Chapter 4

Looking closely, he saw a round outline. Inside, a bit of flesh was tucked away. Her n*pple hadn’t emerged, instead buried inward. To have even her pleasure points hidden deep within her body felt uniquely like her, and he sighed. At the same time, a low desire to awaken her pure body rose hotly within him.

Fortunately, he had heard of the solution. It was simple: gently stroke the area, coaxing it with pleasure, then draw it out with lips and tongue. He gladly served her in this way.

Her softly rising and falling br*ast was warm and tender. The skin against his cheek was so soft, he thought he could die with his head buried there. When he pressed his ear to her chest, the small, pounding heartbeat made him feel sentimental, almost tearful.

With a heart overwhelmed, he took her red peak into his mouth. She shivered slightly. Stroking her trembling body with care, he persistently drew out the hidden flesh.

He sucked in the rosy ar*ola, gently chewing the round flesh tucked inside. Sharpening his tongue like a claw, he dug and sucked it out.

Her fragrant ivory br*ast trembled at the unfamiliar sensation. He would tease her peak, then at times press his ear to her soft chest, loving the faster heartbeat.

He regretted having only one mouth. There were so many places to worship: her soft lips, her flushed cheeks, her shy, hidden peak. Lost in the sweetness of her skin, he nearly forgot what he was doing.

When his jaw grew sore, the round tip finally poked out. Not wanting to lose it, he pinched it lightly with his nails. She shivered adorably like a bird.

He gently drew out the tender red flesh. It was the first time her pleasure point had ever emerged, and the sight made his heart race. He leaned in close, memorizing its shape.

It was still immature, smaller than a bean, so delicate and soft that he didn’t dare squeeze it. He had only managed to draw out one side, but he didn’t have the energy to tend to the other.

His heart spun like a wheel. He couldn’t stop his reckless hands. He gripped her neatly gathered knees and parted them. It was the first time she had ever been in such a position, except as a baby—let alone for a man.

Between her Goddess-like elegant legs, red flesh quivered. Oddly enough, he felt relieved—to know that even this noble woman had a place to accept a man.

And to see that it was growing wet for him made his heart pound as if it would leap out.

With trembling hands, he stroked the red folds. At the moist entrance, his fingers passed the closed wings and touched the round pleasure point, making her softly moan.

Her whimpering was so endearing that he couldn’t resist kissing her damp folds. He knew it would give her pleasure, but didn’t know exactly how; he had to find the right spot from her reactions.

It was a night of learning. She taught him everything without a word. He was her greedy student.

He learned that the bean should be tapped gently, like a feather. But once she was ready, a bit of roughness brought even more joy. Scraping the ceiling of her entrance like a hook made her shiver—an interesting discovery.

He learned that a woman’s climax was sweet and sticky. Each time her body arched and stiffened, sweet nectar poured out. Drinking it made him feel drunk, wondering what fruit or fine wine could be sweeter.

She, shivering at her peak, was as enchanting and beautiful as a legendary temptress. Her reddening face, twisting limbs, swaying green pendant, convulsing inner walls, and gushing fluids—he wanted to remember every detail, so his eyes and hands were busy.

Meanwhile, she still slept, oblivious. Her first climax, which she herself wouldn’t remember, was experienced only by him, who had stolen in like a thief. That fact was both frustrating and shamefully satisfying.

Gradually, her body stopped twisting. Sleeping under the ivory moonlight, she looked as noble as ever, as if nothing had happened. The only trace of pleasure on her elegant face was the blush brought on by the Lucdia flower.

As he stroked her flushed cheek, he wondered: if she couldn’t remember it, would her body at least retain the sensation? They say a lotus doesn’t absorb mud even when submerged. Even with her legs spread indecently, she shone like a lotus.

It was an innocent worry. Even a lotus gathers dew.

But at the time, it was a serious concern for him. Even n*ked and held in his arms, she felt like someone forever out of reach—a flower on a cliff.

Lost in gloomy thoughts, he slid a finger inside. Nail. Knuckle. Another knuckle. Ah, the melting softness. The spring-like warmth. The shy tightness. All his worries melted away. Her body, learning a man without knowing, loosened, waiting for him.

He became absorbed in opening her tightly closed entrance. His hands were thicker and larger than most knights’—born to wield a sword, with rough, scarred knuckles. Pushing such a rough hand between her tender flesh made him fear he might break her.

But the real problem wasn’t his fingers. He was already so aroused, he felt he might burst. Seeing himself, he wondered how he could possibly fit into her delicate body.

Narrowing his eyes, he measured her size. Her waist was literally a handful. If he entered her, a third of her would be filled with him.

What helped was the crude advice he’d overheard. He’d heard countless times how to take a maiden. The body was made to accept a man, so patience was key. The words he’d dismissed now gave him courage.

He didn’t want to hurt her. As a thief stealing her body, he couldn’t leave a trace. But it was their first time—for both of them. He wanted it to be as good as possible, with pleasure, not pain.

Between the urge to tear into her and the wish to kiss her gently, the latter barely won out. He barely restrained his rising desire—at least at first.

Unlike his turbulent heart, his fingers pushed in steadily. Her flesh clung tight, snipping away at his fragile self-control. His decision flipped every second.

He drew circles inside her with his buried finger, slowly opening her up. The moisture and her peaceful, pain-free expression told him he was doing it right.

He added his middle finger. Doubling the size made entry much harder. He twisted his fingers in a spiral, slowly pressing deeper. The second knuckle went in easily, but the last was so tight it felt like she might tear.

She bent one knee, tilting toward her folds. She pressed his hand with her thigh, as if to block his intrusion. Her smooth thigh muscles tensed. Even asleep, she tried to resist his touch, but her pitiful struggle only stoked his desire.

He pressed his split fingers into her folds, not holding back. The once-soft flesh clamped down tightly, like sticking fingers into plaster that hardened instantly. He realized the phrase “a woman bites a man” was no metaphor.

The situation was awkward, unable to move either way. She seemed startled too—her pretty face flushed like Lucdia petals, shaking her head in refusal. Her slender body trembled like a wave.

He soothed her everywhere, apologetic and gentle. He kissed her tightly closed lips, massaged her br*ast’s pleasure point, and stroked her soft thighs.

Her entrance loosened slightly. He realized pleasure was the key to melting her tension. Fortunately, by now he knew where she liked to be touched.

He kissed her pulsing neck, gently traced her stiff bean with his fingerprint, and pressed her folds with his palm. He tickled her sides and stroked her smooth thighs, pouring out pleading caresses.

Her sweet breath grew faster, and finally her back arched in climax. The flesh clamping his fingers convulsed, spitting out sticky nectar. He remembered being amazed at how her entrance loosened so gently, just enough for his fingers to move in and out.

Now able to move his fingers, he slid them back and forth. A pretty, wet sound echoed. When she bit his hand, her tight flesh clung to his fingertips. The pressure turned his nails white.

He drew bigger circles inside her, lost in the fun of widening her body like a child with a new toy. He spread his fingers like scissors, stirring until she showed no sign of pain.

With excitement, he added his ring finger. That made it about the size of an average man. His fingertips were sucked in through the tight entrance.

And he was amazed at what happened. What clamped down so hard on one finger now easily accepted three, swirling around his intrusion comfortably.