Interesting. He ran the tip of his tongue over his upper lip, his teeth gently biting down, lowering his gaze in silence, and lifting the corners of his lips.
No matter how she viewed him as evil, dark, or stubbornly pushed him away, their bodies were in sync. They were each other's creators, having done it so many times. So accustomed to it, there was no need for conscious participation; their bodies simply reacted instinctively.
...Yet, on the other hand, despite being so in sync, she still chose to push him away.
She lay peacefully asleep on the bed, yet in his mind, he saw the image of her running off after getting out of the car, hiding behind Lucienne, trembling. Just thinking about it, a suffocating feeling still lingered in his heart. He knew he shouldn't indulge in such hopes, yet he still clung to the expectation of being fully accepted. Others might see him as dangerous, troublesome, but she...
Isidore's thick lashes trembled slightly.
The wet spot between her legs was from kissing and fingering, and more surging out during the subsequent fondling. The inner thighs were also shiny with a pool of moisture. He wondered what she would look like if it continued.
He even felt an impulse to break free. What would her reaction be if she was consciously aware of him playing with her body?
In the dark night, a lone man and a solitary woman—his beloved, the only girl he truly liked. He could not control the wild desires that surged within him. With reason fleeing, he bent down, hovering above Eloise's body. His shadow fell, covering her completely.
Long, slender fingers gently gathered the crotch of the underwear, and the two labia flaps opened and closed instinctively beneath the fabric. He then lifted the corner of the fabric. The juicy, plump vulva, shaped like a fragrant bread, revealed a tiny bit, moist and adorable. The pink, tight cleft was pressed by the hard pants leg, which looked uncomfortable.
It was enough for Isidore, who squeezed his index finger through the gap and let it slide into a warm, enveloping space once his finger broke through the tight entrance, accompanied by slippery mucus. He was almost drunk with the warmth, his fingers slowly turning, delicately tracing the lustful details of every inch inside her.
His rough fingertips glided over the folds of the inner wall, where the most deeply nestled, resilient little meatballs were piled up, and he patiently pressed down on them, stroke by stroke. After one finger was fully adapted, the space between the fingers was filled with lubricant, and he added the second and third. He rotated and changed angles while thrusting, making a splashing sound of "ploppp" as it went in.
The vagina responded positively to his intrusion, with subtle wiggles and occasional squeezes that felt uncomfortable when the stimulation built up. Until Eloise scrunched her little face, letting out a soft "mm" sound. He withdrew his hand, smoothing the downward curve of her lips. The traces of water on his fingers spread, glistening as they gently brushed against her soft, delicate cheek.
Isidore pressed his face against hers, the water traces between them smoothing the friction, yet it quickly dried, leaving them pressed together, parched. Consequently, his penis was inserted between her legs, the shaft was hot and sticky against her vagina, feeling it biting down bite by bite. The man's strong thighs drew in close, easily merging her legs together and holding them tight.
His posture resembled doing a push-up, with his arms on either side, his waist leading the narrow hips, and his penis stabbing into the narrow, slippery space between her legs, like a storm or a falling stone. The small labia were like delicate petals in a storm, pushed and swayed by the large glans, falling open on either side and revealing a red seam in the middle that opens up to a whole new world.
Yet he still did not take the next step. Having come this far, the remaining hesitation seemed only to add fuel to the fire, as if to cover up what was already exposed. He still gritted his teeth, lingering before temptation, the muscles on his back tensing, forming deep ridges. It was a stubbornness that should not have existed within him.
He persistently gripped the leg joint of Eloise, pressing harder with each stroke, slapping his belly against hers. Eloise furrowed her brow and turned her face away, her shoulders tightening before relaxing, her chest rising momentarily. Isidore watched her calmly, sensing every subtle shift in her expression.
After a soft, complaining hum, her breathing became irregular—this was the sign of her slowly waking up.
Then, her breath abruptly stopped, and for two or three seconds, no air passed through her nose. Isidore leaned in, so close that only an inch separated them, and only then did he faintly catch the weak breath of the wind. He understood. She was confused, probably still caught in a dream, using those two or three seconds to confirm whether she was still in it.
