When That Door Opens - Chapter 82
Sunlight seeped deeply into the room. Julieta woke up to the smell of coffee tickling her nose. The lace canopy surrounding the bed fluttered gently in the fresh breeze.
Burying her nose in the pillow soaked with Verne’s scent and inhaling deeply, she recalled the series of events that continued from last night into dawn.
She felt herself getting wet again.
‘I can’t do it anymore.’
Her lower body was swollen and sore. Even without looking, she knew it must be red and inflamed from the friction.
It wasn’t just the issue of the hole his large member had penetrated. Every time the blanket brushed against her e***t nip**es, her body shivered, and the nape of her neck, where he had bitten deeply, also ached.
Where had the master of the room gone, leaving her in such a disheveled state?
Julieta soon found Verne.
The sound of a fountain pen smoothly gliding over high-quality paper reached her ears. Carefully lowering her legs, she stood up by supporting herself against the wall. She draped the robe next to her over her naked body and approached Vern, who was writing in a sunny spot.
He was deeply engrossed in writing, wearing only his pants haphazardly. His arm movements caused his well-defined muscles to ripple. His bent back, propped up chin, and absorbed expression made Julieta’s heart flutter.
So focused, he didn’t notice Julieta approaching, fully absorbed in his work. It was only when Julieta placed her hand on his shoulder that his large frame flinched, and he turned to look at her.
“Not sleeping anymore?”
He, who had growled as much as she did, had a hoarse voice. Julieta reached out, leaning on the table to look at his work.
It was the scene where the heroine and hero were just meeting. Her heart fluttered at the depiction of their emotions blooming wildly, like flowers in full bloom.
“I said I couldn’t write.”
“When you weren’t here.”
Seeing you, Julieta, inspires me to write, Verne said, more desperate than a declaration of love, and wrapped his arms around her waist.
“I want to read a bit more.”
“Sure, go ahead.”
Verne never showed his work to anyone before it was finished. He believed it was a jinx that would prevent him from completing it.
But now, whether or not he finished it didn’t seem to matter.
As Julieta read his writing, Verne showered her belly with small kisses. Affectionate greetings stripped of any e****c feelings.
“I have a long way to go to catch up with you.”
Having finished reading, Julieta carefully put down the manuscript and sighed.
“What are you talking about?”
“I want to write delicate and beautiful prose like you. Words that make you empathize with the protagonist’s emotions just by reading them.”
“You’re already good enough.”
No matter how much others praised her, it was useless if she couldn’t acknowledge it herself. Julieta shook her head and sat on Verne’s lap.
“I’m still not there yet.”
“You’re not in good shape.”
Vern, whose member had been e***t since morning, frowned.
“That’s not what I mean.”
Now, Julieta could distinguish between Verne’s jokes and serious remarks. When she grabbed his high-bridged nose and shook it, Verne chuckled.
“Teach me.”
“That’s a dangerous statement.”
That one sentence had changed everything between them. It set the wheels of fate in motion.
Vern, who wrote romantic novels but never desired a romantic relationship, began to crave her. Julieta, who desired a romantic relationship but couldn’t write romantic novels, found her romance in Verne.
If the result of their first lesson was like this, then for the second lesson…
“We might end up with a family.”
Verne murmured in an excited voice.
“Oh my? Is that a proposal?”
Julieta asked, her eyes wide open. When Verne smiled, his cold demeanor transformed into a friendly one.
“What do you take me for? Don’t forget that I’m an e****c novelist.”
Verne’s pride wouldn’t allow him to mince words, and he wrapped his arms tightly around her waist, vowing to propose to her like nothing he’d ever written before.
* * *
That year, Verne and Julieta published their novels simultaneously. Their books alternated between the first and second spots in sales, competing fiercely.
The publisher’s staff, who had seen Julieta off at the train station, couldn’t stop smiling.
“Your new book is out!”
And they persistently followed her, begging for another new book.
Julieta glanced at Verne.
“They want a new book.”
“Do you feel like writing?”
“I’ll write when I feel like it.”
It was an invitation to the bed. Verne chuckled and bit her lip. Ignoring the publisher’s staff, their kiss deepened on the sofa.
Just as Julieta was about to run out of breath, Verne let her go and glared at the staff.
“Aren’t you leaving? You said you needed a new book. You need to give the author time to get inspired.”
The staff hurriedly left, and Verne buried his head under her skirt.
“Haa.”
Receiving his passionate caresses, Julieta thought,
This new book will be a success too.
The End
