054

JEON

Five months.

And more rounder now—soft at the edges, heavy with my blood.And God help me… she’s too beautiful for this war.

No touch.No taste.Just stolen glances across the room— her swollen curves beneath satin like a weapon I could never touch. But every morning she wakes up in my bed—the smell of her skin—the sound of her breathing, it haunts my sanity.

I want her still.

Every damn day.

Every damn night.

Hell.

Every time I see her—walking slow down the hall, one hand resting low on her bump like she’s guarding it even from me—I feel something dark and desperate coil in my gut.

Not just hunger.

Need.

Raw. Ruined.

I haven’t touched her since she came back. Not really. Since the ultrasound… since the doctor’s warning... since I saw how fear lives in her pulse—

I locked it all down.

But God…

She's gorgeous.

Too much.

And every goddamn second?

I get hard like a teenager with no control.

Like I’ve lost the power to breathe when she walks past—scent lingering, shirt stretched tight over the curve of her belly where my kid kicks against skin… Then I’m gone—stumbling into bathroom before anyone sees me—the shame , the ache—I lock myself in—

Jerk off fast, furious under cold light—Palm tight around myself,Eyes shut,

Seeing her—

Not broken.Not crying.But smiling soft… feeding Lucas…

Fuck…I'm ruined.

Sunlight hits just right as she walks through the hallway—one arm curled protectively over bump, other holding Lucas and a book like she still believes knowledge can save her from this life. Hair down. Lips bitten pink again. One step and my cock twitches like it’s starved—which it is.

Because every night?

Same story.

Walk past my bedroom. Hear nothing but silence behind door—and yet I stand there like a ghost begging for punishment. Then back to my office—the bathroom light on, pants down before the door even clicks shut…

Jerk fast—fist rough—imagining: Her moan muffled into pillow as I enter from behind, The way she’d gasp “no” while pushing back against me, How wet she’d be after weeks of denial, Or worse—Because it's not just lust anymore.

It's wanting—not just submission… But herself. All of her—even the hate—if that's all I get…But I can't have that too unless I burn into ash first…

She doesn't know any of this.Wouldn’t believe me if she did.

Every single day, Her body changing so fast I can barely keep up—

She tries to hide it with long silk—But I can see her waist curving wider and wider—She moves different now—hips swaying slow under silk, too thin for my peace of mind.Belly round and high beneath fabric, like a promise wrapped in defiance. Her back arches when she stands too long… one hand always supporting weight that is mine, even her lips still curses about me when she thinks no one listens.

I can see how her face softens with new softness.

I want to pin her down on my lap and kiss every new inch of her—Shit—my pants tighten.

She’s in the kitchen.

Laughing.

With them.The maids. Again. Lucas on her hip, little head tucked into her shoulder like he already knows only she feels safe—he grips her dress. chubby-faced and happy as she moves around the kitchen, hair down, lips caught between teeth as she flips through the cookbook—while stirs something sweet, steam rising around them like a damn dream I wasn’t invited to—

And the maids around her like she's the only thing worth smiling in this house. She laughs with them—

Why the fuck she is there?

Don’t I give her everything?

Gold.Silk.A penthouse that watches over this city like a throne?But no—she’d rather stand barefoot on cold tile, sleeves rolled up, hair tied messy low… playing house with staff who don’t bow when she walks in but smile at her—real ones—

They don't fear her. They just…talk.

Like she’s not mine.

Like she’s free to be soft without consequence.

Burn claws up my throat sharp, ugly—I want to drag every last one of them out and burn the kitchen down just so that light never shines on anyone else again—but instead…

I watch. From shadow, clenching my fists until my nails break skin.

Should I become a maid?Shave my head? Wear an apron and pour tea with fake smiles? Or should we do a roleplay—No. Not now—not while her belly swells higher each week also—

"Mr. Jeon!!"

The voice snaps me back.

The French bastards still sit across from me: slick suits, cologne too strong, smug eyes expecting answers about merger deals worth billions...

And here I am—with blood rushing south from stolen images of my wife feeding our son between giggles and goddamn pancake syrup…

I clear my throat—pants suddenly get awkwardly tight—and hope the bastards don't notice."Continue."

Silence.

"Boss—" Wooshik leans in, voice low."they're asking, are you interested in this deal?"

"…What’s your offer?" I ask.

Across the table, the Frenchmen exchange glances—bald one frowning, younger beside him adjusting his cufflinks—what happened—Shit.Is my bulge visible?—

The bald man clears his throat—"Mr. Jeon, the money—like we already said before… 150 million."

Before—When?Was I even here?Don’t remember a word they’ve said since she walked into that damn kitchen laughing with my son on her hip…

They look Confused. Like I'm the only one who has no idea what's going on.

Or was I three floors down imagining how warm she’d feel wrapped around me again—tight from disuse… moaning not from pain but pleasure because for once no fear between us— i clear my throat.  "Raise it."

Nervous glances exchange.

I take a slow sip of whiskey—

In the kitchen door she’s placing Lucas onto a chair now—one hand under his arms, the other braced on her lower back like it aches. Her robe slips slightly off one shoulder. Lucas whines want to stay in her arms.Brat—

—"Mr.… Jeon? It's already raised—to your number. One fifty."

What—when Did I say that?

Silence.They stare at each other again—as if trying to decide if Jeon has insane or what... The room stills.

Even Wooshik holds his breath.

"Raise it again. Or—"

"O-okay… 160 then?"

—I set glass down — "Not enough,"

"O-Okay...165?"

"Done!" Wooshik snaps fast—too loud, before i can say anything—like he’s trying to end this before I ruin another deal over a woman in the kitchen.

