Grind-to-Cash System: Buy SSS Skills to Spam them Infinitely with Cash-Chapter 44 - Difference Between a Man and a Woman

Her voice didn’t rise.

It didn’t accuse.

It just stayed there—low, almost breathless—curling against my skin like smoke from a dying flame.

I flinched, just slightly, at the sudden mention of her mother and that generalized view of men.

But she didn’t move. Her arms stayed around my neck, her thighs still spread, her weight still pinning me in place, with the full softness of her hips bearing down.

Warm.

Heavy.

Alive.

Her cheek pressed into my shoulder, lips close—almost brushing my ear now. Her voice came again, quieter. Slower.

"But maybe... maybe it’s not your fault."

The words caught me off guard.

I blinked. Breathing shallow. Frozen beneath her body, her warmth, her scent of sea salt and skin and something almost too human to name.

"...Maybe men are just built that way. Visually triggered. Always reacting first. Always wanting first. Always needing to feel... before you feel."

She paused.

I felt her fingers curl behind my nape, gently twisting into my hair—tightening like she needed to ground herself.

"But we women..." she murmured, throat trembling. "We’re different. Even when we get aroused... even when our bodies are screaming for touch, our minds... they still ask questions."

Her breath trembled against my ear.

"Why now? Why him? Why this moment? What does this mean?"

I said nothing.

Couldn’t.

Her weight was still crushing my cock, still making me throb so hard I thought I’d explode—but all of that was fading now. Melting beneath the sound of her voice. novelbuddy.cσ๓

A woman’s voice.

Tired. Intimate. Wounded in a way only someone who’s loved too deeply can be.

"You think it’s just nipples and the spot between our legs, don’t you?" she whispered, with a breath of bitter amusement. "Like those two places make us more sensitive. More desperate. More willing."

She shifted slightly—her thighs tightening, that dress riding up as her hips sank an inch lower.

I gasped, softly.

Her ass molded around me now—my cock crushed beneath her, soaked with precum and heat and need. But she didn’t move for pleasure. She didn’t grind or tease.

She just stayed there.

Letting the contrast burn between us.

"But you forget," she whispered. "It’s not our bodies that stop us from giving in..."

She lifted her head, eyes glowing dull amber now—like fading sunlight behind storm clouds. No seduction in them. No tease. Just quiet, complicated truth.

"It’s our hearts."

Silence.

Then—

"I could feel everything too, you know," she said softly. "From the moment you sucked on my chest... when your tongue touched me... when your finger rubbed between my lap..."

Her voice cracked.

"I felt it. More than you’ll ever know. My nipples still ache. My thighs... my insides still tremble like you’ve left echoes behind."

My breath hitched.

But her voice turned quiet again.

"And still... I stopped."

She stared at me.

Not angry.

Not blaming.

Just... waiting for me to understand.

"That’s the difference, isn’t it?" she whispered, lashes lowering. "Men feel through skin. Women feel through the silence after. When the hands leave. When the eyes look away. When we’re left alone with the memory."

Her hand lifted—traced my jaw.

Soft.

So gentle I wanted to cry.

"Women don’t stop because we don’t want it... we stop because we need something more first. Something we can’t get if you’re already gone in the mind. If you’re just doing it out of hunger."

I felt her words stab into me.

Not cruelly.

But like a knife made of understanding.

"Even with two erogenous zones... even with breasts that ache when you kiss them, and a core that gets wet from the idea of someone loving us—we still resist. Not because we’re less aroused..."

She leaned in.

Her lips pressed to my ear. Soft. Tender. Final.

"...But because our emotions are stronger than the arousal."

The silence that followed was deafening.

I couldn’t move.

Not from fear.

Not from lust.

But from something heavier. Something fuller.

Her truth pressed down harder than her weight.

And for the first time that night—maybe in forever—I realized just how little I understood a woman.

She slowly pulled back—eyes glowing. Not from heat.

From pain.

And strength.

And restraint.

Her hands slid from my chest.

She whispered, almost inaudibly:

"...So if you want me... then hold me in your heart before you hold me in your arms."

I didn’t move.

Didn’t even blink.

Her weight was still on me—warm, soft, pressing against all the places that made me ache—but my mind wasn’t there anymore. Not fully. Not after what she’d said.

So honest.

So damn raw.

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my eyes on her face, but my hand had already moved without thinking—slipping lower, fingers dragging out from between her cheeks with a slow, wet pull.

She flinched, just a little, hips tightening around me.

But I didn’t tease. Didn’t thrust.

I just pulled my hand away and scratched my chin awkwardly, voice low.

"...I thought you’d enjoy my length," I muttered, glancing away. "It’s... big."

She blinked at me.

"Is it?" she asked, genuinely confused.

She looked down, and for a second, it almost felt like she was trying to figure it out right there. Like she wanted to understand, but didn’t have a clear answer.

Even though earlier... she couldn’t even wrap her fingers around it. Even though it had looked twice the length of her hand.

She knew. She had to.

But the way she said it... it wasn’t fake. It wasn’t mocking.

It was honest confusion.

That threw me.

Made my brow twitch.

I looked at her, half annoyed, half embarrassed.

"Lady," I said, trying to hold onto my pride. "You do know I’m above average, right? Like—well above. Women like that. Don’t they? I’ve heard ’em say it all the time. ’Size matters’ and all that."

Her reply was flat. Calm.

"Do they?"

Just that.

Like she’d never even thought about it before.

I stared.

"You don’t know?"

She looked at me like the answer was obvious.

"I’ve never seen a man naked before," she said quietly. "So how would I know?"