With the heavy thud of the main door closing, the thick panel cut off the corridor and light from the outside world, and seemed to completely sever the last shred of hope remaining for Kaoru Hoshitani.
Rika Kawasaki, once again, in a posture that brooked no refusal, invaded this little sanctuary belonging to Kaoru Hoshitani and his girlfriend, Aina Saiten—a space they had painstakingly built, filled with ordinary warmth and love.
The narrow foyer was instantly filled by the woman’s tall, athletic physique and intense presence.
Almost at the exact moment the door clicked shut, Rika Kawasaki used her powerful arms, like steel shackles, to once again fiercely crush Kaoru Hoshitani’s slender, soft body into her embrace.
Her movements were urgent and domineering, carrying a hunger akin to recovering a lost treasure.
She lowered her head slightly, burying the high bridge of her nose deep into his soft, fluffy hair that emitted the faint fragrance of shampoo, and then took a long, deep inhale.
It was as if she wanted to suck that pure scent unique to him—which seemed to possess some fatal magic over her—along with his current panic and powerlessness, deep into her lungs to fill the inexplicable emptiness that had lingered these past few days.
Since that unpleasant parting at the villa, after Kaoru Hoshitani had left in hatred, Rika Kawasaki had rarely fallen into a predicament she was so unfamiliar with.
She didn’t know what her first words should be when seeing this little man again.
‘Apologize?’
She rarely opened her mouth for such things, and felt it wasn’t her style.
‘Explain?’
There seemed to be no starting point for that.
‘Forcefully order him to obey?’
That seemed likely to only make the hatred in those beautiful eyes burn hotter.
This trouble of ‘not knowing how to speak’ was like tiny vines, entangling her for several days.
However, just now, in the anxiety of waiting outside the door and the moment she received the countdown reply, this problem that had bothered her for so long suddenly became clear in a simple and crude way.
Since she didn’t know what to say to stop him from showing that look, she wouldn’t say anything.
She would leave everything to action, to the most primitive, direct contact and possession.
Language might bring misunderstanding and resistance, but the body’s reaction was often the more honest answer.
The body in her arms was as stiff as a piece of jade suddenly thrown into ice water; every inch of muscle was tense, revealing a silent yet immense resistance.
However, Rika Kawasaki didn’t care.
Her hot, broad palms, bearing thin calluses from years of exercise, began to follow the man’s smooth and graceful body curves, carrying an unquestionable strength as they slowly, possessively stroked up and down.
From the thin back to the slender, flexible waist, and further down… as if reconfirming and measuring this unique ‘collection’ that belonged only to her.
At the same time, her lips began to plant dense and scorching kisses, like scalding raindrops, winding their way down from the soft whorl of Kaoru Hoshitani’s hair:
Sweeping across his smooth, full forehead, lightly touching those eyelids tightly closed in fear and anger with their violently trembling lashes, sliding past his high, refined nose bridge, rubbing against his fine, slightly cool cheeks, and finally lingering on his beautifully contoured chin, reluctant to leave.
Although she failed to successfully capture those lips—which must be tightly pursed and temptingly colored right now—because Kaoru Hoshitani continued to turn his head to dodge, Rika Kawasaki didn’t seem in a rush.
She was almost obsessively immersed in this intimate ‘measurement,’ using her lips, tongue, and touch to re-trace this face she considered undoubtedly the Divinity’s most careful, most beautiful creation.
Every subtle arc, every inch of smooth skin, layered her inner restlessness and satisfaction higher and higher.
But this gentle invasion was nothing short of a punishment for Kaoru Hoshitani.
He not only had to endure Rika Kawasaki’s body temperature, which was far higher than the average person’s—roasting him like a small furnace—but also had to endure her breath constantly spraying onto his face and neck, scorching hot like magma.
That breath carried strong female hormones and an unmistakable desire, almost igniting the air around him.
It was like being in a severe winter where someone had turned the heater or air conditioner up too high in an unventilated room; right now, Kaoru Hoshitani only felt his body temperature climbing uncontrollably, waves of heat surging from deep within his skin and spreading to his limbs and bones.
His brain also seemed to start lacking oxygen due to this excessive ‘ambient temperature,’ becoming groggy, his thoughts heavy and hard to sort out like waterlogged cotton.
Perhaps he could have summoned all his remaining courage and strength, like last time, to fiercely slap this tyrannical invader.
But at this moment, the will to lift his arm was like being held down by invisible hands, leaving only a slight, futile trembling at his fingertips.
The only resistance he could offer was the weakest kind from his subconscious—turning his head away, shrinking his shoulders, his body stiff as iron.
