9
Although I had expected that showering with him might lead to something more, I had not anticipated this—an embrace from behind.
When had my husband ever shown this side of himself?
Gentle, even though he did not love me.
Despite my pounding heart, I could not help but wonder if his actions stemmed from some lingering effect of last night’s mysterious fragrance or from something else he ate.
His lips brushed against the back of my shoulder.
“Are you scared?”
I shook my head, his single arm around me anchoring me in place, while his other hand began exploring my chest.
Just a light touch was enough to make the tip of my chest respond instinctively.
“You said we’d shower together,”
I muttered, my chest wavering as I tried to address him without meeting his gaze.
“We can do other things at the same time, can’t we?”
he murmured, his deep voice brushing against my ear.
His hand moved from my waist to undo the towel, and I gasped as his warm palm enclosed me, unprepared for the intimate touch.
“Mr.—ah, Mr. Toop.”
The more my voice faltered as I called his name, the more deliberately his hand seemed to move rhythmically over me.
A long-forgotten thought about my body crossed my mind briefly—the fine, sparse hair that adorned me and made me wonder if something was wrong.
My thing was not small, but the hair around it was too light.
Without a good look, one might think it did not exist at all.
I went to a doctor to find a way to make the hair more prominent, but instead, the doctor explained my condition, revealing that I was capable of conceiving.
My parents were so shocked they almost fainted.
It was not so bad though, they remained supportive and understanding, transforming my confusion into a source of warmth and acceptance.
Now, under the warm shower, I was burning as Toop’s hands worked their magic on my chest.
Unlike last night, there was no external trigger this time.
His touches alternated between firm and gentle, his lips grazing the nape of my neck sending tremors all over me.
His hand roamed my chest, squeezing as if it were something soft and pliant.
Suddenly, I was startled by the presence of something pressing against me from behind.
“Ah.”
I thought I heard him laugh softly at my moan, a reaction against his warm member, but he did not rush.
Instead, he guided us both with measured movements, his firm length sliding teasingly between my thighs without entering as his hand moved in the same rhythm.
The intimacy of his actions overwhelmed me, and soon I released into his hand.
Then, he used his slickened fingers to press gently against me from behind.
With trembling legs, I stumbled forward, only for him to follow, his chest against my back.
I rested my forehead against the shower wall, feeling the warmth of his lips trailing over my back as water streamed down around us.
My knees were weak, and I shivered from the intensity of the moment as his finger moved in and out of my rectum, igniting waves of spasm and twisting inside that made my face burn.
“Don’t tense up, Anshan.
Relax.”
“Ugh, but—”
Though we had done this just last night, I was not used to it, even if I had been susceptive and easily aroused by his touches.
There had been the influence of the fragrance then, but now everything was deliberate, purposeful, and controlled without anything clouding our minds.
Yet, beneath his gentleness, my nerves refused to settle.
I was scared of what would come after.
Would he revert to being who he was this morning after the pleasure?
I could not bear to feel that way again.
“Anshan.”
I turned slightly, glancing at the owner of the husky voice who had called my name.
Water from the shower streamed over his hair, tracing along his sharp, handsome features before dripping down onto my cheek.
Blinking away the droplets, I panted, unable to relax.
The tension in my body left both of us strained, but we had already shared our first kiss.
“Kiss me- kiss me again, Mr. Toop.”
If I asked for it again, hoping to feel a little better, he would give it to me, right?
“You’re so spoiled, Anshan.”
I nodded obediently to his scolding. New chapters come out on g.com first.
I closed my eyes and waited for the touch from the man who was seemingly lecturing me while leaning closer to me, his fingers still working within me.
The kiss—still as good as before.
Wrapping my arms around his neck, I adjusted slightly to find the perfect angle for our lips to meet.
Gradually, I relaxed, my focus shifting entirely to the kiss and the warmth of his breath mingling with mine.
As I loosened up, the tightness in my body began to ease, and Toop took the opportunity to continue preparing me.
Before long, our kiss deepened, turning fervent as he carefully pressed himself forward.
Slowly, he filled me and then thrust to the hilt.
“Is this better than last night?”
he asked, his voice low and raspy.
Though unsure if I understood his question correctly, I nodded.
Yes, it was better—by far the best we had ever had.
This time, there was no external influence, only clear minds and deliberate movements as we shared this moment together.
“Ah, Mr. Toop.”
“Maybe the baby will come because of this.”
“You—ah!”
I cried out, heat surging through my body.
My husband, who had always made me feel like I was dreaming, suddenly lifted my other leg, holding me like a small monkey.
But not content with that, he flashed a mischievous smile and pushed his still rigid length inside me, making me gasp softly from the pressure.
Instinctively, I clung to him and slapped his back.
“Quick to get your revenge, aren’t you?”
he teased, his smile making my heart race uncontrollably as I glared at him.
“I can do a lot more to get even with you.”
His bare shoulders trembled slightly in amusement at my response, his roguish grin still firmly in place.