When she finally confirmed that this was not a dream, but reality, panic mixed with confusion. She took a small, hurried breath, trying her best to keep it inaudible. Isidore lowered his head and bit her lip, slowly moving to her lower lip. He parted her lips with his tongue, pushing it in, reaching the deepest part, and stirring gently up and down. While doing all this, he patiently awaited her response.
A sober, normal person, lying on their back, with a mischievous tongue blocking their throat, would generally struggle uncontrollably with their limbs, while making sounds of breathlessness. But a sober person who attempts to feign sleep is different.
Eloise clearly felt the difficulty in breathing. Her choice was to tense her limbs, restraining them from struggling, while tightening her throat to swallow the sound of her whimper.
Isidore's tongue felt the tightening of her throat. Eloise, lacking experience, did not realize that the harder she tried to pretend, the more she exposed the falseness of it. A faint smile appeared in his heart.
He hadn't expected that, as he pressed against her, drawing close to her body, she would choose to feign sleep.
His lower body paused for a moment, and Isidore's thighs swayed lightly, as if adjusting the angle. His penis was like a gun, and he lifted it up little by little, aiming it at the target. The tip of the penis slowly rubbed open the entrance of the vagina, pushed in slightly to gather strength, then lifted the waist, plunged deeply, and pushed all the way in with one breath.
Isidore deliberately let out a long sigh in Eloise's ear, the feeling of inserting into a tight ass after wandering around for so long was indeed ecstatic. The feeling of being stuffed was naturally ecstatic, and Eloise almost couldn't hold back a cry, but immediately pressed her lips together, forcing the sound back in. Isidore acted as if he hadn't noticed, biting her breast.
He licked slowly, as if eating ice cream. Since she chose to pretend to be asleep, he chose to see through it without saying a word. Her body, a few gentle strokes, followed by a forceful penetration to the very depths.
The light in the room was faint. As Isidore thrust once, he momentarily felt a blur before shaking his head to dispel the dizziness.
Eloise had a small face, and her tousled hair draped like a veil, covering most of it. It was hard to read her feelings from her expression. Isidore closed his eyes, carefully sensing the feedback her body gave.
The conclusion he drew made him stroke her smooth neck before thrusting twice with force. It was soft, tight, and getting wetter and wetter inside. The two of them intertwined in the silence of the air. Isidore's gaze was like water.
"I know you're awake," he sighed, speaking softly in her ear. As soon as the sentence was spoken, Eloise let out a cry and began to tremble violently from the waist down, soaking the bedding. Isidore held her in his arms, kissing her neck and cheek. His voice was calm as he whispered, "Don't be afraid, you'll be fine."
He would ensure that she left here unharmed, no matter the cost. As for Milo, the way to bring about a person's ruin was to first drive them insane. Mr. Ravenscroft was consumed by his own paternal love, while Milo would ultimately be devoured by his own desires.
All of this was under Isidore's meticulous plotting. And now, the tenderness and closeness were ironically brought about by Milo's misstep. Eloise was innocently pitiful, but how could he bear to let go? He shamelessly took advantage of this moment. He held a feeling akin to a prayer, hoping that she would give some kind of response.
Eloise chose to continue pretending to sleep, so he said no more. The vagina relaxed calmly and then tightened sensually again. He placed his hand on the bulge and gently pressed down on the small clitoris, slowly massaging it. He lifted his hips and gently pushed in, moving with a gentle, smooth motion.
She maintained an air of indifference, unmoved by the situation, her expression cold and distant, yet her body revealed everything. Isidore pressed his body against hers, his thick breath filling her as his massive form engulfed her. Eloise was held in his arms, her body warm and suffocating, as if floating in a buoyant hot spring. For a moment, she forgot the unpleasant reality of the situation.
He shifted his position, kissing her back from behind, his arms wrapped around her chest, muscles taut and defined. The solid ab muscles hit her butt like a hard board.
When Eloise reached her peak, her back arched up and pressed against his chest, making her vagina the most sensitive at that moment. He just gently rubbed inside her, and she finally couldn't help letting out a faint sound.
Isidore pulled out his penis and shot outside, so it only needed a simple cleaning to become fresh.
