For Isidore, this moment came too late. He had always been certain of his own feelings—interest, affection, desire, possession—each had its own clear boundary in him.
When they appeared together in one person for the first time, was there still any need for hesitation? Anyone who hesitated wouldn't be him. He never dithered when it came to action.
Taking her away on their second meeting was because he wanted her to be his. It was that simple—nothing to do with identity or status. It was about a man wanting a sweet girl. Therefore, everything he did was no different from any other man courting or wooing.
She was a naïve young girl, and under his deliberate pursuit, her flutters and elation soon surfaced, unable to be concealed. Then came a trace of vanity, a hint of playful affectation. He saw it all with perfect clarity, accepting and adoring it. He cherished her childish whims and yearned to hold her in the closest embrace.
—If she hadn't called another man's name in bed.
No matter how much he liked her, he couldn't allow himself to be mistaken for someone else at such a moment. So, without hesitation, he left, leaving her alone in her drunken dreams.
For a young girl, it was cruel—he admitted that. Yet even in his wildest dreams, he could not bear to see her wearing that sweet expression in another man's arms.
Actually, he was a very generous person—whether in business or in dealings within his circle, he never fussed over trivial matters when it wasn't necessary. So, he couldn't help but wonder why he couldn't be magnanimous in front of her. Even the smallest details made him want to fuss over them.
Even now, when he looked back, his chest tightened with suppressed rage, needing to bite her ear, gnaw at her neck to release it.
He lowered his gaze and noticed a faint bite mark on her delicate, fair neck. Reaching out, he licked it gently, whispering softly, "Relax."
The pain in her lower body surged upwards, making Eloise's scalp feel tense, and he saw a continuous stream of stars before her eyes. The sensation of dizziness left her weak, unable to muster the strength or will to control the muscles of her pelvis.
Her vagina was involuntary, as the body subconsciously tried to expel the foreign object, even if it hurt to squeeze. And, who let his dick grow so large! He had doomed her!
Tears streamed endlessly as he moved, and now she could only sob quietly. Clutching the back of the sofa, her nose had turned red. Fortunately, he only stayed there, motionless. Eloise silently thought to herself, "If he dares to move even a little, I will surely remember this as a grudge!" For a lifetime!
She spasmed a few more times. There was a muffled groan behind her, and the object that had filled her body slipped out, releasing a white, threaded fluid that ran down his inner thigh. To her surprise, she widened her eyes and turned her head, "You... how, so soon?"
Isidore's expression remained softly, his gaze hidden beneath the shadow of his lashes. With a single hand, he gripped her shoulder and pushed her back, then raised his leg to press down from above. His inner thighs were pressed tightly against hers, and the penis that had been shot once touched the vulva and became aroused again.
"The second time, not soon," he said, holding the tip of his penis and trying to push it back into her again.
Eloise was startled and her face drained of color, immediately bursting into tears. She no longer cared about fearing his identity, her earlier timidity forgotten in the face of the excruciating pain. She flailed her arms wildly and struggled with her legs: "No! Please don't come any further! I can't do this! It hurts so much! My bottom is tearing open!"
That moment had left her with a deep psychological scar. Isidore was slapped several times across the face before he caught her wrist, holding both of them together. Frowning, he coaxed her gently: "It wasn't torn apart, you were dripping a lot of water just now, which served as a lubricant, so I was able to enter fairly smoothly."
Eloise cried, her face flushing uncontrollably. "It's torn! It's torn! Wooo, you've already ripped it apart!"
He forced his voice to soften. "Really, it's fine. Look, everything's alright." He held his breath and flexed his fingers as he circled the wet and sticky entrance of Eloise. She gasped, not knowing where she had been touched. "It's right here, it hurts so much!"
Isidore swallowed hard, his voice the softest it had ever been, almost a whisper of humility: "Don't be afraid, it'll get better soon! Let me touch it, and the pain will go away." He gently stroked the spot with the pad of his finger, almost as if he were trying to appease her.
Eloise wasn't buying any of it; she cared more about how she felt. Pouting, her voice full of accusation and tears, she cried, "You bastard! After all this, you still want to mess with me! Look at what you've done to me!"
