Kate lifted her head, lips glistening, and met Inoue's eyes. The sudden pause left him strangely disappointed, but curiosity was stronger. He had to ask something.
His English, however, betrayed him. "How are you?"
He cursed himself immediately. He should have said Who are you? No, that wasn't right either—he already knew she was Kate Bretzel. Maybe he should have asked Where am I?
Whether she misunderstood or simply chose to answer in her own way, Kate replied evenly. "My husband brought you here."
Husband. You. Picked up.
The words were simple enough, and Inoue understood. But he wanted to know more.
Why would George Bradley bring me here? And if that's true… why are you doing this to me?Most of all—where is your husband right now?
A cold shiver ran through him.
If we get caught, I'm ruined.
The questions swirled inside him, but his tongue froze. Typical of him—thinking fast, speaking slow, especially in English.
Yet Kate seemed to read his expression, tilting her head with a patient smile. "Don't worry. Just enjoy."
"What?"
Inoue let out a sigh. None of this made sense. But the moment he saw the sultry look in her eyes, his thoughts began to scatter. She leaned closer, exhaling a teasing breath against his skin.
The warmth of it stunned him, muddling his senses. He clenched his fists, then released them.
"To hell with it," he muttered.
Resigned, he gave in. Kate returned to him with deliberate grace, her movements slow, unhurried, almost ceremonial. The sensation was overwhelming, sending a tremor through his body. His breath caught in his throat.
It had been so long since he'd felt anything like this—so long since desire had set him trembling from head to toe. His restraint began to crumble.
"This is crazy," he gasped.
Kate only hummed in answer, her voice muffled but pleased, as if to tease him further. The sound alone nearly undid him.
Why is she so good at this?
She wasn't still, either. One of her hands traced along his body, deliberate and smooth, while the other toyed with him in ways that made his breath falter. The blend of touches was too much—he thought he might lose control right there.
Sensing his edge, Kate pulled back just in time, her timing unnervingly precise. Then, with an almost playful flick of her tongue, she trailed lower, teasing in a way that made his spine arch.
Alright… I'm not doing this. It's happening to me. I'm not guilty—I'm just… the victim here.
The thought felt absurd even as he clung to it. If Bradley ever confronted him, he'd need some excuse.
But Kate, as if she could read his mind, lifted her gaze and murmured, "You don't need to feel guilty. My husband brought me a gift tonight. That gift is you."
"What the hell does that mean…?" Inoue tried to form the words, but they melted away as her tongue traced upward again, slow and deliberate, until he shuddered from the shock of it.
His resolve cracked. He lowered a hand, resting it on the back of her head, needing to communicate what he couldn't say. Kate seemed to understand immediately. With a faint hum of approval, she deepened her attention, her rhythm steady and assured.
The sounds filled the room—soft, wet, insistent—and Inoue's body jerked involuntarily. He stared down at her, half-afraid he'd hurt her with his sudden movement, but her eyes were watching him, sparkling with mischief. That look alone nearly drove him mad.
"I can't take this anymore," he muttered. "We switch."
The excuse he'd made for himself—about being the passive one—was discarded in an instant. Inoue pushed himself upright, and Kate gave no resistance. In fact, she reclined willingly, her voice husky with delight.
"I'm excited," she whispered, her English clear enough this time. "You're… my first Asian man."
The words sent a thrill through him, giving him a moment of clarity. He looked down at her, drinking in her form as though seeing her for the first time. She was perfect, sculpted in every curve—her chest full and firm, her waist narrowing before flaring into hips that seemed designed to tempt. She was Venus herself, lying beneath him.
"Perfect," he breathed.
Desire surged again, urging him recklessly forward. But he stopped himself, catching his breath.
Not yet. Not so fast.
He bent down instead, capturing her lips with his own. She welcomed him eagerly, parting her mouth to meet his. Their tongues intertwined, tasting, teasing, and Inoue marveled at the sweetness of her.
When they broke apart, Kate whispered against his cheek, "You're a very good kisser."
