As he comes, he fills me up in a whole new way—his warm cum flooding me. His hips jerk spasmodically and his muscles protrude from how tense they are, then he’s practically limp.
He pulls back, strands of unruly dark hair in his face, his chest heaving and gleaming with sweat from our impromptu exercise.
I’m so dazed all I can do is lie where he’s left me and lazily smile. My body’s buzzing and my pussy’s throbbing and heavy from my wetness and his. But it all feels so unspeakably good that I’d be happy to never move again.
Jin shoves hair back from his forehead and then moves forward to drop a kiss on my mouth.
“What’s that smile for, Tokki-ya?”
“I came twice in a row. Most women would agree that’s reason enough to smile,” I quip.
“I aim to please,” he replies in his dry sort of humor.
My smile only widens as I look up at him with brows raised. “You mean you aim to impregnate is more like it. You sure you weren’t trying to get me pregnant all over again somehow? I mean, I alreadyampregnant, but I wouldn’t put it past you to try anyway.”
Humor flashes in his dark gaze as his hand returns to my growing belly. “So you figured out my scheme. You caught me, Tokki-ya.”
11.Jin
After a few weeksof playing hide and seek, we’re able to track down Goh Seung-ho to the streets of Gunsan.
The man lives like a true nomad—hopping from city to city under a rotating list of aliases, always one step ahead of his debts and the people he owes. His vices have made him a pariah always on the run.
Alcohol. Gambling. Prostitutes.
He indulges in them all like a true broken man who has nothing left to lose.
But we finally found his latest temporary housing.
He’s staying in a love motel on the outskirts of the small industrial city. It’s a place that’s a few won in cost, renting rooms by the hour instead of the night. The clerks don’t ask questions, and the building is a faded pink eyesore, its neon sign flickering weakly in the morning gloom.
The parking lot is nearly empty except for a few rusted cars and a stray dog nosing through overturned garbage.
Park Min-gyu walks beside me as we approach the entrance, his eyes focused and determined despite the early hour.
We left Busan before dawn to make this trip, and we need to be back by early afternoon.
Today, I learn the gender of my baby.
I made Monroe a promise, and I intend to keep it. But first, I need answers.
The clerk at the front desk is a bored-looking woman with a cigarette smoldering between her fingers and lipstick-stained teeth. She barely glances up as we enter.
It’s not until Min-gyu reaches over the counter and grabs the registration book that she shouts at us in Hangugeo.
“Room 208,” Min-gyu reads aloud.
I snatch the keys from the pegboard that’s marked with the same digits and turn to leave.
“Yah!” she shouts, leaping up from her chair. “What do you think you’re doing?!”
But we simply ignore her, striding out of the office and heading toward the metal staircase. We take them two at a time, making quick work of them until we’re on the second-floor landing.
The entire motel reeks of stale cigarette smoke and mildew. The exterior hallway has more lightbulbs out than working, with the few that do flickering every few seconds.
We stop in front of Room 208 and kick the door in.
Min-gyu’s boot crashes against the wood and sends it busting inward with a splintering crack.