She struggled to sit up and spread her legs to show him the grim situation. There was indeed a red, hollow-looking area where the white, milky liquid had been drained away, and there was a faint smell of blood. The once-abundant liquid had dried up, and it did look quite pitiful.
Isidore sighed inwardly and used an incredibly strong willpower to suppress his desire, straightening his erect sexual organ and carrying her to the bathroom. The bathtub was filled with warm water. He held her close and sat down, slowly cleansing the filth between her legs.
Eloise felt much better under his gentle touch, but they felt a little bit of pity for the swollen penis protruding from her back. But she dared not speak it plainly, fearing he would seize the chance to take advantage.
Moreover, she thought this situation was ultimately his fault. Recalling the day she was left at the hot spring resort, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of resentment in her heart: "Hmph, who told you not to do it the last time I was drunk? It would have been less painful that way!"
Isidore fell silent for two seconds. "You don't remember at all what happened back then?"
"I remember," Eloise pouted in grievance. "You molested me... but halfway through, you disappeared into who knows where!" Afraid he might be angry, she whispered the last part. Isidore tightened his hold on her from behind, but in the end, said nothing.
Forget it, she may have been ungrateful, but at least she still remembered to ask someone about him. He wasn't magnanimous, but he wouldn't make things difficult for her. In places he didn't want to argue, he let himself go, and in doing so, let her go as well. All he needed to do was keep a closer watch in the future.
After drying her off, he carried her into the bedroom. By the bedside, the anti-inflammatory and pain-relieving medicine he had sent for was already waiting. Isidore dabbed the ointment onto his fingertips and gently applied it to her. She let out a soft gasp. Isidore frowned slightly. "Does it still hurt?"
He thought for a moment, then held her close, letting her rest against him as he lifted one of her legs. This made it convenient for him to apply the ointment with one hand while massaging her breasts and waist with the other, thus diverting her attention.
Eloise made soft, cooing noises under his touch, and Isidore couldn't help but release the rosy nipple he was sucking and kiss her lips instead, with their tongues entwining and making a intimate sound. She reached out, wrapping her arms around his neck.
"The ointment has all been washed away," he said unexpectedly. "What?" Eloise suddenly realized, and she felt another wave of wetness between her legs. On her belly, that penis was still hard, more swollen than before the bath, and it felt hot. She bit her lip and whispered, "Come in."
She thought he hadn't heard, but the next moment, she was firmly pinned beneath him.
Eloise panicked a little. "My condom's gone, do you have one?" Isidore certainly wouldn't have one. But he didn't hesitate for even a second. In a hoarse voice, he said, "If we have a child, we'll keep it. I'll take care of it." And with that, he entered her. Thus began another night of passion.
That night, they made love three times in earnest. By the end, she was so exhausted that she couldn't even remember her own name.
Isidore was cunning. He insisted on finishing with her before settling the score. By that time, Eloise's mind was too foggy to function, and she couldn't even remember what she had said later on.
All she heard was a voice speaking slowly, "Hey, stay in line from now on. Stop trying to cause trouble with Lucienne and Quintus, got it? You two aren't suited for each other." Her face was pinched.
Eloise was groggy, her eyes barely open. She thought, Who is this, trying to shake her resolve? So annoying! She waved her hand impatiently, "Why should I listen to you? Are you going to support me if I don't work?"
A surprised light chuckle came from above her head, and the voice murmured, "What nonsense are you talking about again…" Her nose was gently rubbed, "Whether you work or not, with just you, can't I afford to support you?"
The next morning, when Eloise woke up, Isidore was already gone. She put on his shirt and his boxer shorts, yawning as she went downstairs for breakfast. To her surprise, she saw someone she never expected, and she froze.
At the dining table sat Quintus, looking uncomfortable! Two black-clad bodyguards stood behind him. When he saw Eloise, he merely nodded, didn't greet her, and shifted his gaze away, his face showing some embarrassment.
From his less-than-pleasant expression, it seemed he wasn't feeling well, not just from the hangover but also because he hadn't slept well—
Last night, after getting drunk and falling asleep, he had been woken up in the middle of the night.
