Renéee’s decision to send a message to Josie, a woman who was currently leading the punitive forces in his place and fighting the remnants of Lamallac’s forces, was ridiculous. What was he trying to achieve by summoning a woman who had never been more than a fleeting acquaintance, let alone a lover, to a man who now had a wife? It was utterly ridiculous.

That was all it had been. A fleeting feeling, nothing more. There wasn’t even enough left between them to call for closure. Now that he had Swan, Josie no longer mattered. 

But Swan… he had never seen her so completely frozen. Was that why she had been sneaking suspicious glances at him all along, a face full of fear that her actions might be discovered? But after that night in the cabin, her expression had become noticeably more relaxed, as if she no longer cared what happened. It was a look he didn’t like. 

What could be going through that little mind of hers? He couldn’t begin to fathom her thoughts. But one thing was certain: Swan was his wife. The woman in his arms had borne his child. To insult her was to insult him. 

He should have punished Renéee as he had Raoul, but Renéee was the cherished daughter of a noble family. So her reckoning would come in the form of harm to that which she valued most, that which she loved and held dearest – that would be the price she had to pay.

He moved his hips steadily, withdrawing the bat-like object. The freshly flowing love juices aided his movements. His wife, her cheeks as red as an apple, furrowed her brow and scratched at his chest as she voiced her complaints. He took her hand, wrapped his arm around her and kissed her collarbone. With a leisurely rhythm, he continued to move his hips, pressing his p*nis against her inner walls.

“Ah, ahhh!”

Swan arched her hips and twisted her pelvis. His eyes, heavy with lust, were dark and clouded. Unable to steady his breathing, he moaned softly through his parted lips. The size was still unfamiliar and the deeply buried p*nis felt uncomfortably tight. Each exhaled breath was sharp and strained.

Swan bit her lower lip and let out a soft moan. Tears welled up and streamed down, soaking the skin beneath her eyes. Her nails dug into the shoulder she was clinging to. Though she whimpered and struggled, she continued to cling, her nails slipping and digging into his shoulder again and again.

“Uh, if you move… ah, don’t… ahhh, ugh!”

A sound that no longer resembled the pleasure of a cat lingered in his ears. Atlion glanced down at his force p*nis. The faintly glowing opening trembled slightly. His hard p*nis, nestled in the soft, yielding flesh, glistened as if coated in lamp oil.

Atlion instinctively drew the woman’s soft earlobe into his mouth, nibbling gently with his teeth as he pushed the remaining length of his p*nis all the way to the base.

“Eung, hhhhhh! Ah! Heuk! No, no… .”

Swan burst into tears. Her words, following the sharp nasal sound, were filled with denials – refusals that needed no deeper consideration. He had never really considered her objections when he took her body. After all, her struggles in his arms were nothing more than a display of petulance.

Swan was the same. She cried softly, her plump thighs trembling as she spread her legs even wider. She moved her hips, eager to please him further. He was intoxicated, his hands caressing her soft, round br*asts. Swan was sweet – overwhelmingly so. The sweetness was almost unbearable, making his teeth ache as he thrust into the tight embrace of her body. His senses blurred, unable to tell if the taste on his lips was sugar or the warmth of her skin. Are all women like this? So intoxicatingly good that they make your mind dissolve in bliss?

As his memory returned, he realised that this was his first experience of a woman’s body. Was this why he felt so inexperienced? Was it his unfamiliarity that left him so defenceless in the face of her delicate form? Sweet, pale and fragile… Perhaps all women had such a disarming appearance, capable of easily dismantling a man’s resolve.

But Swan was different. Swan was unlike anything he had ever encountered – the sweetest thing he had ever claimed, yet the most hauntingly regrettable. Swan was just… Swan. Kissing her, revealing her secret places, pressing his body against her soft, tender skin – it all overwhelmed him, every sensation sharp enough to send shivers through his entire being.

He moved his hips sharply, making a slapping sound as they collided with the quivering, parted l*bia majora. With each thrust, the gap between Swan’s thighs widened. He pressed his p*nis against the bulging spot on her inner wall. Her legs spread like a frog, squirming and whimpering.

He looked down at her as she tilted her head back, licking the corner of her lips where saliva had collected. She wriggled beneath him, her hands cupping her br*asts. Their eyes met and locked. Swan burst into tears and pressed herself against his chest. Atlion caught her hand and brought it to his mouth. Startled, Swan tried to pull her hand away.

Atlion overcame her resistance and continued his rhythmic movements as he took her thumb into his mouth. He hollowed out his cheeks, drawing his lips inward as he sucked deeply, making a wet sound that echoed through the tent. Swan’s expression twisted, her eyes welling up.

“Mmnh, ahh, hnghhh!”

He took each finger in turn, from thumb to pinky, and sucked them deeply. The elongated organ moving in and out of her was covered in white foam. He watched as it smeared over her dark pubic hair. Swan, apparently uncomfortable with his gaze lingering on their joining point, sat up and tried to shield herself with her hand.

