TIOAWN Chapter 9

“Say you’re wrong. Say you’re not confident. Beg if there’s another way. Just say you’ll bring your father.”

 

“If that’s what you want…If that’s what you want.”

 

Not one word would let up. The unyielding retorts paired with an innocent expression choked the long years of bitterness in his throat.

 

Stop it, Seo Ha-yoon. Don’t say another word.

 

Eyes as dark as the night sky glared sharply, almost sewing Ha-yoon’s lips shut.

 

“….”

 

The deeper Ha-yoon’s hesitation grew, the tighter Moo-geon’s grip became.

 

What are you hesitating about, Seo Ha-yoon? Damn it. Do you seriously think this is something worth agonizing over?

 

“Tell me. What value do I have?”

 

Lowered lashes slowly lifted, and her crystalline gaze locked onto Moo-geon.

 

The one who lost composure wasn’t Ha-yoon, but Moo-geon. His cynical expression collapsed, emotions he couldn’t define shadowing his face.

 

There was no way Seo Ha-yoon had any value.

 

There couldn’t be. Knowing that all too well, Moo-geon still spat out something entirely different.

 

“Shut your mouth and spread your legs.”

 

If selling her body was acceptable, then perhaps that was how he should define Seo Ha-yoon’s worth.

 

Maturely. Clearly.

 

His knee slid between hers and pressed firmly against a hidden spot.

 

“Prove it. I’m curious how much your body is worth.”

 

Vulgar. Low. As low as it could get.

 

Casually tossing one’s body around was the act Moo-geon despised the most. The common backroom negotiations and favors he loathed above all else.

 

Watching Ha-yoon merely blink at him, Moo-geon forced her legs apart with his thigh.

 

If he absolutely had to uncover Seo Ha-yoon’s value, then seeing her sob beneath him would suffice.

 

Moo-geon crudely gripped her chest with one hand, his lips crashing messily against her ear.

 

“If you hate it, run. Otherwise, you’ll have to prove your worth beneath me.”

 

Her snow-white earlobe turned crimson. The air inside her ear grew so hot that it seemed ready to melt under Moo-geon’s breath.

 

“I won’t run.”

 

He didn’t know what stubbornness drove her.

 

Maybe she had nowhere to go. Perhaps it was the habit of needing to prove her worth. Or maybe it was that subtle heat she couldn’t ignore.

 

The man pressed close to her was terrifying, as if he would devour her down to the bone. Yet, in some twisted way, that might be better. The warmth heating her body was strangely comforting.

 

Ha-yoon placed her hand atop Moo-geon’s, which gripped her shoulder. Then she drew it behind her to lower the zipper of her dress.

 

The dress slackened and slid open, leaving her shoulders exposed. The neckline, precariously perched, looked ready to slip away with the slightest nudge.

 

“What do I do now?”

 

She didn’t let go of Moo-geon’s hand, which had stripped her dress, as she spoke.

 

Her unwavering gaze awaited his response, causing his eyes to flicker.

 

Was she saying she’d do whatever he told her? That she’d already guessed what he would demand of her? Either way, she had a knack for infuriating him. Damn it.

 

Just locking eyes with her innocent pupils made his thighs tense, his body react.

 

Even when half-naked women tried to entice him during hasty business arrangements or hardened hands caressed him with practiced subtlety, he hadn’t budged. Yet his body stirred now.

 

Why was that naively pure face so provocative?

 

The searing feeling rising inside wasn’t anger but lust. Moo-geon found it absurd.

 

He should push her away. He shouldn’t fall for a child’s naive ploys.

 

He knew all of this. Damn it, he knew it better than anything.

 

“Tell me.”

 

The small hand on his shoulder—he couldn’t firmly push it away.

 

He should tell her not to behave so crudely and vilely. He should’ve grabbed her slender neck and stopped her.

 

But his gaze kept drifting to her nervous, biting lips. Her fingers twitching on his shoulder made him want to devour them.

 

The fact that Seo Ha-yoon could stir him like this was something Moo-geon couldn’t accept.

 

The uncontrollable surges of emotion overwhelmed him. The always composed expression he wore twisted.

 

Do you even realize the lives that were trampled for you to spew such words? He should’ve snapped the neck of her face, approaching so innocently.

 

Moo-geon bit his tongue hard and grabbed Ha-yoon’s neck.

 

As if mimicking him, Ha-yoon’s hands moved past his shoulders to wrap around the back of his neck.

 

The long silence felt like it was burning his throat. Ha-yoon slowly wet her lips with her tongue.

 

The unconscious motion was brash. The desires that surged ahead trampled on reason.

 

Moo-geon raked a hand roughly through his hair. His heart, charred black like a leaf burned to ashes, kept igniting anew.

