Chapter 68: Midnight Heat

Ji-hye was already out cold by the time Joon-ho returned from the bathroom. She lay sprawled across the bed, one hand tucked under her cheek, her lips slightly parted in the softest of breaths. The blanket had slid halfway down her hip, baring the smooth curve of her thigh. Her skin still glowed faintly, a sheen of sweat catching the dim light. He stood there for a moment, watching her, feeling that strange blend of satisfaction and tenderness that always hit after they’d been together like this. With a quiet sigh, he reached for the blanket and pulled it up over her, tucking the edge beneath her bare shoulder. She shifted slightly at the touch, a faint hum slipping from her lips, but didn’t wake. His cock, however, didn’t get the memo. It was still hard—rock-hard—throbbing in slow, steady pulses. Even after the way Ji-hye had clung to him earlier, milking him with every deep thrust until he’d spilled into her, his body refused to fully settle. It wasn’t just lingering arousal—it was that restless, heavy ache that made him feel almost feverish. He glanced back at her, making sure she was sleeping deeply, then quietly stepped away from the bed. No point in disturbing her. The air outside the bedroom was cooler, brushing against his skin as he moved down the stairs. He didn’t bother putting on clothes—the stillness of the hour, the quiet creak of the wooden steps under his feet, made the house feel like its own private world. He’d only meant to grab some water, maybe sit for a moment before forcing himself to sleep. But the scene that greeted him in the living room stopped him cold. Harin was there—half-sprawled across the sofa, one leg draped over the armrest, the other bent to spread herself open. Her shirt and pants were nowhere in sight, abandoned in a careless heap on the floor. Her bra was pushed up to frame her breasts, nipples hard and flushed a deep pink. Her panties had been stripped down to her ankles, forgotten there like an afterthought. The bottle of soju on the coffee table was already half-empty, another empty one tipped on its side beside it. She was flushed from drink, her cheeks and collarbone painted a delicate rose, but the real heat was between her legs. Her fingers moved in slow, deliberate circles over her clit, slick sounds faint but distinct in the quiet room. Her other hand squeezed her breast, thumb flicking over the tight peak in a way that made her let out soft, unrestrained moans. It was obvious she hadn’t noticed him. Her head was tipped back against the sofa cushion, lips parted, eyes heavy-lidded and unfocused. Every few breaths, she’d let out a sound—half-moan, half-whisper—that made his cock twitch harder. Joon-ho stood there for a heartbeat, watching. She was beautiful like this—messy, uninhibited, caught between tipsy haze and raw need. Then he moved. Quiet, slow steps until he stood right beside the sofa. His hand replaced hers on her clit before she even registered he was there, the pads of his fingers slick immediately from her heat. Her eyes snapped open in startled surprise, only to widen further when his mouth claimed hers in a slow, deliberate kiss. The taste of her lips was a mix of soju and something uniquely Harin—sweet, warm, intoxicating. She gave a muffled sound, somewhere between shock and surrender, before her hands came up to loop around his neck, dragging him closer. Her bare breasts pressed against his chest as she kissed him back, messy and eager. The bra she’d left pushed up only served to frame the way her nipples rubbed against his skin. When they broke apart, she was already breathing harder. "Joon-ho..." she murmured, her voice low, slurred slightly with drink. His fingers kept working her clit, faster now, watching the way her eyes fluttered half-shut and her hips rolled into his touch. Her head tipped back against the cushion, lips parting in a gasp. "Ahhh—fuck—" The sound was soft but desperate, and it pushed him to tease her harder, rubbing tight, deliberate circles until her thighs trembled. She came quickly—too quickly—her body jerking against him in short, stuttering tremors. Her moan spilled into the open space between them, her grip on his shoulders tightening before going loose. Only then did her gaze drop, and she noticed the state he was in—cock flushed, swollen, veins standing out along the shaft. Her smile turned slow and knowing. "Why are you still so hard?" "Ji-hye’s sleeping," he said simply. Her thumb swept over the bead of precum glistening at his tip. "Still... this sinful cock hasn’t had enough, has it?" She slipped from the sofa without hesitation, her bare knees sinking into the carpet before him. Hair loose and a little mussed from drinking, her flushed cheeks and hazy eyes made her look half-drunk on want. Her hands closed around him immediately, hot palms wrapping his shaft with an almost greedy grip. She gave a slow stroke from base to tip, pausing to let her thumb rub over the wet slit before leaning in and dragging her tongue up his length in one long, lazy lick. Then she pressed her tits together around him, trapping him in the soft, pillowy heat while her lips closed over the head. The first wet pull of her mouth made him grunt, the sound rough in the quiet room. At first, she worked in a slow, indulgent rhythm—her mouth sliding over the crown while her breasts massaged the rest of him, drool spilling down to slick his skin. Every so often she’d let him slip from between them to spit into her palm, smear the slickness over his shaft, and take him deeper into her mouth. Joon-ho’s hand drifted to the back of her head, fingers tangling in her hair, guiding her down a little further each time. She moaned softly around him, the