Filed to story: When His Wife Can’t Forgive
“Yes, I baked it myself, and I brought you the most visually appealing slice.”
Realizing her misstep, she quickly corrected herself.
“No, no, it’s… It’s what my dog left behind.”
Kenji produced a tissue from his pocket.
Scarlette’s demeanor shifted dramatically.
“What are you doing?”
Kenji, struggling to maintain his composure, replied, “It is… It is truly dreadful. It does not resemble a dog’s leftover. It tastes like something far less palatable.”
Before he could expel the offending morsel from his mouth, Scarlette clamped her hand over his lips, her voice fierce.
“Do not even think about spitting it out. Swallow it!”
Moonlight spilled across the second-floor balcony where Caden stood, his eyes fixed on the scene below. His gaze remained locked on Kenji’s car, unwavering in its intensity.
“What are you looking at?” Alicia draped a jacket over his shoulders, her voice tinged with curiosity.
“Kenji’s car hasn’t moved since he arrived,” Caden replied flatly.
“I can’t help but wonder what he’s doing with Scarlette.”
Alicia peered over the railing. Through the half-lowered window, shadowy figures moved within the vehicle, their actions obscured by the darkness.
“As long as Scarlette is happy,” Alicia mused. A gentle smile crossed her face as she considered how her daughter had blossomed these past few months in Kenji’s company.
“She’s quite taken with him.”
“But it’s too late for her to be out with Kenji,” Caden frowned, his displeasure evident.
“Kenji is merely taking Scarlette to the dormitory,” Alicia countered.
“Besides, I trust him. He would never hurt her.”
Caden, with his deeper understanding of male nature, harbored doubts. But then he remembered Scarlette was only eighteen. Surely, Kenji would hold back, wouldn’t he?
“Let it go. She’s grown now,” Caden sighed, recalling how Scarlette had secretly packed a small cake tonight for Kenji-something she’d never done for Zayden.
Meanwhile, Kenji, whom Alicia trusted so deeply, was locked in a passionate kiss with her cherished daughter, his intentions growing bolder. Learning from past experiences, he’d taken his time, spending thirty patient minutes helping Scarlette relax.
“I’m not ready yet,” Scarlette whispered, clinging to him.
“Perhaps we should try something else.”
Kenji’s breath came heavy, his voice rough with desire.
“Look, my fingers are wet with your water.”
Scarlette remained unconvinced. A spark of inspiration hit her, and she gestured to his mouth.
“According to a book I read, using here works better. Why not try that?”
Kenji stared at her, dumbfounded.
“What kind of book taught you that?”
“A romance novel,” Scarlette replied.
Though Kenji had never read such explicit material, he was willing to explore more conventional experiences with her.
They settled onto the bed and started a video.
Scarlette recoiled at the explicit scenes unfolding before her, her wide-eyed shock betraying her innocence.
Kenji’s brow furrowed. It had been years since he had watched such content.
“So, that’s your type?” Scarlette shot him a look.
“Long legs, glasses, and black stockings?”
“I prefer generous curves and less theatrics,” Kenji stated matter-of-factly.
Scarlette bristled at his response.
“I’m still growing, you know!”
Kenji just shook his head, his expression dismissive.
With playful aggression, Scarlette launched herself at him, but he caught her mid-motion, drawing her into a deep kiss as the video faded into background noise. Reality proved far more enticing than any tutorial.
Surrendering to his expertise, Scarlette abandoned her academic approach.
“Are all men’s kisses this intoxicating?” she asked breathlessly when their lips finally parted.
His dark eyes bore into hers as his fingers hovered at his belt buckle.
“Thinking of sampling others?”
“Not now, but life is long,” she replied thoughtfully.
A cold laugh escaped his lips.
“Makes sense.”
Moments later, Scarlette’s eyes widened as he lowered his pants, revealing himself.
“Did you pull out the wrong one? It looks different from before. Do you have a more modest version?”
Kenji cupped her face, his expression deadpan.
“Who the hell has two?”
“Must you be so crude?” Scarlette chided.
“Bedroom talk requires some grit.”
A devilish glint flickered in Kenji’s eyes as he gazed at her innocent face. Though he knew his next move would provoke her anger, he did it anyway.
As expected, Scarlette struggled, but her stubborn nature prevailed. Even as he tested her limits, she refused to yield.
Though her body ached fiercely, pride kept her from pleading for mercy. Only when Kenji left to change the sheets did she let her silent tears fall.
“Are those tears I hear?” Kenji called out.
“Absolutely not,” she declared loudly, quickly swallowing to steady her voice.
Skepticism colored his features as he approached, bending slightly to examine her face.
Though she tried to maintain her composure, her reddened eyes betrayed her, burning with silent reproach.
“Still sticking to the claim that you’re not crying?”
“Your efforts weren’t enough to bring me to tears,” she managed weakly.
“Hush now. You look half-conscious.”
Avoiding his gaze, her eyes inadvertently drifted downward, noting his state of undress. Even in its dormant state, Kenji’s penis was quite impressive. It was repulsive, revolting-everything she despised. Just like its owner, who had the audacity to make her measure it with her mouth.
The wave of self-pity swelled until Scarlette buried her face in the blanket, sobbing.
“Nobody has ever treated me this way.”
Kenji remained silent.
“I wasn’t crying,” Scarlette swiftly added after composing herself, though her sniffling betrayed her.
“No one questioned it,” he replied, his face an emotionless mask.
Scarlette dabbed at her eyes, studying his stoic expression.
“What’s behind this sudden anger?”
Kenji changed the sheets for Scarlette and retired to the guest room. Having slept alone for over a decade, he wasn’t accustomed to sharing a bed with anyone.
Meanwhile, Scarlette tossed and turned, unable to sleep in the unfamiliar surroundings.
Reflecting on the events of the night, Scarlette had a chilling realization: her intimate encounters with Kenji had been more discomforting than pleasurable. Initially, he had been considerate, but that care quickly evaporated, replaced by a reckless pursuit of his own gratification. She wondered why she should endure such unpleasant experiences.
The following morning, Scarlette addressed Kenji.
“Let’s not make out anymore. I find your technique less than satisfactory.”
To her surprise, Kenji didn’t seem fazed. His nighttime impulses were clearly at odds with his more composed daytime persona.
“Intimacy won’t be a prerequisite for our marriage,” he declared.
“After we’re married, we shall respect each other’s boundaries.”
Scarlette was utterly bewildered.