Haruto positioned himself over Zenzai, casting a glance down at Shiruko, who was still lost in the lingering tremors of her climax.
He didn't know how long they'd continue, but he could already feel the exhaustion creeping in. Yet, the thrill of it all was undeniable.
'No regrets,' he thought with a grin, locking eyes with Zenzai. 'The old me would die to be here with three incredible women at once.'
There was something captivating about her dark eyes, a depth that drew him in. She embodied a certain elegance that reminded him of a traditional beauty.
"You're like a Yamato Nadeshiko," he murmured, unable to hold back the thought.
Zenzai raised an eyebrow, a soft laugh escaping her. "If I were truly a Nadeshiko, I'd never be cheating on my husband."
"True," he agreed with a chuckle.
Yamato Nadeshiko—the personification of the ideal Japanese woman, known not only for her beauty but her inner grace and loyalty.
