Chapter 6

It hadn’t been long since Beatrice swallowed the liquid, but she soon felt a tingling sensation below. Her mind heated up.

Beatrice steadied her quickening breath and crookedly smiled. She had crafted this for instant effect, and, as expected, she excelled at even these skills.

Herbalism was a kind of sorcery, after all.

She was talented in miscellaneous arts, wasn’t she?

Her vision swam. Beatrice realized she was giggling, and that her hips were moving slowly while her hands rested on Erich’s shoulders.

A whirlwind of emotions surged through her.

The absurdity of this situation, a faint resentment toward the fate that created this scenario, a thirst to become a mess as quickly as possible, a near-violent urge to devour the man before her.

What else was there?

Ah, yes. Annoyance toward the damned Ivory Tower. If the Ivory Tower had a physical form, she’d have punched it. Too bad.

Despite doing nothing, fl*ids spilled from below. Beatrice grabbed the man’s hair greedily and tilted his head back. His prominent Adam’s apple became even more exposed. She bit it, then moved her lips.

She left a trail of bite marks on his pale neck, and felt a little relieved.

To an outsider, these marks might seem like possessiveness, but it wasn’t that at all.

Beatrice was certain.

Among all the feelings she had for this damned man, none were close to love.

There was no love.

No lingering feelings. No longing, no regret, no possessiveness. All those had been sealed away long ago, not even dust remained.

So the reason she left these bite marks…

Ah, whatever. Who cared about the reason?

Her body was already crying out for stimulation. Beatrice, still holding Erich’s head, lowered one hand. The moment his member passed the entrance, a maddening pleasure surged.

Really, it felt insane.

She had learned pleasure from this man. She forgot pleasure as she forgot him.

The long-dormant sensitivity, dragged up again, felt almost violent. Beatrice gasped, shut her eyes tightly, and lowered her hips.

Finally, as the pillar invaded, her inner walls trembled with joy. She could feel how intensely, how tightly she clenched him. Even if the whole world flashed white like shattered stars, she tried her best to stay rational and lowered herself further.

And when their union was complete—

“Haa…”

Rough hair scratched sensitive parts. Even that sensation was so good that Beatrice collapsed into his strong embrace.

She was losing it.

She didn’t realize her forehead pressed against the man’s chest, right where her name was inscribed. She just melted away, like someone who’d sprinted at full speed after a long time.

Saliva pooled in her mouth. Beatrice grabbed the man’s jaw and pushed her tongue in desperately. During their relationship, she had improved at kissing as much as at s*x.

Erich von Schwert enjoyed kissing her whenever he was bored.

Beatrice did exactly as she’d learned from him. She mixed flesh, rubbed sensitive parts, and almost sucked out his breath.

As if she could touch his soul that way.

While their lips met wetly, her hips moved on their own, seeking more stimulation.

She didn’t notice Erich’s fingers starting to twitch as she ran her fingers through his black hair.

Nor did she notice his Adam’s apple moving roughly, or that his gaze was now burnt out, beyond intense.

“Haa…”

After ending their messy, not-quite-messy kiss, she let out a long, satisfied sigh. Her once neat gray eyes were already unfocused.

Her hips slapped against the man’s thighs, making a smacking sound. The creaking wasn’t hidden either. It was the sound made by her soaked s*x, already mixed with all sorts of fl*ids.

Beatrice bit her lip, braced herself on his shoulder. She wanted more, deeper, for their union to be more complete.

It used to be even more intense.

She didn’t realize Erich’s elbows were now freed from paralysis as she paused. Hesitating, she grabbed her chest, and when her n*pple was stimulated, she arched her back. Her legs spread wider. The sensation inside grew stronger.

“S-so good…”

It wasn’t enough. Something was missing. Before she could voice it, a fierce hand grabbed her nape like lightning.

* * *

The paralysis slowly, but relentlessly, ate away at his body.

Erich von Schwert was a warrior, knowing his body better than anyone. Every moment, he felt the paralysis spreading from his extremities to his core, enduring calmly, as calmly as possible, scraping up every bit of patience within him.

When a week had passed and his whole body was finally frozen like a statue…

The woman arrived.

He swore, Beatrice—

She would never imagine what he was thinking as he heard her pressing the password.

* * *

The man’s hand was as fast as a bird of prey snatching its victim. In the blink of an eye, Beatrice was face-down on the sofa, hips raised.

“Haaah…!”

She couldn’t protest.

His member, pulled out in one motion, thr*st fiercely and scratched inside.

“Not there.”

The feeling of every inner peak being pressed was so fantastic it shattered her reason. Her insides trembled, trying to hold onto him as he tried to withdraw.

“Here.”

As always, the merciless Erich von Schwert withdrew quickly… then slammed back in.

It was the way he had always had s*x. The way she was used to, close to savage plundering.

While he thr*st fast and hard, Erich pressed her nape down to dominate her. She felt like a taxidermied animal. The funny thing was, her body found even stronger pleasure in this restrained position.

Beatrice scratched the sofa’s leather with her nails.

Soon Erich’s hand left her nape and pressed her wrist. Then his fingers slid between hers.

“Make sure to praise my memory, Beatrice Winter.”

Erich murmured in a laughing voice, maybe mocking.

“Don’t I remember your body disgustingly well?”

“Yeah, you jerk… Or do I get some benefit from doing this with you?”

Focus on thrusting, Beatrice muttered sarcastically, and Erich snickered and bent down.

His chest pressed against her back.

She felt warmth. Strength.

She was literally trapped inside him. She didn’t look back, but could easily imagine it. The posture where he covered her, blocking out the whole world.

A new emotion surged up.

It pounded her throat. But for Beatrice, thankfully, she couldn’t focus solely on that feeling. Her chest was pressed between the heavy man and the sofa, crushing her.

The sensation of her n*pples rubbing spread pleasure through her mind. It felt like white lightning flashed before her eyes.

“Haaah…!”

When the man entered her deepest spot, Beatrice reached a bright cl*max.

Half crying. Half shuddering.

She greedily squeezed him, demanding release. Unable to withstand her tightening insides, Erich released himself with a long sigh.

While the liquid slammed inside, he released her fingers. He stripped her dress off and gently stroked her sweaty nape.

Kisses rained down on her shoulders. Feather-light, teasing bird kisses.

Beatrice, who twitched slightly, soon let out a m*an as she felt her body spinning.

“Uh, uh…?”

“You said to cooperate until it cools down.”

The man turned her sideways and smiled.

Her leg was now draped over his shoulder. His member began to slip out between her even more openly spread thighs.

It felt like liquid was leaking out.

No, not just a feeling—it was actually leaking.

Maybe to punish her for getting distracted, Erich flicked her n*pple with his finger. Then his hand kneaded her chest with skill bordering on perverse.

This bastard, is it just my imagination or is he even better at s*x now than before…?

She was curious about the answer, but didn’t really want to know. Beatrice tried her best not to compare, glaring at his annoyingly handsome face.

Usually so cold, now his face was slick with sweat.

Red eyes, heaving chest, one side of his lips curled, glistening tongue—

He looked not just *rotic, but almost vulgar.