Once Love Begins - Chapter 16. Part 3 - (R-19)

Chapter 16. Part 3

I trembled as if I were cold, even though I wasn’t. I didn’t want to react, but my body betrayed me, responding to the familiar touch. His hands, softer and more tender than usual, traced every part of me as if determined to leave an imprint.

His hand slipped under my pajamas, lingering around my stomach, stroking it incessantly. It felt as though he hesitated for a moment, but then, as if he had resolved himself, he slid his hand under my bra, grasping my br*ast firmly.

I gasped at the pressure of his hand on my bare skin, only then realizing that I had held my breath. My body arched involuntarily and he followed my movement, running his tongue along my shoulder, almost as if he was tasting me. It felt strange as if he was savoring every inch of me, as if he wanted to savor the moment.

The tickling sensation that started at my shoulder spread down between my legs, and I could feel the heat pooling there. I instinctively pressed my legs together, not wanting him to notice. But it seemed he already knew.

His hand slipped between my legs and pressed firmly against the center of my panties as if he understood exactly what was happening to my body. The pressure was enough to make my arched back straighten. I shook my head and tried to push his arm away, but the thin fabric of my clothes offered no barrier. He found the exact spot and pressed with precision.

“You’re only wet here,” he whispered, his voice low as he pointed out the dampness. His hot breath tickled my ear as he spoke.

“Do you like it?” he asked.

I had tried to ignore the constant pressure of his hard p*nis against my backside, but it was becoming impossible. The area where he was pushing felt damp, almost like it was wet from something.

“If you don’t want to, I won’t,” he murmured, nipping gently at my n*pple. His hand continued to explore the area around my br*ast, which didn’t make my heart race like it used to. He alternated between kneading me roughly and then soothingly rubbing my n*pple with his fingers.

Even though he said he wouldn’t continue if I didn’t want him to, his persistent touches suggested otherwise as if he was determined to make me respond differently. The way he pushed himself against me so blatantly made my face flush with heat. His lips moved to my nape, s*cking at the skin with relentless concentration, leaving a warm, tingling sensation in their wake.

My skirt, a single piece, was gradually pushed up over my stomach, exposing the inner part of my thighs. The hand that had been teasing my n*pple now moved down to caress the sensitive skin there. I bit my lip to keep any sounds from escaping.

His fingers pressed against the thin fabric of my panties as if they were about to tear through and slip inside at any moment. The flimsy material, though just fabric, was the only barrier stopping him.

“Mm… mmph.”

A soft moan threatened to escape, so I quickly raised my hand to cover my mouth. His fingers slipped just inside the edge of the cloth before pulling back. I felt a small sense of relief that the panties were still in place, keeping him at bay, at least for now.

The brief sense of relief vanished the moment I heard the sound of his pants being lowered, and my shoulders tensed up. The cold, wet sensation of the head of his p*nis pressing against my backside sent a shiver through me, raising goosebumps on my arms. I could vividly imagine the slick, dripping form of his erection, even though I had never openly looked at it before.

Why was it now that the image came to mind?

My mouth filled with saliva.

“If you don’t want to, just say so. I won’t force you,” he whispered, his voice gentle.

But as soon as his hand touched my body, I realized how wet I already was. I didn’t want to feel this way, yet my body was responding on its own. His touch was softer, more tender than usual, and it made me wonder—had I become so accustomed to him that I couldn’t help but react this way?

I found myself wanting his touch on my bare skin instead of over the fabric. When I parted my legs slightly to give him easier entry, he became bolder in his movements. He quickly pulled my panties off with a rough motion, nearly tearing them, and then slid his hard p*nis between my legs, slowly moving his hips.

His big p*nis rubbed against my labia, moving back and forth. I could feel the heat of his p*nis as the skin stretched and returned with each motion. The tip of him pushed briefly inside before slipping out again, leaving my entrance hole pulsing and leaking fluid.

The wetter the sounds became, the more I bit down on my lip until I tasted blood. I must have bitten too hard.

He pulled me close, holding my waist tightly as he slowly pushed himself inside. The fullness of him stretched me, and I instinctively clenched around him, almost as if trying to hold onto him. His breath grew uneven against the back of my neck.

“Hah. Are you okay?”

“…Yes.”

I squeezed my eyes shut. This was different—slower, softer. Unlike the rough, almost animalistic way he had taken me before, this time he moved with a kind of deliberate tenderness, as if savoring every moment.

I found myself growing impatient, wanting him to move faster, so I subtly rocked my hips. He leaned over me, his body pressing against my back as he turned my face toward his. Our eyes met, and as he leaned in closer, I closed mine. Even his kiss was gentle tonight, a stark contrast to his usual urgency.

With each thrust, my mind grew sharper, more aware of every sensation.

“Hah… Yeonwoo… Yeonwoo… ugh.”

He shivered as he came, his body shaking against mine. Even after he finished, he didn’t pull away. Instead, he continued to gently s*ck on my br*asts, his black hair falling messy over his face. I looked down at him with cold, distant eyes, feeling a strange sense of distance despite our closeness.

He continued to swirl his tongue around my n*pple, s*cking gently. I lifted my eyes to stare at the ceiling, trying to detach myself from the moment.

“Should we go on a trip?” he suddenly asked, catching me off guard.

“A trip?” I echoed, lowering my eyes to meet his.

“Yeah. To see the winter sea.”

The sea…

Do I even like the sea?

I wasn’t sure.

