A Flower Plucked by Another
“Welcome!”
“Wow, you guys live in a nice place.”
“It’s an older building! We just remodeled the inside.”
When Kim Geonjae came in, An Hyejeong took the gift from him and laughed brightly.
“Oh! Yoon-jun, it’s been ages!”
“Yeah, yeah, long time no see!”
“Wow, you smell incredible! What’d you cook?”
Then Song Hoon came in behind Kim Geonjae, and for a moment she tilted her head, forgetting even to greet him.
Something’s… different.
Her woman’s intuition told her so. Song Hoon wasn’t the same Song Hoon she had known for years.
He looks like he’s lost some weight too… and there’s something else that’s changed… confidence? I can see it in the way he carries himself.
He was radiating all those hard-to-define things in every inch of his body.
“Wow. Long time no see! You prepared all this?”
“Housewarming gift.”
“Huh? Isn’t this expensive?”
“Come on, we all know each other. I should at least do this much.”
“Man! Still…”
What Song Hoon had prepared was a housewarming gift worth about five hundred thousand won. The moment Yoon-jun received it, he grinned from ear to ear and immediately disappeared into the room.
“Hey, come on now… uh, yeah, come in!”
It was a drinking table set up for New Year’s and housewarming both, and the mood was warm and easy.
“Man, you. Dropping the marriage bomb out of nowhere like that? You know the whole club flipped out, right?”
“The club mood was already terrible back then. How was I supposed to announce it there?”
“Fair enough. Yeah, I guess so.”
All four people at the table had known each other well for more than five years, after all.
“Anyway, congratulations on getting married again.”
“Thanks. I figured not many people would show up since the timing was kind of weird.”
“Heh… of course we had to come.”
Maybe because they were newlyweds, their relationship looked genuinely good.
A gentle, harmless-looking husband. A pretty bride.
But Song Hoon’s eyes were drawn to An Hyejeong’s body before anything else—her legs and calves peeking out from under the table, even the pale beauty of her forearms.
He wanted to slide a hand into those pants and knead her ass.
He wanted to slip his hand under her shirt and squeeze her breasts until they filled his palm.
He wanted to bury his face between her thighs, inhale her scent, taste it, make it his.
“Hey, hey… what’re you spacing out like that for? Does it look that delicious?”
“Huh? Yeah. I’m hungry. Damn, it smells amazing. I came without eating anything.”
“Wait a little longer. It just needs a bit more time.”
The instant Kim Geonjae nudged his shoulder, Song Hoon jerked in alarm, as if his thoughts had been read, and lightly prodded the food with his chopsticks.
“Haha. The olive oil smell is pretty damn good. Isn’t that gambas al ajillo?”
“Exactly. Add that spicy aroma on top of it, and man, it’s gonna be good.”
An Hyejeong was a flower already plucked by someone else, but her fragrance and atmosphere were still intoxicating.
Even if another man had already taken her in hand, her beauty was enough to shake his senses.
In Song Hoon’s head, the fantasy of rolling around with her on a bed refused to stop.
But she belonged to someone else.
Not just like Seol Yeomyeong, who was simply dating someone—she was a married woman.
But… so what if she is…?
Song Hoon licked his lips, slick with oil.
Hadn’t sleeping with Seol Yeomyeong taught him? Someone else’s things tasted better.
And the things you spend a long time cultivating are probably even better when you finally get to eat them.
He had more than enough reason to cultivate this one.
She wasn’t just some girlfriend. She was a wife.
A married woman. Someone else’s property.
A friend. A friend’s wife. A woman he had once had a crush on. And newly married, at that.
Song Hoon suspected An Hyejeong might be the very best thing he could steal from another man.
And then there was the other question.
What rank would An Hyejeong be?
He was curious. Seol Yeomyeong had been C+.
He had no idea what criteria the system used to assign those grades, but you couldn’t even begin to guess without enough samples, could you?
He forced down the cock twitching like it was ready to break free at any second and lifted his glass.
Her face was flushed from the alcohol. The atmosphere was heating up.
And every time he saw An Hyejeong looking a little loose from the drink, his dick stirred again.
“Hey, hey… smoke break, smoke break.”
Kim Geonjae took her husband, Yoon-jun, and headed outside.
“He just won’t quit no matter how much I tell him to.”
An Hyejeong frowned, looking displeased.
“Did he always smoke?”
“Not when I was dating him. But the second we got married, he started right up. I really thought he’d quit for good.”
“Haha. What a determined Korean man.”
With every word, Song Hoon studied An Hyejeong’s expression. What kind of emotion was in it, what kind of look, what kind of feeling.
Everything was information.
“So. Is marriage good?”
“Good? Please. Don’t you ever get married. I’m telling you that as someone who’s been through it all, so listen up.”