“Let’s see if you can match your husband.”
“What are you—ah, Mr. Toop!”
As always, I had tried to voice my retort.
No sooner had he spoken than he drove himself into me at its full size.
What followed was over an hour of heated passion in the shower stall.
Even after my voice had grown hoarse and I was begging him to stop, he carried on until his second release filled me completely, even spilling out.
He was not rough or selfish.
From never kissing me even once, he now seemed insistent, kissing me again as I drifted in and out of consciousness.
Afterward, he took over the practical matters, ensuring I was thoroughly washed, as I no longer had the strength to stand.
Exhausted, I leaned heavily on his shoulder under the stream of the shower.
A brief nap later, I managed to wake up to prepare dinner.
That evening, as I sat outside enjoying the evening breeze under colorful lights I had not noticed where its switch was before.
I sneezed repeatedly.
My nose burned, and my eyes ached.
Wrapped in a shawl, I felt chills alternating with heat coursing through my body.
I was not sure if it was because of being thrown into the water or the heated activities in the shower stall.
“Hatchoo.”
My head swam with dizziness, and all I wanted was to collapse into bed and rest.
But it was still early, and I wanted to sit in the breeze a little longer, savoring the sound of the waves.
“When are you coming in?”
His voice interrupted my reverie.
He had been in the kitchen for an unusually long time, doing who knows what.
“I still want to stay here,”
I replied, not looking back at him.
If only his tone and demeanor could remain as tender as they had been earlier, when he carried me to bed after our intimacy that would be great.
But no—this was Mr. Toop.
Mr. Toop Pasutha, an actor whose on-screen persona was all gentlemanly charm.
And yet, I still clung to the hope that he might love me, even just a little.
Sighing at my thoughts, I sneezed again.
“Stubborn.”
“You—”
I spun around, ready to retort.
“What’s- that you made?”
But my words faltered when I saw the ceramic mug in his hand.
“If you’re curious, drink it,”
he said curtly, placing the mug on the table when I hesitated to take it.
“T-thank you,”
I stammered, finally regaining enough composure to murmur my thanks.
Tentatively, I lifted the mug by its handle and sniffed its contents.
The aroma of warm ginger wafted up, immediately recognizable.
“Do they have ginger powder here?”
I muttered, peeking toward the kitchen shelves.
I vaguely remembered spotting a packet of ginger powder when I had searched for something to eat the day before.
Had he been gone for so long just to find it and make this for me?
He did say I should ask if I wanted to, then I-
“What?”
he asked sharply, from the chair he was sitting on the other side of a round table that stood between us.
“Did you make this for me?”
He paused briefly, cleared his throat, and gave his answer.
“If you drink it, then yes.”
“Such a dramatic answer.”
He seemed ready to retort, but I quickly sipped the warm ginger tea, which made me feel noticeably better.
“And what about yours?”
Since he had come to sit here with me, it would not feel right to let the only sound be the crashing of the waves.
“It’s taken care of.
You, however, should finish drinking so you can head inside.”
“Husband, are you worried about me?”
“Anshan—!”
It might have been a slip of the tongue, but since we started living together, I had only called him that mentally, but never actually called aloud before.
Yet here we were, on this island for almost two nights now, and he had called me wife several times.
How many times had I called him husband anyway?
It was clear he was flustered by it.
“When you call me wife, I don’t complain.”
I sipped my ginger tea nonchalantly, half expecting him to blow up at me.
But just as I had thought earlier, if I had the choice, I would want us to stay on this island for a while longer.
It felt like a separate world where we could break down the barriers between us.
But would things remain like this once we returned to the real world?
He let out a faint snort through his nose.
“And what’s with all these lights?”
He gestured toward the multicolored string lights.
I pointed into the house.
“There’s a switch inside.
Aren’t they pretty?
This island now has the lights you were asking for.”
“Does this look like the same kind of lights I wanted?”
Feigning indifference, I sipped the ginger tea, I could not help but smile.
It felt like a dream to be sitting and talking together like this.
“Hatchoo.”
“Are you alright?”
“I’m just a little stuffed up.
Hah—hatchoo!”
“An.”
My head started to throb, but I was too preoccupied with rubbing my nose, afraid there was something stuck in it, to respond to him.
“Mr. Toop, I think I should—”
better head inside, but I did not get to finish the sentence.
I looked up and saw him standing right in front of me, just like that day.
“Stay still.”
His tone was firm, his gaze sharp.
He did not exert much force as his hand settled on my shoulder to stop me from moving, but what truly set my heart racing was the other hand he used to feel my forehead.
“You’ve got a fever.”
I looked at him in confusion before pressing my own palm against my forehead to check.
“You’re right.”
No wonder he called me a fool—I really was clueless.
“I’ll head inside. Thank you again for the ginger tea.”
Toop nodded as I stood up from the chair, but suddenly the entire island seemed to spin.
“Anshan!”