Milf Hunter: Seducing And Taming Beauties

The silence stretched, thick and heavy. Then, casually, I broke it.

"Yuko…" I tilted my head slightly, studying her. "Are you a lesbian?"

Her entire body went rigid. "What the hell are you talking about?" she snapped, whirling toward me, her dark eyes flashing with indignation. "When did I become a lesbian? Where did you even get that stupid idea?"

I kept my tone light, almost amused. "I don't know. You hate me touching you. I just figured—"

"You figured wrong," she cut in, her voice sharp enough to draw blood. "I'm not a lesbian."

"Then what is it?" I pressed, undeterred. "Androphobia? Fear of men?"

I probed her mind with Telepathy, catching the storm behind Yuko's eyes before her expression twisted—lips curling in raw disgust. "Hmph," she scoffed, her voice dripping with venom. [I've killed hundreds of men. You think I'm afraid of them?] Her eyes burned into mine, fierce and unyielding. "I just find the idea of them touching me repulsive."

I held her gaze, my voice softening just enough to make it clear I wasn't mocking her. "So it's not fear. It's disgusting."

"Yes," she bit out, her fingers clenching into fists. "Happy now? You've got your answer."

I exhaled slowly, my expression shifting to something more serious. "I'm sorry, Yuko," I said, my voice low, sincere. "I don't know what you've been through… but if you ever want to talk about it, I'm here."

Yuko's entire body tensed, her breath coming faster, her chest rising and falling with sharp, uneven movements. "What the fuck are you talking about, bastard?" she hissed, her voice trembling with something that wasn't just anger. "Why the hell would I need your help? Why would I ever trust you?"

But her thoughts were a whirlwind of contradiction, her mind racing with memories she'd buried deep. [This bastard… does he know? Does he understand anything?] Her chest tightened as she looked at me, really looked at me.

There was something in my eyes—something that made her stomach twist. [Why do I see… pity? And care? Like my mother…] The comparison struck her like a blade, sharp and unexpected. [She looked at me the same way when I told her the truth… This bastard… I hate him. I hate him…]

But beneath the fury, beneath the defiance, there was something else—something raw and fragile, something she refused to name. And I saw it.

I saw her. Not the armor, not the anger, but the girl beneath it all, the one who had spent so long fighting alone that she didn't know what to do when someone offered her a hand instead of a weapon.

I didn't push. I didn't smile. I just stood there, close enough that she could feel the warmth of my presence, close enough that she could choose—if she ever wanted to—to lean in.

And for the first time, Yuko didn't pull away.

The silence between us wasn't the kind that fidgeted or filled with nervous laughter. It was alive—a living, breathing thing, pressed down like the oppressive stillness before a storm snaps. The air smelled of damp earth and distant rain, the kind of quiet that didn't just exist but waited, humming with the electric charge of something about to uncoil.

I exhaled slowly, watching the last sliver of sun sink its teeth into the horizon, painting the sky in bruised purples and the bitter orange of a dying day. That's when I saw them—Hannah and Haruna, materializing from the shadows cast by the skeletal trees behind us.

The fading light clung to them like a second skin, outlining Hannah's rigid posture, her face smoothed into something unreadable, a statue carved from ice. But Haruna—Haruna's eyes found us immediately, wide and sharp, her steps faltering just long enough to betray her. A single, telling hesitation.

Yuko's body went rigid beside me, every muscle locking into place like a drawn bowstring. She didn't turn. Didn't so much as twitch.

But I felt the shift in her, the way her breath slowed to something deliberate, her voice dropping to a whisper so low it might've been the wind hissing through the leaves. "They're here."

I let the words settle between us, let the weight of them pull at the corners of my mouth. A smirk, slow and deliberate, curled my lips. "Good," I murmured, my voice a dark thread woven into the quiet. "Let's make sure they remember this."

We didn't look back. Didn't give them the satisfaction of a reaction. Just turned in unison, shoulders squared, and stepped into the café—its warm, golden light spilling over us like a stage curtain rising.

Yuko led the way, her stride sharp and controlled, but I followed just close enough that my presence felt like a shadow she couldn't shake.

My hand hovered near the curve of her ass, fingers spread wide as if I were gripping her, my touch just a breath away from being real. From Haruna's perspective, it would look like I'd claimed her—like Yuko was mine.

Yuko's body tensed, her muscles locking up as she hissed through her teeth, "You're dead, you know that, right?"

I leaned in, my lips brushing the edge of her ear, my voice a low, taunting murmur. "Maybe. But first, let's give them something to remember."

"I swear to god, if you don't move your fucking hand—"

"Or what?" I interrupted, my smirk deepening as I pulled back just enough to meet her glare. "You'll what, Yuko? Cause a scene? Ruin the illusion?"

Her breath came sharp and fast, her voice a venomous whisper. "I'll ruin you."

We slid into the window-side booth, our bodies aligned just right—close enough to sell the lie, far enough to keep it from being real. Yuko's thigh pressed against mine, and for a second, I thought she might actually kick me under the table. But she didn't. Because Haruna was still out there, her eyes glued to us, her expression a mix of shock and something darker.

The waiter arrived, and we placed our orders; the tension between us was thick enough to cut. Yuko took a bite of her burger, her jaw tight, her movements controlled.

But then—there it was. A smear of sauce glistened on her lower lip, thick and tempting. I didn't hesitate. My thumb found the napkin, and I reached out, brushing it against her mouth with a slow, deliberate motion.

Yuko's eyes snapped to mine, her voice a low, dangerous growl. "Don't you dare."

"Too late," I murmured, pulling the napkin back with a smirk. "Now you're perfect."

Her fingers twitched, like she was imagining wrapping them around my throat. "I'm going to make you regret this."