“You didn’t get to see the ocean last time,” he added, likely referring to the time we spent at the hotel, where we stayed inside the whole time, doing nothing but having s*x.

“…Sure,”

I agreed, thinking that maybe the sight of the ocean would help ease the suffocating feeling inside me. But in reality, I felt no excitement. The sea would just be the sea, nothing more.

As I tried to get up to shower, he grabbed my arm and gently pushed me back onto the bed.

“Just sleep.”

“I feel sticky.”

“It’s fine. Let’s just sleep.”

He slipped his arm under my neck, pulling me close as if he were holding someone he truly loved. Lying in his arms, I blinked slowly, my eyes dry and tired.

* * *

Early the next morning, I got up, showered, and began to get dressed when my phone rang from an unknown number.

“Hello…?”

I answered, but before I could even finish speaking, the person on the other end shouted.

“It’s your fault! It’s all your fault!”

The voice on the other end was familiar, and I tightened my grip on the phone.

“I’m going to kill myself. It’ll be because of you! You murderer, remember that!”

It was Heeyoung.

“I’ll curse you for the rest of your life. Even after I die, I’ll haunt you.”

“What on earth do you want from me?” I asked, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside. What had I done that was so wrong?

“You don’t know? If it weren’t for you if only you hadn’t been there!”

She sounded half crazy, laughing one moment and crying the next, then screaming in anger. My heart sank further into the void.

“Because of you, I lost my job! My career is over—completely ruined! If I die, it’ll all be your fault. I’m going to kill myself! I will!”

“Do whatever you want!” I shouted back, unable to hold it in any longer.

I couldn’t listen any longer and abruptly ended the call. When the number called again, I turned off my phone. This was the same person who had fled after seeing me bleeding and begging for help.

“Is something wrong?”

I turned to look at him as he drove.

We were on our way home to change into comfortable clothes before heading out to see the sea.

“You don’t look well. Did we overdo it last night?”

“It’s not that,”

I replied, staring straight ahead. Surely, it was just an empty threat, right? Life isn’t something to play with. I clasped my trembling hands together tightly, trying to push away the dark thoughts creeping in. Don’t think about it. Don’t let it get to you.

Should I tell him now? Why do I feel so uncomfortable?

I bit down on my lip, struggling with the urge to speak up.

“We’re here. Let’s get out,” he said, pulling up to the house.

As he parked the car and got out, I followed suit, closing the car door behind me. Just then, his phone rang from his pocket. My heart raced uncontrollably, and my vision seemed to blur with anxiety.

“Hello?” he answered.

I focused on his lips, hoping—praying—that it wasn’t what I feared.

“Yes, this is me. What? What do you mean?”

His face turned pale and his jaw began to tremble. It wasn’t until he shook my shoulders that I snapped out of my daze.

“What happened?”

My voice was barely a whisper, filled with fear. What if she did it? What if Heeyoung tried to end her life? Panic took over me and I clung to his arm, desperate for answers.

“Heeyoung… she attempted suicide,” he said, his voice hollow.

A bitter laugh escaped me, but it was devoid of any real emotion, more a reaction to the overwhelming situation than anything else.

My body swayed, but he caught me before I could fall.

“Is… is she dead?”

“No, she’s still in surgery.”

“Let’s go to the hospital, quickly.”

He told me to stay home, but I refused. I had wanted her to die, but now that I knew she was fighting for her life, I wanted her to live.

We arrived at the hospital where she was undergoing surgery. Seeing the name “Kim Heeyoung” on the screen outside the operating room made my heart pound with anxiety.

A short while later, he spoke with the doctor and then approached me. I stood up abruptly, taking a step toward him.

“What did they say? Is she okay?”

“Yeah, the surgery went well. She should wake up soon.”

“That’s… that’s good,” I said, relief washing over me as my legs gave out, and I sank to the floor.

Is he worth risking her life over? Or does she hate me so much that she would rather die?

The echo of her voice, blaming me for everything, wouldn’t leave my mind. It lingered, reverberating endlessly.

“Is there a guardian for Kim Heeyoung? The patient is asking for you.”

I knew she had no family. He hesitated in front of the hospital room door, and I realized it was because of me.

“Go in,” I said.

“…Yeah,” he replied but still didn’t move to open the door.

“It’s okay, go see her. I’ll head home.”

“I’ll be quick. Let’s go together after.”

I nodded, my lies smooth and convincing enough to ease his concerns. His tense expression softened as he finally pushed the door open and entered the room. I stood there silently watching him go in, my eyes lingering on the closed door for a long time.

I stood in the silent hospital corridor, staring down at my toes. The quiet was suffocating—I’ve always hated silence.

Suddenly, a woman’s voice pierced the silence, her screams cutting through the air and stinging my ears.

“How could you do this to me? You should have let me die!”

Her voice, filled with anger and pain, echoed in the hall, making the quiet even more unbearable.

“Just because you’re here doesn’t mean your guilt disappears.”

“Aaaah! I’m going to die! I’ll kill myself right in front of her!”

The thought that Heeyoung might come out of the room at any moment and kill me filled me with fear. I stumbled backward, clutching my neck with trembling hands.

I couldn’t breathe.

I couldn’t breathe at all.

Her threats of dying sounded to me like threats of killing.

My vision was blurred, painted red with blood. No matter how much I wiped my hands, the blood wouldn’t go away. My ears throbbed with sharp pain. Hah. Hah.

I stumbled, struggling to keep my balance, and turned around.

Grandfather.

I need to go to my Grandfather.