When That Door Opens - Chapter 12
Instead of answering, Yvonne clamped her mouth shut. It was he who had hurt her, but she didn’t even want to say that.
Why should I tell you? You never tell me anything.
She brought her lips back to his, coldly twisted. Last night, he claimed to know her so well. But knowing someone’s weaknesses wasn’t just Jerome’s specialty.
Yvonne roughly pried open his mouth and thrust her tongue inside. Although he seemed slightly startled, his tongue, familiar with the act, entwined with hers. But she didn’t respond. Instead, she rubbed her tongue slowly and deeply against his, feeling every tiny bump. It was something Jerome liked.
“…..Mmmm.”
As expected, he let out a deep groan. Yvonne grabbed the nape of his neck, pulling him closer, continuing to rub her tongue against his. It was secretive and e****c, like the movement of their intertwined bodies.
Their heavy breathing escaped through their wetly locked lips, and she could feel his body tense. At that moment, Yvonne suddenly pulled her lips away and pushed his body back.
Thud!
With a heavy noise, he fell onto her bed. Just like he had done before. Slowly climbing on top of him, Yvonne looked down at him for a moment. From his lips, slick and glistening with saliva, to the area between his legs, already straining and outlined under his clothes.
“Haa, Yvonne.”
Jerome, his eyes dark with arousal, ran a hand through his disheveled blond hair and sighed.
“Tell me what’s wrong. You’re going to get hurt like this.”
But his concern only made Yvonne angrier. Don’t pretend to care about me. Instead of those words, which nearly burst from her mouth, she asked for the first and last time.
“Jerome.”
“Haa. Yes, Yvonne.”
“Is there nothing you want to tell me?”
Yvonne held her breath, waiting. Waiting for his mouth to open. For him to tell her everything. To say that he cherished her as much as she did him. But he only furrowed his brow slightly, not saying the words she hoped for. Yvonne felt something within her collapse once more.
“…That will do.”
She reached out for the bag lying at the foot of the bed, the one she had taken to the Count’s house today. Her hand emerged from the half-open bag, clutching a thick lace ribbon.
With that, Yvonne bound his wrists together. The delicate lace wrapped around his thick, sturdy arms several times, binding him tightly.
“Don’t move.”
She lifted his bound hands above his head.
“If you move, I won’t forgive you.”
Just as he had taken her at his leisure and used her, she intended to take him. In her own way, on her own terms. Jerome did not respond. Instead, he fixed his bright blue eyes on her, breathing heavily, his gaze heated with arousal.
Yvonne met his gaze unflinchingly as she removed his robe. Even though she had only removed his outer garment, she could feel the heat from his body beneath her legs intensify.
He was more aroused than ever before. His eyes were glued to her, fascinated by this new, assertive side of her.
Yvonne traced her slender fingers down his shirt, following the shape of his chest as it rose and fell rapidly.
“Uhnn.”
He let out a short, involuntary groan, his body twitching as if he were impatient. Watching him struggle to contain his heated breaths, Yvonne slowly undid the buttons of his shirt. As the last button came undone, the shirt fell open, revealing his sculpted body.
Was this how he felt? Seeing Jerome respond to her every touch, Yvonne bit her lower lip. She wanted to make him even more desperate. Overcome by a sudden urge, her hand slipped inside his pants.
“Ugh!”
The man, who was always so composed, was nowhere to be seen. The large, swollen member she grasped twitched pitifully in her hand. Without hesitation, Yvonne pulled down his trousers.
“…Yvonne.”
His voice trembled with unease as he called her name, exposed and vulnerable before her. She ignored him, her eyes fixed on his engorged, glistening member. It twitched visibly under her intense gaze.
She gripped it firmly, feeling it pulse powerfully against her palm. A low groan escaped from above as she pressed and rubbed insistently. Its size was almost too much for one hand to hold, its throbbing presence familiar—the same sensation she felt when he moved inside her, driving her to the brink of madness each time.
