Koo stretched lazily on the king-size bed, the satin sheets sliding off her flawless white skin. Morning light poured in through the sheer curtains, glistening against the curves of her breasts that threatened to spill out of the flimsy nightie she wore. Even at home, she couldn’t help dressing like a slut—lace straps, barely-there panties, lips glossed pink.

But her fiancé, Suho, didn’t even glance her way. He was already sitting at the edge of the bed in his crisp shirt and glasses, focused on his laptop. Numbers, charts, business proposals—his world was always wrapped in neat little spreadsheets.

“Breakfast ready?” he asked flatly, still typing.

Koo rolled her eyes. “I’ll make it.”

She padded off to the kitchen, her ass jiggling under the thin fabric. She knew how men usually stared at her, how they drooled when she bent down. But Suho wasn’t like that. He was handsome, yes, but cold. Strict. The engagement was her family’s decision, not hers. And though Suho cared for her in his own way, it wasn’t the kind of love—or lust—her body craved.

Over breakfast, he barely looked up. “Your skirt yesterday was too short. Next time, wear something proper.”

Koo smirked, sipping her juice. “But you’re the only one who saw me.”

“I don’t want others seeing,” he muttered. “You’re mine.”

That word—mine—made her shiver, but not in the way she wished. Suho’s idea of ownership was keeping her cooking, cleaning, and behaving like the perfect housewife. He liked when she kept her long hair tied neatly, when she didn’t wear too much makeup, when she stayed inside. Even her pussy, her most private treasure, wasn’t hers to style.

Suho hated the idea of her shaving. “It looks childish,” he’d told her once. “I like it natural.”

So now, even though Koo secretly missed the smooth, bare feel she once kept just for Tae, she trimmed carefully, leaving it neat but never hairless—exactly how Suho liked. Every time she looked at herself in the mirror after a shower, she remembered Tae’s hungry gaze, the way he used to spread her open and bury his face in her freshly-shaven pussy, groaning about how sweet she tasted. The memory made her thighs press together, even as she dutifully trimmed to Suho’s preference.

That night, Suho finally slid into bed beside her. Koo, in a sheer lingerie set, traced her fingers over his chest, biting her lip. “Baby…” she whispered, hoping maybe tonight he’d fuck her properly.

He sighed, set his glasses aside, and rolled on top of her. His kisses were quick, mechanical. His cock was already hard, pressing against her thigh. Koo spread her legs wide, moaning softly, trying to make it hotter, dirtier. But Suho didn’t bother with her breasts, didn’t touch her clit, didn’t lick her like she loved. He pushed into her wetness, groaned, and started thrusting at a steady, fast pace.

Koo clutched the sheets, arching her back, begging her body to respond. She wanted to feel fireworks, wanted to squirt like she used to with Tae. But within minutes, Suho shuddered and came with a low grunt, collapsing on top of her.

She was still aching, unsatisfied, her pussy clenching around nothing.

“Goodnight,” Suho murmured, rolling off her.

Koo stared at the ceiling in silence, her fingers twitching with the urge to finish herself off. But she didn’t. She bit her lip hard, swallowing her moans.

Because in her head, she wasn’t thinking about Suho at all.

She was thinking about Tae.

The way he used to grab her ass so roughly, the filthy words he whispered, the way he wouldn’t stop until she squirted over and over again. She could almost hear his deep voice calling her a slut, could almost feel his tongue circling her clit until she screamed.

Her pussy throbbed.

She missed him. More than anything.

And lying next to the man her family chose, Koo realized her slutty heart still belonged to the one man she could never have—her poor, rough, sinful ex.