Extra: Yandere Milfs Obsessed with me!-Chapter 60: I Hate Myself When I Think of You (2) [+18]

She closed her eyes, as if to escape the memory.

Everything had happened so suddenly. Kaiser had approached her, tilted his head, and his gaze had fixed directly into hers with a destabilizing intensity. Then his lips had touched hers.

The contact had been firm, direct, without ambiguity. The surprise had been so violent that her heart seemed to stop before beating at a frantic rhythm. She had pushed him away almost instinctively, out of a defensive reflex, but the sensation of his mouth against hers persisted, like an indelible imprint.

She brought two fingers to her lips, annoyed to note that they retained a particular sensitivity, as if slightly heated.

"Why did I not react with more firmness?"

"Why did I not raise my voice to express disapproval?"

"Even as a woman and duchess, I am not worthy... Why did I not show the cold dignity expected of a duchess?"

When she reopened her eyes, her reflection in the mirror did not lie. She had been deeply disturbed.

She clenched her jaws, determined.

She refused to become that type of woman: a wife who seeks to recapture her youth in illicit adventures, a noble who betrays her husband for fleeting excitement, a person who breaks her honor and that of her house out of weakness.

She shook her head energetically, splashing water around her.

Kaiser possessed a dangerous quality. Not physical danger, but rather a particular way of looking at people. That imperturbable calm, that quiet assurance, that way of expressing himself without the slightest hesitation. He had used none of the conventional seduction techniques. Yet he had managed to breach her defenses without her realizing it in time.

She felt an unpleasant contraction in her abdomen.

Her right hand, resting on the enameled edge of the bathtub, slowly slid, almost despite herself, toward her chest. Her fingers first brushed the pale curve of her left breast, then moved to the right. The tips of her fingers grazed the nipple, already hardened and brown, rising to the surface of the hot and scented water.

"Hmm..." A breath escaped her. Then, lower, charged with shame: "Kaiser..."

The name came out in a barely audible murmur, lost in the steam.

She immediately bit her lower lip, so hard that it left the white mark of her teeth.

"He is the same age as Kris... my own son," she whispered to the foamy water, her face red with confusion. "I cannot... It would be immoral, monstrous. Perhaps if he were older, more... No! Stop, Dyana. What are you thinking?"

"I am thirty-five years old and mother of two children.... Wife of Randal Donoghan, an upright, respectful man who never raises his hand against me. I should not ~Hmm~ Kaiser.. It’s Yes ~Kaiser! Hmmmm, yes Hmmm, I want you..."

And yet.

Her hand, heavy with guilt, descended lower, as if pulled by a thread. It brushed the soft and slightly flabby skin of her belly, where the marks of her pregnancies persisted, then lower still, until brushing the wet hairs and the humid heat between her thighs. She was already soaked. Well beyond the wetness of the bath.

"Aah..." Her fingers found her swollen clit almost by instinct. An electric shiver ran up her spine.

"I must not... I am a married woman..." she breathed, but her voice trembled, without any conviction.

She closed her eyes tighter, squeezing her eyelids. The image of Kaiser imposed itself on her: his sideways smile, arrogant and young, the way he had tilted his head in greeting on the day of the funeral, as if he saw through her duchess armor, as if he already knew she would end up thinking of him, alone, in her bath.

*Frot* A first slow, hesitant circle with the tip of her index finger.

*Frot* A second, more pressed, more precise.

"Mmmph..." Her pelvis lifted slightly, breaking the water’s surface. Her toes clenched against the slippery porcelain bottom of the bathtub.

"Kaiser..." she moaned again, abandoning all restraint in her mind.

She imagined his hands, larger, covering hers, guiding her fingers. She imagined his mouth, younger, more demanding, on her throat, on her breasts, then descending, much lower... She imagined his body, hard and muscled from training, pressed against hers, crushing her.

Her digital movements became faster, more frantic. *Frotfrotfrot.* Her breathing became short, jerky, a high-pitched gasp. "Hah... Hah..."

She brought her other fist to her mouth and bit it to stifle the cry rising. A long muffled moan, "Mmmmmph!", came from her throat.

One last intense circle, pressed to the point of bordering on pain, and she came. Her body arched violently, her buttocks and lower back leaving the water for a moment before falling back in a big splash. Her eyes opened wide, staring at the vaulted ceiling without seeing it, while tears of pleasure and burning shame rose to the edge of her eyelids.

The agitated water gently subsided around her, forming new calmer waves.

She remained motionless for a long time, breathing short, chest pounding, cheeks burning as if she had a fever. The heat of the orgasm dissipated, leaving room for cold lucidity.

"I must not..." she murmured one last time, voice broken.

But deep inside her, in the most secret and shameful part of her soul, she already knew. It would not be the last time the image of Kaiser, this young man with the troubling smile, would come to haunt her.

And she knew, with a certainty that chilled her, that it would not be the last time her hand, alone in the hot water or in the darkness of her bedroom, would descend to furtively seek a pleasure she no longer had the right, as a wife and mother, to desire.

If he devoted most of his time to training in lance handling and duchy affairs, Randal showed her constant respect. Their union had never been passionate, but it had never been toxic either. She had accepted the terms of this life, made of duty and tranquility. She had found her place, her role.

So why, that evening, had her heart wavered so violently for another? Why did this guilty heat still flood her body, long after the bathwater had cooled?

"I must make a decision!"

If Kaiser tried to renew his approach, and if she found herself isolated in his presence again, Dyana knew how the situation would evolve. She doubted her ability to resist a second time.

Under the hot water of the bathtub, Dyana clenched her fists with such force that her knuckles whitened. She had to make a firm decision.

She frowned, sitting up abruptly in the bathtub. Water streamed down her back and shoulders, but this physical sensation failed to distract her tormented mind. Mentally, she listed the rules she would now have to follow without fail:

First, she would avoid any situation that could place her alone in his company.

Second, their exchanges would be strictly limited to a professional framework.

Third, she would protect her marriage with absolute vigilance.

Fourth, she would maintain both physical and emotional distance.

A few minutes later, she emerged from the bathtub. Water dripped along her hips and legs as she wrapped herself in a thick cotton towel. She dried herself with methodical gestures, though her mind remained preoccupied with her inner conflicts.

After slipping on a simple linen robe, she noted that her black hair, weighed down by humidity, formed disheveled strands on her shoulders.

She stood one last time in front of the mirror to examine her reflection. Though she displayed resolute determination, her amber eyes betrayed persistent agitation. This vulnerability she detected in them was deeply unpleasant to her.

She took a deep breath and firmly addressed her image: "I must no longer consider him as a man."