Milf Hunter: Seducing And Taming Beauties

Chapter 577: Yuko’s Broken Confession

I ignored her struggle entirely, lifting a bite of food to her lips with deliberate slowness. The scent of miso and rice curled between us, earthy and familiar. "Here," I murmured, my smirk sharp enough to cut. "Let me feed my angry wife." My thumb brushed her lower lip, just barely, as I added, "Open up."

Yuko’s thoughts were a tempest.

[He’s so gentle sometimes... And then he does this—bullying me, embarrassing me, in reality and in my dreams! Her nails bit into her palms. Does he even realize how much it hurts to want something you can’t have?]

But beneath the frustration, something warmer flickered—something dangerous.

[Is this what it’s like to be taken care of? To be... cherished? ]

She hesitated.

Her lips parted the barest fraction, just enough for me to slip the bite between them. The flavor exploded on her tongue—rich, savory, comforting—and for a heartbeat, the world narrowed to the heat of my fingers against her chin, the weight of my gaze holding hers captive.

[This... doesn’t feel so bad after all.]

The thought slithered in, insidious.

[What if this weren’t a dream? What if this were real? What if I could wake up every morning to this—his voice, his touch, the way he looks at me like I’m the only thing in the room worth seeing?]

Her eyes widened in horror.

[NO.]

The denial was a blade twisting in her chest.

[What am I thinking?! Yuko, get a grip! Jack is Haruna’s boyfriend! He loves her!]

Her breath came faster, shallower.

[Am I really standing here, letting myself imagine—? Am I that selfish? That terrible?]

The shame was a physical weight, crushing.

I pinched her nose lightly, snapping her out of her spiral. "Stop overthinking," I ordered, my voice a velvet command. "Eat."

Yuko glared up at me, but the fire in her eyes had dimmed to embers—more smoke than flame, more exhaustion than defiance. She obeyed, taking another bite in silence, her shoulders still rigid, but the fight draining out of her like air from a punctured lung. The tension in her frame wasn’t anger anymore; it was something far more fragile, something that trembled on the edge of surrender.

Haruna finished her breakfast with a satisfied sigh, the legs of her chair scraping against the tile as she pushed it back. "Sister," she said, her grin unapologetically teasing as she stood, "I’m going to meet Hannah. Try not to combust from embarrassment while I’m gone."

There was no malice in her tone—just the easy, affectionate ribbing of someone who’d long since accepted Yuko’s flustered reactions as part of the family’s rhythm. As if Yuko’s blushes were as familiar and comforting as the morning sun.

Kasumi stood as well, smoothing her skirt with the practiced elegance of someone who’d spent a lifetime perfecting grace. "Hannah, I’m coming with you. Julie and I have that shopping date, remember? Let’s go together." Her gaze flicked to Yuko, lingering just a second too long—knowing.

It was the kind of look that made Yuko’s stomach twist, as if her mother could see every traitorous thought unraveling inside her, every secret she’d buried beneath layers of pride and duty.

Yuko watched them leave, her fingers twisting into the fabric of my shirt, knuckles white.

[This isn’t real.]

The words were a lifeline, a mantra, a desperate attempt to cling to something solid in a world that felt like it was dissolving around her.

[None of this is real.]

But the way my thumb traced idle circles on her hip—that felt real. The way her heart stuttered when I leaned in, my breath warm against her ear—that felt real. The way her body, traitorous and hungry for something she’d never let herself admit, melted into mine—that was the most real thing she’d ever known.

[But... what if it were?]

The thought slithered into her mind, dangerous and sweet.

She looked up at me, her gaze searching, her thoughts shifting like sand beneath the tide.

[Maybe in this dream... I can feel what love feels like.]

The realization was a slow, aching unraveling.

[And Jack loves me... here. So maybe I should just live this life... with him. Here. In this dream.]

The thought was terrifying. Liberating.

I kept feeding her, bite by bite, until her plate was empty. The silence between us wasn’t uncomfortable—it was charged, thick with everything neither of us dared to say. Then, so softly it was almost lost beneath the hum of the morning, I heard her voice:

"Jack..." Her fingers tightened in my shirt. "Do you love me?"

I looked down at her, my expression unguarded for once, raw and honest. "Yeah," I said, my voice rough with something that wasn’t just affection—it was possession, devotion, a quiet kind of awe.

"I love my wife, Yuko. I love how she gets angry. I love to see her embarrassed face. I love the way she tries to hide how much she wants this—wants me." My hand slid up to cup her cheek, my thumb brushing away the tear she hadn’t even realized had fallen. "I love all of her. Even the parts she thinks are too sharp, too broken."

Yuko’s breath hitched.

Then, before I could react, she kissed me.

It wasn’t hesitant. It wasn’t shy.

It was hers—fierce and sudden, her lips crashing against mine with a desperation that stole the breath from my lungs. "I love you too..." she whispered against my mouth, her voice trembling with the weight of the confession.

She pulled back just enough to meet my gaze, her face flushed crimson, her eyes wide with shock—she had initiated it. She had crossed that line, even if it was just a dream, even if none of it was real.

But it felt real.

Her expression crumpled, the tears spilling over as she lowered her head, her voice breaking. "Jack... there’s something... I have to tell you."

I didn’t press. I didn’t rush. I just waited, my hand still cradling her face, giving her the time she needed to gather the shattered pieces of herself.

She took a shuddering breath. Then, in a voice so quiet it was barely more than a whisper, she began to speak.

She told me about Kenzo.

About the blood on her hands.