Perhaps, deep in his subconscious, regarding this yellow-haired woman before him who was like a parasite attached to his bones—someone he couldn’t shake off no matter how he struggled—Kaoru Hoshitani had already developed a deep, near-desperate sense of powerlessness.
It was as if no matter how he hit, scolded, resisted, cried, or begged, he couldn’t truly hinder her in the slightest, couldn’t delay her process of ‘devouring’ him for even one second.
All struggles eventually felt like hitting thick, damp cotton with all his might—silently absorbed and dissolved, without even a decent echo, leaving only a suffocating softness and futility.
When Rika Kawasaki finally finished ‘tasting’ her ‘appetizer’ to her satisfaction, having branded her scent onto every part of that exquisite face, she finally raised her head.
One hand still tightly hooped his waist, while the other, with irresistible force, cupped Kaoru Hoshitani’s small chin, applying slight pressure to force him to face her.
This action completely sealed off any possibility of him dodging.
Immediately, she lowered her head and, with clear purpose, covered those lips she had coveted for so long.
Kaoru Hoshitani’s eyes widened instantly in that moment, and he immediately began to struggle more violently, even attempting to bite down hard with his teeth.
Soon, a faint taste of rust spread between their lips and teeth—Rika Kawasaki’s lip had been bitten open.
But she only paused imperceptibly, a darker gleam flashing in her gray eyes, and then kissed deeper and harder, as if that bit of pain and the smell of blood had instead aroused a deeper desire for conquest and excitement within her.
The two didn’t know how long they entangled, opposed, and silently wrestled in the narrow foyer.
It wasn’t until Rika Kawasaki was panting that she loosened her grip slightly, then scooped up the nearly exhausted, weak-legged Kaoru Hoshitani in a princess carry, walking a few steps into the small living room nearby and sitting heavily onto the fabric sofa, which was a bit crowded for Rika Kawasaki’s tall frame.
The thin blanket Aina Saiten had used last night was still draped casually over the sofa, and the air seemed to retain the warm scent of their daily life.
But right now, all of this was covered by the intense presence Rika Kawasaki brought.
Both had flushed cheeks and unstable breathing.
Rika Kawasaki’s chest rose and fell slightly, her gray eyes staring intently at the little man in her arms who seemed to have lost all strength and could only rely on her.
A strange emotion, a mix of satisfaction, longing, and a trace of ‘regaining what was lost’ that even she hadn’t clearly defined, quietly welled up in her heart.
She opened her mouth, her throat bobbing, as if she wanted to say something.
Maybe an explanation, maybe an order, or maybe something else.
But in the end, she said nothing and closed her mouth again.
She lowered her head, took Kaoru Hoshitani’s delicate, smooth, yet currently cold and trembling small hand, and placed it in her own scalding palm, stroking it over and over again, from fingertips to wrist, as if wanting to warm him with her own body temperature, and also as if conveying some indescribable emotion through this silent physical contact.
Rika Kawasaki vaguely understood in her heart that whatever she said now would likely only invite deeper disgust, fear, or fierce rebuttal from this little man.
Those words, whether tough or attempting to soften, might not bring the response she wanted to hear. Since that was the case, it was better to just ‘communicate’ with direct body language like this.
After all, in her view, the body’s reaction was often honest, far more reliable than language filled with misunderstandings and barriers.
And Kaoru Hoshitani seemed to vaguely sense a trace of awkwardly conveyed ‘apology’ or ‘softening’ from her strange silence and nearly ‘gentle’ stroking.
But this realization only made him feel a deeper chill and nausea, like seeing the hypocritical tears of a crocodile before it devoured its prey.
This twisted ‘warmth’ made him feel more irony and intolerance than direct violence.
After the brief moment of ‘warmth’ that Rika Kawasaki perceived passed, the soft body of the beauty in her arms, the smooth skin, and that fragile aura mixing panic and temptation caused the fire suppressed deep in her lower abdomen for several days to leap violently again, ready to make trouble.
Recalling the extreme experience from a few days ago that made her soul tremble—the sensation of lips and feet—she couldn’t help but extend the tip of her tongue to lick the tiny wound on her lip that had just been bitten open; the stinging pain mixed with the metallic taste of blood strangely ignited a deeper desire.
She composed herself, and with her fingers, gently tucked the wet sideburns on Kaoru Hoshitani’s forehead and cheeks, scattered by the earlier entanglement, behind his ears one by one, revealing his complete and pale face.
This action carried an abrupt meticulousness that was out of place with the current atmosphere.
As if to make her next words seem less naked and abrupt, she cleared her throat, which was a bit hoarse, and spoke, her voice a few degrees lower than usual:
“I’m taking you out for lunch today.”
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