Snatching the Villain’s Precious Princess - Chapter 4

Chapter 4

There was the distinct sound of eyes rolling. Yoo Pado’s hand loosely wrapped around his shaft as he shot Eun Morae a look.

“Scared, aren’t you?”

“No, I’m not.”

“You are scared.”

“I’m not. You’re not even that impressive…”

Even as she spoke, the sound of her swallowing reached her own ears.

Pado’s manhood wasn’t especially grand. Compared to a thigh or even an arm, it was smaller. Her ankle, she decided, might be thicker. A ridiculous comparison—but still, she swallowed again.

Her gaze, drawn by equal parts curiosity and excitement, kept straying to his groin. And each time it did, her face paled a shade further.

She didn’t want to admit it, but the image of that sliding between her legs made fear rise in soft, prickling waves.

The idea of sex with a stranger was revolting. The idea of sex with Yoo Pado was terrifying. The primitive dread made her instinctively take a step back.

“Then I’ll just break through in one go. Come here and get on all fours.”

“What? Do I look like a dog to you?”

“If you don’t want to, then lie back, spread your legs wide so I can see.”

“No!”

“……!”

When Morae’s voice rang sharp and defiant, Pado’s expression darkened. Lips pressed tight, he dragged a hand down his face and exhaled a long, weighted sigh. Anger was plain in the set of his jaw.

“You… get out. I mean it.”

When he finally spoke again, his voice had sunk to the floor—low, flat, and heavy with something ominous.

“Go. Now.”

“Go? After you’ve gone and got that up?”

Her glance flicked toward his erection, the barb deliberate. Veins corded at his neck.

“As you can see, I’m about ready to burst. So if you’re not gonna help me take care of it, leave. I hate people who just dangle bait.”

His temper was edging toward its limit. The fact that he’d gotten hard only made it worse.

He’d stripped to show what he had, but the moment it came time to do anything, she recoiled as if repulsed. It was maddening.

How many times had he told her to go? And yet she lingered—mocking him, no less. He felt as if he were the only one being made a fool of, and the thought burned. The urge to finish himself off just to ease the ache only fueled the fire.

He had the sense that if he coaxed her gently now, maybe even begged, he could have her flat on her back. She’d give in reluctantly, or as if granting him a favor. But that kind of sex… he had no interest in.

The words “Are you in heat?” still rang in his head. Swallowing the urge to spit on the floor, he yanked his robe shut.

“Fine. Go out there and tell them you kicked me aside because you didn’t like me. Just get out.”

“…And if I do go? You’ll call for one of those craft district girls?”

“What’s it to you?”

He stooped to scoop up her dress and bra from the floor and tossed them toward the door.

The air, once strung tight with sexual tension, fractured into something ugly. Morae shook with humiliation, glaring daggers at him.

“Guess it doesn’t matter, as long as she’s got tits. You’re worse than a dog in heat.”

Without looking at her, Pado replied in a flat drawl:

“Yeah, that’s right. I’m a virgin, never even kissed a girl. No family, so I’m starving for love. If there’s a woman who says she wants me, I’ll screw her like a dog.”

This time, the sting felt real.

Even if they were just words thrown out in defiance, each one clawed at her. Starving for love, willing to take anyone who’d have him—every bit of it sat wrong. Because all of it meant that even in that hunger, he had no intention of coming to her.

It wasn’t that Morae wanted romance with him, nor did she crave his love. But being openly dismissed, pushed aside—that stung. Pride like a tower and a sharp streak of possessiveness wouldn’t let it pass.

If he fell in love with a particular woman, that was one thing. That was what love was.

But to say anyone would do it because he was lonely, and then turn from her—whether it was provocation or truth—boiled her blood.

Morae closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath, trying to hold back the tears pressing hot at the edges.

It was ridiculous—staying in that room purely out of pride. Worse still, she’d now cornered herself into a place where she couldn’t back down.

If she walked away now and Pado ended up with “any woman with breasts,” if he went off to the craft district—then her loss would be the kind that lived on in whispers, long and loud.

Because plenty of people had already seen Yoo Pado carrying her off.

The conclusion was clear. She strode past the low-pressure storm that was Pado and flung herself onto his bed. Sprawling diagonally across the unmade sheets, she gathered the blanket in her arms.

“It’s your filthy mouth that pisses me off. I never said I wouldn’t do it.”