 

How much would he ruin her? How thoroughly would he crush her? His bloodshot pupils overflowed with memories from fifteen years ago. His twisted lips curved into a wicked grin.

 

“Stick out only your tongue.”

 

As Ha-yoon’s crimson, plump flesh peeked out from between her lips, Moo-geon pressed his thumb against it as if he’d been waiting for this moment.

 

Her dry lips quickly became slick with her saliva.

 

Grinding his teeth on the bitter self-mockery, he trembled gently, like a sea before a storm.

 

“Mm.”

 

Ha-yoon inhaled sharply, as if saliva had pooled in her mouth, and her tongue retreated inside. Taking the opportunity, Moo-geon slid his fingers between her lips.

 

The veins on his thick hand stood out as it glided over Ha-yoon’s white thighs. Simultaneously, his tongue grazed her collarbone in a damp, languid motion.

 

Without hesitation, his hand, resting on her thigh, slid up like a snake, rubbing circles in deliberate, lingering motions as it moved inward.

 

Reaching the moist peak, Moo-geon halted, curling his index finger and scraping lightly over her undergarment. He traced the groove between the inner and outer folds, circling the peak with his thumb.

 

“Ah, mm.”

 

Overwhelmed by an unfamiliar and dizzying sensation, Ha-yoon twisted her legs.

 

“This… ahh… this is—”

 

“Yes, this. Seo Ha-yoon’s worth.”

 

As Moo-geon spoke, rubbing his face against her rounded chest, Ha-yoon shivered uncontrollably.

 

“Ugh.”

 

Moo-geon grabbed her hips firmly with both hands, then leaned forward to devour her red lips.

 

Between their tightly sealed mouths, air barely passed through.

 

As his rough hands kneaded her hips and slid from back to front, brushing her skin, Ha-yoon arched her lower body upward.

 

“Ah, mm.”

 

Pressing down with his lower body, Moo-geon encased her in his warmth, the firm tip of his arousal trapped in the humid air.

 

“Haah.”

 

When Ha-yoon tilted her head in uncertainty, their lips fused even more tightly. Her soft tongue, lost and fumbling, ventured forward, and Moo-geon captured it as if he’d been waiting.

 

Their tongues intertwined, sweeping right and left, exploring the inside of her mouth. Ha-yoon’s eyelids quivered, her breaths shallow, until he finally released her tongue.

 

At the same time, his index finger pulled aside her undergarment and lightly tapped the dampened spot.

 

Hovering at the edge, his finger rested just inside the entrance, tracing the delicate ridges within.

 

“Ah, mm, uh.”

 

Ha-yoon twisted her hips.

 

It should hurt. It should be so painful that tears would well up. That was how she understood the concept of value.

 

Yet the sensation of skin and moisture brushing against each other felt utterly foreign. When she instinctively tried to pull away, a steady, relentless pull tugged her back, leaving her vision blurry.

 

Just as when she painted under the scorching sun, her face flushed, and her scalp tingled faintly.

 

“Ha, ah.”

 

Faint sighs escaped her lips. Her parted mouth showed no sign of closing.

 

“Mm.”

 

Her lower body, powerless against his relentless touch, remained vulnerable. Ha-yoon clung tighter to Moo-geon’s shoulders, her head swaying side to side as if she were struggling to anchor herself. Meanwhile, he pressed his firm arousal against her thigh and ventured slightly deeper with his finger.

 

Wet, popping sounds echoed, as if from a deep kiss, while the entrance clasped around the invading finger, oozing moisture as it clung.

 

Damn it.

 

The unexpected stimulation made Moo-geon shut his eyes tightly, veins straining against his neck like cords. His restraint, carefully built and maintained, collapsed, leaving raw instincts and primal desires to rush forward.

 

Supporting Ha-yoon’s back with one hand, Moo-geon pushed forward, his tongue tracing her ear and slipping down to her pale nape. All the while, his finger teased the entrance, brushing the ridges, sliding up and down, before switching directions to stroke faster.

 

“Ah, mm, uh.”

 

A strange moan spilled endlessly from Ha-yoon’s lips.

 

“This is… strange.”

 

Sensations she couldn’t have imagined surged relentlessly, sharp and tingling.

 

She had thought she was only dipping her toes into the water, but she was already drenched.

 

She couldn’t fathom the end of this overwhelming sensation. Her grip on his solid shoulders tightened.

 

Moments ago, her teeth had been chattering from the cold, but now she burned. There was no in-between.

 

And she didn’t mind. Not the stimulation, the heat, nor the unfamiliar sensations.

 

The finger teasing the edge of pleasure refused to offer full release.

 

“Please, ah, mm.”

 

She wasn’t sure what she was begging for.

 

Everything was so unfamiliar, yet Ha-yoon, trembling, struggled to meet Moo-geon’s gaze.