ethan, and ravaging her at will.

How dare he.

—Ha….

As quickly as his murderous intent sharpened toward the other man, Ethan mocked himself.

‘How dare he’? This woman isn’t mine anymore. I’m just a loser who got kicked out of here.

The sight of himself—crawling back in after being discarded, begging for the door to be opened—was pathetically groveling. He wanted to pull out right this second, but his revenge held him fast. Ethan managed his rage only by grinding his own flesh against the vaginal walls that clung to him so cursedly, as if he were scraping away and erasing every trace of another man from her.

—Ah, ha-ah, ah-ugh….

This selfish woman, having thrown him into the abyss once again, was lost in her own pleasure, venting increasingly frantic moans.

—Haa, ah, just… a little more….

Did she cry like this under Owen Kallas, too? He could now vividly imagine Eve willingly spreading her legs for that gloomy freak, moaning in ecstasy while receiving his pathetic thrusts.

Damn it, damn it, damn it.

Finally, the threads of Ethan’s reason snapped. He narrowed the distance between their bodies, which he had been stubbornly keeping apart except for where they were joined. His chest, heaving to its limit, pressed flat against Eve’s back.

—Ah, hmp….

He firmly clamped his palm over the mouth that was shamelessly venting those moans again. Once the sound of her pleasure stopped, the disgusting imagination stopped with it.

—Haah….

Only then did his broken reason stitch itself back together, if only for a moment.

Goddamn it.

Every time Ethan drove his hips down, Eve vented a shallow breath into his hand. It was as hot as the breath that used to scatter against his lips ten years ago, when they would huddle together with their foreheads pressed close.

Damn it, damn it.

Burying his face in the crook of Eve’s neck while gritting out curses was a fatal mistake. The scent of her heated skin flooded his airway. The lover he had once cherished was no longer of this world, yet her fragrance remained exactly as it was during the days he was intoxicated by love.

He hated this woman whose feelings had changed while everything else remained the same—hated her enough to crush his own heart—but it was nothing compared to the hatred he felt for himself.

Damn it, damn it, damn it.

What was driving Ethan truly mad now was the fact that he hadn’t forgotten a single sensation of making love to Eve.