The praise sent a flush of pride through him. He let his lips drift lower, grazing her neck, then her collarbone, savoring the soft sounds that escaped her throat. She arched beneath him, trembling, and the thrill of it nearly undid him.
If I'm the first, then I need to prove myself, he thought. No prejudice. No disappointment. Only something unforgettable.
His hand slid along her body, lingering, exploring, and each touch drew a sharper cry from her lips. Inoue found himself intoxicated not just by her body but by her reactions—the way she shivered, the way her voice rose, the way her breath caught when he pressed closer.
By the time his lips moved lower, tracing the contours of her form, Kate was already trembling in anticipation. Her voice came in broken fragments of English and moans.
"You… so good… can't believe it…"
Her praise only spurred him further.
"...Sss."
The kiss broke at last, leaving them both gasping. Kate drew back just enough to look into his eyes, her lips curved in a half-smile.
"You're a very good kisser," she whispered.
Not only beautiful, but generous with praise as well. Inoue felt his chest swell, foolishly buoyed like a dolphin leaping at applause. He pressed forward again, this time letting his lips and tongue drift lower, grazing along the curve of her neck.
"Aah..."
Her voice, husky and unguarded, was dangerously alluring. Every sound drove him closer to losing his mind. Yet he forced himself to move slowly, savoring the path downward until his mouth reached the swell of her chest.
If I'm the first Asian man for her, then I can't leave her with prejudice or disappointment. I'll give her an experience she won't forget.
He kissed and caressed her with deliberate care, his hand brushing against her as he explored. Kate shivered beneath his touch, her body betraying its pleasure. She was no longer a glamorous actress on a red carpet—just a woman, vulnerable, responding to him.
Her soft cries grew louder, high enough that for a moment he worried George Bradley might hear. But then he cast the thought aside.
To hell with it. Not now.
He lavished attention on her, dividing it evenly, until at last he moved further down. Kate, with no trace of modesty, parted herself before him, inviting him closer. The boldness startled him—so different from the shy resistance he remembered from past lovers.
"Pretty," he blurted, then quickly added, "Very pretty."
The words were simple, awkward, but Kate laughed softly, her amusement colored with desire. The sound alone made his body ache.
"Okay, I go~," he muttered, half in jest, half in surrender.
He lowered himself further, his hands and mouth tracing the most intimate part of her. The taste of her, the heat, the way she writhed under his touch—it all rushed into him like fire.
"Aah... ahhh!"
Kate's moans grew sharper, her head tossing from side to side. For a moment, she thought back to her husband bringing this man into their home. At first she had been skeptical, disappointed even. But now—now she realized she had underestimated him. His strength, his skill, the way he read her body—he was far more than she expected.
"You're… incredible," she gasped between shudders. "So good…!"
Her praise only fueled him more. He teased her thighs, kissed the sensitive edges of her body, and when he finally reached her center, her entire body arched in helpless response.
Kate looked down, breathless, and saw him intent on her, his mouth moving with a hunger that made her shiver. The sight alone drove her half-mad. Her voice broke as she cried out, "God, you're driving me crazy—too good!"
Inoue had been praised before—girlfriends who clung to him even when parting, women who asked for one last night because of how he made them feel. But to hear such words now, from Kate Bretzel herself, was intoxicating beyond belief.
He moved faster, relentless, and Kate's hands clutched at her own body, squeezing and twisting as she writhed. Desire overwhelmed her, and she finally pleaded, breathless, desperate.
"Enough... no more teasing... please, just take me!"
Her signal was unmistakable.
"私も我慢できない (I can't hold back either)," Inoue answered in Japanese, whether she understood or not.
He rose, steadying himself. With one hand he held her, with the other he guided himself, and with a single determined thrust—
Kate cried out, her body jolting at the suddenness of it.
Inoue froze for a heartbeat, steadying himself. Not too fast. Control it. Tonight, I'll show her the strength and skill of a Japanese man.
He gave a crooked grin, leaning closer to whisper in rough English: "This is Samurai-penis."