Eloise was utterly speechless. How could anyone be this shameless! She had used all her strength, yet he was still able to laugh? The stark contrast in his attitude was infuriating!
She gritted her teeth, silently cursing his frivolity. It made her feel weak, as though no matter what she did, she could never truly get the better of him.
With an unwillingness to admit defeat, she held her breath, gathered her strength, and squeezed once more.
Isidore let out a soft "hmm," his tall body arching like a shrimp. His forehead rested against her shoulder, and all she could see was the top of his head and the back of his neck. Though his expression was hidden, she could sense something different from the intermittent groans that escaped his nose.
Eloise tried to hear pain and suffering from it, but the sound seemed like tangible feathers drilling into her ear, where pain was present but not dominant. The sensation at the end was less about discomfort and more about sheer unbearable intensity.
Eloise couldn't help but wonder: Was he enjoying all of this?
After adapting to the initial sharp tension in his shoulders and back, Isidore breathed in slowly, his chest rising and falling with each heavy breath.
His face was so close that with the slightest movement of his lips, they could almost touch Eloise's. A faint, elusive smile lingered on his lips, and deep within his eyes hid the surging desire, which, in her view, seemed like a provocation.
The force with which he moved was merciless—though to Isidore, it wasn't much. He knew very well that Eloise was venting her frustration in secret. But the more she resisted, the more his mischievous side took over, and he couldn't help but tease her.
In bed, for both men and women, it was an intense battle without smoke of gunpowder. And sometimes, men could be quite shameless.
Thus, he deliberately spoke those words, intending to provoke the stubborn and innocent young lady. In her ear, Eloise caught some heavy breaths and words: "A little harder isn't bad... it hurts, but it feels really good..."
As the teasing went on, his voice gradually lowered, soft as if sharing a secret: "Including the last time you kicked me... Should we find another opportunity and try something else?"
Eloise flinched, her shoulders drawing in as if her ears sought to escape those words. Dizzy and head spinning, she vaguely formed a thought: no matter how much force she used, it would never truly make him suffer.
And leaving him, in his aroused state, hanging by the side—now that was the real way to make him suffer! She had figured it out!
Isidore propped up his upper body, his brows slightly furrowed, his gaze carrying a hint of questioning dissatisfaction. "Why don't you continue?" Eloise silently cursed in her heart: Hmph, so thick-skinned! Her clear gaze bypassed his shoulder and stared directly at the ceiling, her lips pouting. "I don't want to be with you anymore."
Isidore's gaze darkened. "Go on."
"No."
"Go on!"
"No!" Eloise silently swore to herself. If he were to anger her and resort to forceful, violent measures to compel her, then she would... she would... follow through. But once it was done tonight, she would never speak to him again!
Isidore did not force her. She knew he had many ways to do so. But he only leaned closer, gazing at her flushed face, and with undeniable certainty, asked, "What are you being stubborn about?"
Eloise bit her lip, meeting his gaze, and said, word by word, "Unless you beg me."
Isidore squinted. "What?"
She took a breath, her voice clearer, "Unless you beg me!" Isidore's face showed no emotion for five seconds, then he curled his lips and patted her soft cheek. "You've learned something."
At this point, even though Eloise's heart wavered, there was no trace of yielding in her round, sparkling eyes. Isidore stared at her for a long moment, then flipped over and lay beside her on the bed, silent.
His compromise had its limits; he was, after all, a very proud person.
In the silent air, Eloise increasingly felt the urge to not be in the same space with him. She turned, slipped on her slippers by the bed, and walked towards the bedroom door. Isidore easily grabbed her arm. "Where are you going?"
She struggled a little. "To the bathroom, to wash my hands."
Isidore saw through her excuse. "Isn't there a bathroom right in the room?"
Eloise, filled with frustration, said, "I'm hungry. I'll make something to eat." Isidore loosened his grip and said, "Make me something as well, and add a fried egg." Eloise turned around and glared at him angrily. He sneered and said, "I've served you all night, and I'm still hungry." His words carried a double meaning.
After Eloise left, Isidore stared at the ceiling, lost in thought. Suddenly, his chest tightened with a sense of loneliness. He sighed, got up, and went downstairs.
Following the sound, he could easily find the kitchen. Eloise made such a commotion just boiling water, clearly not skilled in cooking. He walked over slowly, making no sound.
There was a constantly lit lamp in the corridor leading to the kitchen. The light was not particularly bright, but enough to illuminate the space, so Eloise did not turn on the overhead light in the kitchen, leaving it slightly dim. Meanwhile, a large window, nearly a floor-to-ceiling one, beside her let in the soft blue moonlight, gently enveloping her.
In the hazy night, her silhouette was delicate and graceful. The silk nightgown swayed gently with her movements, and the enchanting curve of her waist and hips appeared and vanished in the mundane tasks she went about.
Isidore leaned against the kitchen doorway, silently watching the scene, his gaze lingering without a word for a long time. In a daze, he had the illusion of his little wife bustling in the kitchen, and his chest tightened as if struck by a punch, both aching and sour.
Unable to resist, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Eloise's slender waist from behind. She exclaimed, "How did you come down? What if someone else in the house finds out?" Isidore couldn't be bothered to answer such a trivial question, whispering, "Keep doing what you're doing." He placed his hand on her waist, pressing the curve, and began to stroke downward.
Eloise stifled a gasp, struggling twice, but couldn't break free. She felt his hand move deeper, her legs growing weak while her heart seemed to race with anticipation.
The next moment, her greatest fear came true. The housekeeper, who slept in the servant's room on the first floor, was awakened by the sounds of her cooking in the kitchen. She opened her door and slowly made her way from the living room toward the kitchen.
Her voice was still heavy with sleep, and she asked suspiciously, "Who's in the kitchen?" Eloise quickly turned around and, as if by instinct, fell into Isidore's arms. Isidore leaned back, effortlessly catching her falling body with his chest.
The loud sound of the fall only made the housekeeper more suspicious, and she quickened her pace. Eloise pushed Isidore away and leapt to her feet, shouting, "It's me! What are you doing? Do you have to interfere just because I'm making something to eat?"
Since falling out with Mrs. Brown, Eloise had lost her temper with everyone else in the villa. The housekeeper did not want to provoke her, but the confusion on her face remained: "How come I just heard...?"
Eloise tried to act natural. "Oh, there's water on the floor. I slipped by accident, but it's fine."
The housekeeper cautiously craned her neck. From her angle, Eloise's lower half was fully hidden by the kitchen counter, but her messy hair and evasive gaze still made her appear suspicious.
She tentatively stepped forward, "I'll bring the mop to clean the floor."
"I said it's fine!" Eloise yelled loudly, her heart in her throat. From the corner of her eye, she saw Isidore slowly rise, then disappear into the blind spot of her vision.
She didn't have time to care about him, her mind racing on how to send the troublesome housekeeper away, however, she soon realized that Isidore hadn't gone far. Instead, he was mischievously lurking beneath the hem of her nightgown.