vibration running straight up his length. Her free hand slid between her thighs, finding her clit without hesitation. But she didn’t rub hard—not yet. Instead, she teased herself in slow, languid circles, keeping the sensation simmering low in her belly. She wanted the ache to build, to sharpen, to make the eventual release hit harder. Her pace on him quickened—slow strokes giving way to wet, eager bobs, her tongue swirling along the underside of his shaft each time she pulled back. "Fuck..." he muttered under his breath, the word drawn out, his hips twitching toward her. She glanced up, eyes half-lidded but focused, holding him deep in her throat for a long, daring second before pulling back with a wet pop. "You taste like Ji-hye," she murmured, a wicked curl to her lips, before swallowing him down again. Her own breathing was changing now—shorter, sharper gasps when her fingers pressed a little harder to her clit. She was riding the edge on purpose, letting herself get close but never tipping over. It was making her sloppy. Her spit coated his cock, her cheeks hollowing with each pull, strings of wetness connecting her lips to him when she broke away to gasp for air. Her other hand alternated between cupping his balls and stroking the base in time with her mouth. And still, between every stroke, her hips gave tiny rolls into her own fingers, chasing that building wave but refusing to let it crash. "Edge yourself, huh?" he rasped, reading her too easily. "You’re holding it back." She moaned around him, confirming it without words. Then she pushed harder—taking him deeper, down to the base, her throat flexing around him. Her nose brushed his lower abdomen, and she held there, swallowing, before pulling up and sucking the head in tight, swirling her tongue beneath it. The ache in her belly was white-hot now. She rubbed her clit harder, faster, her hips grinding against her own hand. Her moan turned into a choked gasp as her thighs trembled—she was right there. Joon-ho’s groan deepened, his grip in her hair tightening. "Harin—" That was all it took. She shoved him deep again, sealing her lips tight as she finally let herself fall over the edge. Her orgasm ripped through her, her moan vibrating around him in frantic, trembling pulses. The sensation dragged him with her. His cock swelled in her mouth, and she held him in her throat as the first hot spurt hit the back of it. She swallowed greedily, milking him with her mouth while her own climax shuddered through her, her hips jerking helplessly against her fingers. Each pulse of his release only seemed to prolong hers, the two orgasms tangling together in wet, messy heat. When he was spent, she finally pulled back, his cock slipping free with a slick pop. Her lips were red and swollen, her chin wet, her breathing ragged from both effort and pleasure. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, still flushed, still trembling slightly from the intensity she’d forced on herself. And the slow, satisfied smile she gave him said it all—she’d gotten exactly what she wanted. Settling beside him on the sofa, she leaned back, the faintest smirk playing at her mouth. "Don’t worry. Tonight’s Ji-hye’s special night. I won’t steal her thunder." He glanced at her sidelong. "You sound like you’re keeping score." She shook her head, curling against him. "I don’t care about being number one. Just... if you ever plan to throw me away, tell me first. Don’t blindside me." Her voice was quieter now, the drink softening the edges of her tone. He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her in. "I won’t abandon my women—unless they want to walk away themselves." She didn’t answer. Her breathing had already slowed, her body heavy as she snuggled into him. He sat there for a while, just looking at her. Harin’s breathing was slow and steady now, her lips parted slightly, the faintest trace of a smile still tugging at the corner of her mouth. The flush on her cheeks hadn’t faded yet, and a stray lock of hair clung to her damp temple. Carefully, he slid an arm beneath her knees and another around her back, lifting her with ease. She felt almost weightless in his arms, her head tipping against his shoulder, breath warm where it brushed his neck. The faint scent of her perfume mixed with the sharp, lingering musk of sex, clinging to his skin as he moved. The hallway was dim, the only sound the creak of the floor under his bare feet. He nudged the guest room door open with his shoulder and stepped inside, lowering her onto the bed as though she were made of glass. She didn’t wake—just made a faint, content sound and turned her face into the pillow. He straightened the blanket over her, tucking it lightly under her chin. For a moment, he stood there, looking down at her sleeping form. There was something disarming about her vulnerability in sleep, the sharp edges gone, the teasing replaced by quiet stillness. Without a word, he turned and slipped back into the hall, the soft click of the door sealing her in the darkness. When he returned upstairs, Ji-hye was still where he’d left her, but she stirred faintly as the mattress dipped. Her lashes fluttered without opening, and she instinctively shifted toward him, curling into his side as though she’d been waiting for him. He draped an arm around her, feeling the smooth heat of her skin against his. This time, the tension in his shoulders eased fully, the last remnants of the night’s restlessness fading. The scent of both women lingered faintly on his skin, a reminder of what had just happened—of heat, release, and temptation—but threaded through it was something heavier. The quiet, grounding weight of his own promise still sat in his chest, unshaken.