A Love I Shouldn't Feel
Chapter 149: Claimed and Owned ( 149 )

Chapter 149: Claimed and Owned ( 149 )

It’s not Mom’s fault, Satomi.

Just look at him now.

This... this version of Haruki—breathless, flushed, holding me like I’m the only thing that matters...

He didn’t become like this overnight.

You just didn’t see it.

I can tell you rarely let him touch you.

You probably thought he didn’t mind... that he’d stay loyal without warmth, without closeness.

But men like Haruki...

They don’t want much.

A warm meal. A soft body. A little care. Someone to hold them after a long day.

That’s all.

Sex, respect, a quiet home—someone who greets them with a smile.

That’s all most men ever ask for.

She ran her fingers along Haruki’s arm as he held her closer, his body still pressed against hers.

And you couldn’t even give him that.

She looked up at the ceiling, her voice silent but her thoughts clear.

Unlike your father...

Your father doesn’t crave touch. Doesn’t long for affection.

His arousal is only for power. For money. For wealth.

Not for a real woman.

Not like this.

Kyouko closed her eyes and let herself rest against Haruki’s chest.

So no, Satomi.

It’s not my fault.

I didn’t seduce him.

I just gave him what he needed.

How do I know your father is strange, Satomi?

Because he never cared.

He was blind.

Blind to the woman beside him every day.

A woman who stood by him for over twenty years.

Who smiled for him.

Cooked for him.

Washed his clothes. Managed his household.

Never raised her voice. Never complained.

He had a beautiful wife—faithful, quiet, and always waiting for him to come home.

And still, he only cared about money.

He never saw me.

He didn’t see this woman... the one who now sleeps with his own son-in-law.

Yes... me.

And yet, I don’t even feel shame anymore.

Because now... I understand.

Now I know what a real man is.

Someone like your husband, Satomi.

Handsome. Tall. Sincere.

Burning with desire, yes—but not just for sex.

He wants love. Warmth. Food. A soft voice at the door. A reason to come home.

He wants a woman who smiles when he walks in.

Who hugs him when he sleeps.

Who kisses his forehead when he’s tired.

He doesn’t want riches.

He just wants a home.

A real one.

Not an empty house with cold meals and silent walls.

But someone who makes that place feel alive.

Someone who makes him feel wanted.

Kyouko reached up and brushed a strand of hair from Haruki’s face as he dozed quietly beside her, his arm still wrapped protectively around her waist.

She whispered in her heart:

He doesn’t need much.

Just someone who truly sees him.

And I do.

Haruki kissed her again—slow, deliberate. Each one an unspoken vow.

"Kyouko..." he whispered between kisses.

"Don’t have sex with your husband anymore."

Her eyes widened.

Then she smiled softly, her lips brushing against his.

"Mm... okay~" she whispered.

My husband?

Who...?

Who is that?

Is he as big as you?

As thick? As deep?

Did he ever make me tremble the way you do—just from entering me slowly?

Does he crave me the way you do?

Does he stare at me like I’m something beautiful—not just a woman, but a woman worth worshipping?

Or...

Can he even satisfy me with that tiny, tired thing he calls a manhood?

She remembered the years of being untouched. The silence. The cold sheets.

He never even looked at me.

Never touched this soft, hairless pussy the way you do—so tender, so greedy.

He didn’t care for this smooth skin I worked so hard to keep soft.

These full, firm breasts he never noticed once.

Her fingers grazed over her chest—where Haruki’s hands and mouth had left their warmth.

These pink little nubs you’re obsessed with—the ones that harden the moment you breathe near them.

The ones you suck and kiss like you’ve been dreaming about them for years.

He never did.

He never wanted to.

Kyouko leaned over him slowly, her bare skin brushing against his chest—soft, smooth, and warm.

Her full breasts gently pressed against his face, teasing, cradling him in her scent, her warmth, her surrender.

She bent close, her breath a feather against his ear.

"I won’t, Haruki..." she whispered.

"I won’t give this body to anyone else."

Her fingers stroked his cheek tenderly as he looked up at her—entranced.

"This body is yours."

She kissed his forehead softly. Then his cheek. Then his lips—slow, sensual, claiming.

"Ravish me all you want."

"Devour me whenever you want."

Her voice trembled slightly—not from fear, but from the depth of her truth.

"This..." she whispered, pressing her body closer, her skin brushing over his,

"...is yours."

"I don’t mind..." she murmured, her lips close to his ear.

"If you keep sleeping with your wife... with Satomi..."

Haruki’s eyes flicked toward her, startled, confused.

But Kyouko only smiled. Calm. Sultry. Sure of herself.

"As long as..."

She reached down slowly, her fingers trailing across his penis.

Her breath hitched slightly.

Even now... he was still hard.

Her fingers curled around his penis—thick, pulsing, hot.

But she couldn’t close her grip fully.

He was too big.

Her eyes fluttered slightly at the sensation, her thumb brushing along the ridge with reverence.

"As long as you don’t forget this body..."

She leaned closer, her breasts brushing against his side.

"Don’t forget how this body feels... when you’re deep inside me."

Her hand stroked him slowly, lovingly.

"Just remember..." she whispered, her lips brushing against his jaw,

"to ravish me with this..."

She gave him one slow, firm stroke—her eyes half-lidded with a smile.

"...whenever you want."

"Make me tremble."

"Make me beg."

"Make me satisfied with this length of yours..."

She kissed his neck softly, then rested her forehead against his.

"Anytime, Haruki."

"Anytime you want me..."

Haruki smiled.

His hand slid slowly down her back, settling on the curve of her soft, bare butt.

His fingers traced the shape—gentle, possessive. He gave it a slow, loving caress, like he couldn’t believe she was real.

"How could I ever forget..." he whispered.

"When your body is this beautiful."

Kyouko’s eyes softened, her cheeks faintly pink—but she didn’t look away.

"When you’re more beautiful than her."

His voice stayed low—no cruelty in it. Just truth.

"Tighter than her."

"Smoother than her."

His hand slid down, brushing the back of her thigh, then upward again.

"Everything about you... it’s perfect."

His eyes wandered slowly—memorizing her again.

"Your skin... so soft, no hair... not even down there."

His voice caught slightly at the thought.

"Your breasts—full, firm, shaped like a dream."

His thumb gently traced the slope of her side.

"Your stomach... flat. Your belly button, so small and delicate."

He looked into her eyes again—his voice quiet but intense.

"Kyouko... you’re not just the most beautiful woman I’ve ever touched..."

( End Of Chapter )

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