Before she entered the book, Eloise's mother often said she looked silly, but in reality, she was quite clever. She would stubbornly retort, "Where do you see me being foolish?"
At least up until now, she had never suffered any great losses, and often found herself unexpectedly reaping small sweet rewards. Sometimes, it appeared as though she was yielding and compromising, yet in truth, it was a choice made after careful consideration, one that ultimately favored her more—this was an instinctive trait of Eloise in her dealings with others.
In plain terms, it could be called cowardice; in more elegant terms, it might be called knowing when to yield.
For instance, when unsure of how to navigate a life outside the plot, it was better to follow the original storyline and play the villainess, rather than being forced into a loveless arranged marriage.
Another example: the previous issue with the bed was not a big deal, but angering Isidore or continuing to drag it out could lead to far greater problems. In such a situation, she would rather comply with his wishes to prevent the problem from escalating.
A little compromise, in exchange for a relatively safer outcome for her—what could be wrong with that?
The only problem was, she was now facing Isidore, someone who was accustomed to taking advantage of every inch he was given. Or rather, his passion for her was so intense that it became somewhat frightening. A slight concession was enough to provoke him to charge forward with great determination, forcing her into a corner of the sofa, soft and pliable as mud.
After being firmly pressed for a while, Eloise's eyes filled with tears, a thin, misty layer that made them look red and swollen, like a little rabbit. Isidore, standing just inches from her, also had his eyes reddened all around, though his was the crimson of desire.
Her breath, warm and rapid, swept across his neck, too hurried and heated, quickly condensing into mist. As it dripped down with the motion of his Adam's apple, it might have mingled with sweat. When he tilted his head to meet her neck, it grazed her skin once more.
"Oh, could you...could you please be a bit gentler? It's so wet!" Did she have to get all sticky again?
Isidore furrowed his brows slightly, his handsome face a mix of pleasure and pain. Tilting his neck back, he let out a muffled groan. With a sigh, the tension in his shoulders and back momentarily eased. The cock jerked twice inside her pussy, but didn't cum.
He took two deep breaths, steadying himself, his firm and flat chest rising and falling. In that brief moment of calm, he took a gentler approach, cupping her small face, which was puffed up in displeasure. For once, he showed a rare expression of regret, his voice softening as he tried to soothe her.
"Next time, we'll explore the way you like, but for now, let me have my way, alright?" He called out softly—"Darling."
Eloise trembled, her body and heart shuddering, but her first instinct was to ask, why should she? Just as she opened her mouth to protest with a soft, "Mmm, mmm," he pulled her into his embrace, pressing her firmly against his chest, his voice calling her "my darling" several times, right by her ear. They went back to their aggressive and intense play again.
How... how outrageous!
He thrust his penis in, liked a pestle pounding medicine, squirting out white fluid and leaving it sticking to her pubic hair liked soap suds. Eloise was invisible at first, but after changing her position, she folded herself up, and her own entrance was clearly visible right under her nose.
The clean place was left in a mess, with thick and thin liquids all over the place. Such a thick penis, it was pulled out just barely visible at the tip and the skin folds below, then slid in with a sudden jerk, the color fading from dark to light, and it was swallowed whole by her.
As it ate, she was left with a thick, dark patch of hair that clung stubbornly to her tender skin, rubbing lasciviously against it for a moment or two.
This process was repeated, and for the first time, Eloise saw their private parts being joined with a man in such a clear way, and realized so clearly that they were being penetrated by him.
After this realization, her head exploded with a loud noise, and she couldn't tell if it was a feeling of shame or an overwhelmingly intense sensation that caused an unusual physical reaction. She contracted her muscles all over her body, heating up and getting hot, including the passageway of her vagina, which suddenly clenched tightly and grabbed hold of the penis inside.
"Mm!" The reaction on Isidore's handsome face was irresistibly sensual, yet Eloise refused to admit it. He let out a soft hiss and then gently squeezed her soft breasts, rubbing them for a moment before speaking. "Darling, you're amazing."
A smile curled at the corner of his lips, one that expressed approval rather than a plea for her to relax, which irked Eloise slightly. And he still wouldn't release himself. Her waist, strained from arching upward, ached with discomfort. She irritably asked, "How much longer are you going to keep this up?"
Isidore's gaze was always bright, like a lamp in the dark of night, quietly watching her. He did not answer, remaining silent. Suddenly, he leaned down, his lips brushing the corner of her mouth, whispering like a soft murmur, "Eloise, I miss you."
He sighed, "It's been almost two months since we last met. Truly, you don't miss me at all?"
Before she could fully grasp the deeper meaning in his words, Eloise's breath faltered for a moment. She quickly reminded herself that a man's words in bed could never be taken seriously, especially someone like Isidore, who was deeply thoughtful and accustomed to being in control.
Such a person had only an unchanging essence, with no fixed face. To achieve his goals, he could show affection or anger, seem to love or hate, wield both kindness and authority. How could she ever hope to play such a game with him?
Had she forgotten? To sever any possibility between her and Quintus, he had deliberately made her surrender on their first night together. While she was immersed in pleasure and caresses, he was calculating. Horrible.
How could she possibly trust herself to someone who could completely control her? If he were just Isel, perhaps it would be possible, but he was Isidore. A one-night affair or a few nights of passion meant nothing; they could never talk about a future. She saw it clearly.