It wasn’t coyness, but with her arms and legs wrapped around the blanket, she was a picture.

A reluctant allure, a quiet invitation—enough to splash water over the fire in his chest. Pado, hearing the careful but unmistakable meaning in her words, felt his anger loosen.

Arms folded, he murmured under his breath—

“You’re going to end up whining that it hurts.”

“At first, maybe. Don’t you have the confidence to make me feel good?”

“I’m going to play with your thighs, your breasts, and your ass until they’re completely worn out—touching, squeezing, biting.”

“Don’t get them too wet. And don’t leave marks.”

“No.”

Yoo Pado’s refusal came sharp and immediate, like a blade. There was still a trace of resentment in his tone—or perhaps it was just the same old game of getting under Eun Morae’s skin.

“I don’t sleep with women who hate that. Or maybe I should say, I don’t sleep with girls too prim to handle it.”

“…Whatever. Play with my ass if you want.”

Eun Morae grumbled, knees shifting under the blanket wedged between her legs. Out of nowhere, his hand landed, kneading her backside like dough.

“Ngah!”

The strange little cry escaped her before she could stop it, her face burning red. His palms, calloused in spots, pressed and molded her evenly.

With both hands full of her soft, overflowing curves, Yoo Pado moved over her. He turned her onto her back, fingers catching the edge of her panties.

Slowly. Deliberately. Giving her the chance to kick him away and run.

But she didn’t run.

She drew her knees closer together, toying with the ends of her hair.

Lying back, her chest spread wider, part of it hidden behind her hair. The rest—unhidden—flushed a deeper red than the rest of her skin. Not only her cheeks or the tips of her ears; every tender part of her body was warmed with color.

She didn’t run. She didn’t roll off the bed. She stayed, quietly waiting for him.

It wasn’t as if she was pulling him in or making the first move, but for Eun Morae, this was her grandest temptation—and her permission.

“You’re going to ruin yourself one day because of that pride of yours.”

Yoo Pado let out an exasperated breath.

Yet he didn’t leave. He didn’t push her off the bed, didn’t tell her to get out.

“Let’s see who wins.”

Pushing his damp bangs back from his forehead, he shed his robe. His forehead caught the light for a moment—along with the solid body and dangerous length the robe had been hiding.

A swallow echoed through the room. Whose it was, neither could tell.

***

An inexperienced man can be clumsy.

And clumsy, in this case, meant dragging out the touches to her breasts and thighs far beyond when she wanted him inside.

As promised, Yoo Pado’s hands roamed wherever he pleased, indulging himself. His touch wasn’t about tender prelude—it was about his own hunger.

Any claim that her body wasn’t his type was laughable now; her chest bore faint bite marks and smudges of wet where his mouth had lingered. From there he worked his way down, savoring even the sensitive inside of her thighs and her sides, before finally parting her legs.

The folds between her thighs, layer upon layer, opened to the light—and to his gaze.

It was a sight few had ever seen, if anyone at all. Her mouth went dry, but between her legs, dampness was pooling. It made her dizzy.

“Oh, it’s moving. Is that you?”

Yoo Pado watched her labia pulse and shift, tightening and loosening to reveal pale skin and flushed inner flesh in turn.

Without waiting for her answer, he brought his tip to her entrance—pressing that impossibly large shape against her small, trembling opening.

She couldn’t see it, but the pressure alone told her just how big he was. His head rubbed not only her inner lips but pushed firmly against her outer ones as well.

“S-Slowly…”

“Mm.”

Could that really fit? Would it tear her apart? Fear crowded her thoughts. But in the next instant, fear was swept away.

With a sudden push, his length slid in, spreading her walls wide. Her insides pressed and shifted, a dizzying ache washing through her.

“Ah, ah, ah, ngh…”

It wasn’t what she’d expected. Not a ripping pain, but the shock of something vast filling her, as if she’d been pinned in place from within.

Not tearing—anchored. The sensation was so strange, so unlike anything else, that it stole her breath. She slapped the bed lightly, gasping.

“Hh—hic—ngh!”

“Does it hurt?”

“N-No…”

There was no stabbing pain, only the unbearable pressure from deep inside, an itch that drove her mad. Tears stung her eyes.

Without realizing, she lowered her lifted legs to the floor and straightened her back.

Yoo Pado spread her knees wider, his palms planted firmly there and murmured the words of a devil.

“Then I’ll put it all the way in.”