I sip—once.

Twice.

She walks back forth, barefoot, robe half-open at the front—Lucas latched onto her breast, tiny fingers curled against her skin, sucking slow and content, Her head tilts slightly as she adjusts him, one hand supporting his weight beneath his bottom… eyes half-lidded with exhaustion—or peace?

And then—

She smiles.

At them. The maids.

"Boss—165 It's a good number" Wooshik mumbles—

"But it's too much for us" they exclaims.

I sip.She stands bathed in soft light, cradling Lucas’s head as he feeds, her thumb brushes his cheek , She pats his bum slow—rhythm calm, steady—as if nothing else exists beyond this moment.And then… she smiles again.

Not at me.Never at me.

But the maids. They handed her a bowl. she takes the spoon from one of them—the younger girl giggles about spices—and she tastes it… lips parting… tongue dragging off cream…

God help me—I’m aching hard.Throbbing.

"Boss—" Wooshik whispers in my earI flinch back. He gulps—"Maybe we should raise more?"

"The hell for?" Bald Frenchman scoffs—"It's already past market value! This isn't how business works!—"

"Are you trying to—" I freeze— don’t blink.Don’t move.She stroke Lucas’ tiny bum—with the same hand once slapped me across the face screaming “You monster!”

Now?Gentle.Soft milk dripping from corner of his mouth—and she wipes it without a drama. Just love so pure it burns my eyes just looking at it… "P-Possible?"

"No —Mr. Jeon" Baldy grits— "this is impossible."

One sip.Another slow drag of whiskey burning down my throat like punishment for not touching what's mine when I had the chance—

"Boss, maybe we raise it to 200 million…"

Bald man chokes "Two hundred! That's robbery!"

"Boss—" Wooshik leans close again

"Hm"

—"Maybe they should raise more?"

The bald man scoffs—"Mr. Jeon, honestly—it's not possible. We've already exceeded your original terms.we can't go higher than 165 mill......"

Then— She turns.One shoulder bare from slipping robe as she lifts Lucas off her breast—he whines then finally lets go, milk glistening on her nipple before she tries to cover robe like a secret no one else should’ve seen...

But I did.

And God forgive me?

I wanted to be my son.

She moves—Lucas whines—tiny fists clenched, mouth still searching—until she lifts him to her shoulder, rocking slow, one hand supporting his back, the other gently patting in small circles. She hums—a soft tune, Something warm.

But then—Her nipple—still exposed under Lucas, under the thin fabric of her robe—flushed dark pink from feeding…

And it’s leaking.

Milk beads at the tip with every slight movement, then spills down—droplets falling silently onto the floor beneath her bare feet.

One after another.Soft.Wasted.

Lucas—hiccups now, fat fingers shoved into his mouth like he can still taste her… still wants more…

I want too.

I want everything that comes from her—even what he takes so freely and—

"Mr. Jeon!—This is unreasonable." The bald Frenchman grumbles—  "we’ve already increased beyond 150 million and—"

"Done" I set the glass down.

Silence.

All I hear is her breath—the soft hum stuck between lullaby and ache—she sways side to side with my boy pressed against her neck… heat mingling between skin on skin…

Then—Our eyes meet.

Hers widen slightly.Throat bobs hard—She covers herself quickly—tucking fabric over leaking breast like nothing happened—fear this time?Or something else?Awareness?

That I saw everything?That I’m watching?

She turns fast —robe swirling behind—and disappears down the hall without another look...

The air changes.

Cold again.

Empty like always.

"Mr. Jeon—"

"Get out."

Silence drops.Not even a breath.

"All of you."

They scramble fast—Room clears in seconds except Wooshik—

Silence stretches long.

I'm not ruined.

I'm possessed.

By milk-stained floors...

By humming mothers turning away...By those swollen breasts untouched for months because my fear runs deeper than lust...I close my eyes...

"Boss--"

"WHAT?"

Wooshik flinches—paper trembling in his hand as he holds it out at me "T-the deal... it's done."

I glance down.

150 million.

Good.

The room sealed behind me now, silence pressing close like a second skin.

I lean back—eyes closed.Leather creaking under my weight—i drag the last sip down my throat, slow- punishing.

Pants still tight.Mind full of milk on floor… her hum… Lucas hiccuping against her neck—

"Boss—" Wooshik stammers again.

Fuck— this idiot.

"T-They...they raised it to over 165 million, then Why'd you agree on 150?"

My eyes snap open.

What—

Silence.

He looks as dumb as ever—mouth hanging slightly like a sheep. Waiting.

"I...its-" I clear my throat—"It's... just part of business, you won't understand."

His eyes widen.Mouth closes.

Then opens again—like some confused goldfish gasping—before finally nodding fast. Too fast.

Idiot.

I glance at the door—still closed.

Fuck.

Lost over 15 million... because I couldn’t focus. Because my mind was on her—nipple leaking, humming, turning away from me—I push up slowly—coat falling on couch —and walk.

Each step heavier than the last.

The tip brushes against fabric with every stride—Fuck.—hard as sin. Bathroom. Again. Third time today. Fuck—my life is—

Footsteps behind me—light, nervous.

I turn—Wooshik freezes mid-step, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights.

"Why are you following me, bastard?"

He looks dumbfounded—"I—I should be with you always, bos—"

"FOR WHAT—SUCKING MY COCK?"

He gasps.Stumbles back, nearly trips over his own feet.Face pales then flushes red in two seconds.

Idiot.

I turn and keep walking toward the bathroom—the same ritual I’ve been abusing all week.

And it won't be the last.

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