At An Hyejeong’s giggle, Song Hoon laughed too. Leaning against the table, her scent tickled his nose.
The glimpse of her cleavage through her shirt was enough to make him swallow hard.
Honestly, if this kept going, he felt like he might just pounce on her right here.
If it were just the two of them, maybe. But in her newlywed home, with her husband about to come back any second?
That was an excellent way to end up in handcuffs.
Still. I’ve got to keep laying the groundwork.
Song Hoon sprang to his feet.
“Uh, where’s the bathroom?”
He thought South Korea had a lot of strangely amusing sides to it, especially when it came to sex—how people were made to feel ashamed of it, how it was treated like a taboo.
Look, look, look, look.
He hadn’t even shown her his hard cock directly; he’d only let her see the tented outline under his clothes.
It was a calculated move, based on the odds that An Hyejeong wouldn’t make a fuss.
He couldn’t even tell Yoon-jun about this kind of thing.
A hard-on from another man? That’d be the kind of thing that starts a married couple’s fight on the spot.
Still, he figured there was nothing wrong with saying she’d seen it. After all, seeing was seeing.
They had known each other long enough to have gone to bathhouses, saunas, and trips together, so she’d seen Yoon-jun’s cock before, too.
“Oh—yeah, um… in there. You can use any of them.”
At An Hyejeong’s suddenly flustered stammer, Song Hoon only grinned and strolled slowly toward the bathroom.
She’d definitely seen it. And it wasn’t the kind of size anyone would easily forget.
W-What the hell.
While Song Hoon was in the bathroom, An Hyejeong fanned herself repeatedly, trying to cool the sudden heat rushing up her body.
Was he really that big?
Not once in her life had she felt like he was big.
Even if they’d known each other for years, how often would she ever have seen him hard?
More importantly, did he get hard looking at me? Crazy. Crazy.
But it was hard to dismiss outright when his thick, bulging shape looked like it could tear through his jeans.
He’s married, isn’t he? Do I still have it in me?
Carefully, An Hyejeong touched the upper part of her chest.
Well, before marriage, he was pretty popular. Hoon probably liked me in his own sneaky way too, didn’t he? He kept denying it to the end, but still.
There was nothing wrong with her married life. It was satisfying. Sex? Not bad.
If all she’d wanted was sex, there had been plenty of men better than her husband from the start.
But if it’s that stretched tight, then it’s probably rock-hard too.
As her lower abdomen twitched while she found herself silently evaluating the thing hidden behind Song Hoon’s clothes, An Hyejeong shook her head and slapped both cheeks.
Smack—
“Damn it. What the hell am I thinking?”
But those thoughts didn’t fade from her mind so easily. An Hyejeong was sure it was the alcohol. Otherwise—no, there was no way. And so, deliberately, she shoved her attention away from Song Hoon and back toward her husband, Yoon-jun.
Once the drinking’s over, I’m doing it with Jun.
To steady herself, she gulped down cold alcohol, and when Song Hoon returned, the heat surged again in her face, forcing her to fan herself repeatedly.
“Too hot? Is the alcohol getting to you? Want me to open a window?”
“Huh? N-No… I’m fine. I think the buzz just hit me all of a sudden.”
Even as she said that, her eyes weren’t on Song Hoon’s face—they were drifting beneath the table.
Now that she thought about it, she’d felt it the moment he first walked in: something really had changed.
“But you really do seem different somehow.”
At her question, her expression a little loose with drink, Song Hoon only smiled.
“Yeah. I’ve changed a lot.”
He’d changed in more ways than one. Besides, it wasn’t like he could show her the changed parts directly.
Of course, he was laying the groundwork for a taste test later.
“What about that girlfriend you were seeing last time? Joo… Juyeon, was it? Right? You still seeing her?”
“We broke up last time. Not long ago, actually.”
“Why? She didn’t seem like a bad person.”
“Pffft.”
Song Hoon grinned.
“She got into black guys.”
“Huh? Wha—”
“Don’t go telling anyone. Like hell I’m the one getting outclassed by some Black bastard. Damn.”
He deliberately slipped a bit of dirty humor into his words, and An Hyejeong’s face reddened as her pupils trembled.
“R-Right, yeah. Good thing you broke up.”
By then, her face was already flushed bright red.
“Exactly. It’s not like I’ve got anything to lose. Honestly, it’s better she got filtered out earlier.”
“Wow. A Black guy, huh? But you weren’t getting outclassed….”
An Hyejeong muttered to herself, then shook her head hard.
“Just drink already.”
For now, this was enough. There was no need to make the guys coming back soon suspicious.
He’d planted the imagination of his huge equipment into An Hyejeong’s head.
There would definitely be another chance. As long as he created a pretext or an opportunity for the two of them to drink together, the rest would take care of itself.