It was a habit of hers to avoid such actions in bright, exposed places. Just as she disliked being in open spaces, she disdained intimacy in well-lit environments. Not only did she avoid it during the day, but also under the glow of a lamp, where their faces were clearly visible as they intertwined. Her aversion puzzled him.

Grabbing the woman who was still clutching her chest and trying to turn her body, he pushed her down onto the bed, forcing her to raise her knees. Swan whimpered in protest. When she shook her head in refusal, he gave her a stern look and slapped her b*ttocks with a sharp smack. Swan let out a weak sob. 

“Raise your knees, Swan.” 

“P-please stop, can’t we stop now?” 

“Raise your knees.”

Swan turned to face him. Her face, revealed through the dishevelled strands of her fiery red hair, was a mess. He pressed his lips to her flushed nose and then bit her cheek lightly. Swan’s hand rested on his chiseled chest and he could feel her laboured breathing.

“I-I… didn’t take any contraceptives.”

“……”

“S-So, recently… I might… I might get pregnant, Sir Knight. Hic…”

Swan swallowed her trembling breath and spoke in a low whisper. Her voice, laden with fear, carried the weight of words that seemed too frightening to say aloud. Atlion looked at her, his expression one of confusion.

It was as puzzling to him as her aversion to intimacy in brightly lit rooms. But that was Swan. Atlion could not understand her.

Especially when it came to pregnancy. She had already carried his child once, hadn’t she? So why would she refuse to fulfil her role as his wife if it meant carrying his child again? He couldn’t understand it. But that was the kind of woman Swan was.

She was delicate and sensitive. Easily broken, easily unsettled. But that was said to be the nature of women – a woman’s temperament. Swan’s temperament… Yes, temperament – it was something that could only be bluntly categorised and dismissed. 

“Women are all the same.” 

Those words, spoken indifferently by his father after an unsatisfying night with the queen, resurfaced in his mind. Sometimes he found himself thinking the same thing when he saw Swan crying alone. Women, after all, were like that – creatures beyond a man’s understanding. 

So there was no need to try to understand them. That’s what his father had said. Women were to be soothed and comforted, not understood. But even when his father repeated those words with indifference, he would still linger in the queen’s chambers. 

Atlion was no different. In fact, he was worse. Unable to comfort her, he could only watch her with distant eyes.

Atlion gazed at the trembling woman for a long moment before whispering softly to Swan,

“It doesn’t matter, does it?”

The man, who had spread her legs, thrust his p*nis into her v*gina. Her hole, covered in cum and love juice, bulged and swallowed his p*nis. Swan, clutching the sheet tightly, lifted her head and gasped. Her vision was blurred by the heat. She moaned as she shook her b*ttocks with her mouth open, trying to suck a little deeper.

“Yeah, uh-uh! Ahh!”

The sounds undoubtedly echoed beyond the tent. But the overwhelming pleasure left no room for control. It was an intensity so strong it bordered on violence. A tingling sensation reverberated through her groin, curling her toes inward. Her b*ttocks grew red and swollen with each grinding thrust of their hips.

His t*sticles pressed tightly against her beneath his p*nis. Swan’s eyes rolled back as she trembled uncontrollably, like a child caught in an intense moment of play. Overwhelmed with pleasure, she writhed and let out a soft whimper. Finally, unable to control herself, she burst into tears, causing the man to whisper softly, “I’ll hold you.

Swan, who had been moving her hips as she lay face down, leaned into his chest. Holding her so that her back was pressed against him, he grabbed her chin and lifted it. Swan tilted her head back and felt his tongue enter her mouth – thick and warm, filling her completely.

“Ha, ha! Huhu.”

Swan, now perched on his thigh, trembled with small, jerky movements. Her entire body trembled under the length and thickness of his p*nis being thrust into her from behind. The man wrapped his long arms around her, pulling her back into his embrace as she tried to wriggle away. Grasping his arms, Swan let out a low, nasal moan. 

“Haah, haaah!”

The moment she felt herself being pushed to the limit, she realised that was always how far he would go. Despite knowing this, a part of her had hoped otherwise. After all, they were in a place full of people. Wasn’t he the Crown Prince? Surely he would know his limits. Surely he wouldn’t go beyond them, seeing how much of a mess Swan was already.

But the man who had been kissing Swan’s wet lips pinched her n*pple, causing a globule of opaque liquid to form. A metallic scent hung in the air, stinging her nose. Sniffing, Swan tried to push his hand away, but he lowered his head and took her n*pple in his mouth, causing one of her br*asts to rise slightly.

The sensation of her n*pple being sucked was unpleasant. The man, seeing Swan shake her head in protest, seemed unfazed as he swallowed the liquid that entered his mouth with audible gulps. Swan’s eyes trembled slightly. He began to move again, thrusting rhythmically. His angular body pressed against her as if he wanted to wrap her completely in a powerful embrace. 

“Ah! Ah! Ugh!”

The man, who had been thrusting his hips violently, suddenly turned her over and pulled her back into his embrace. Facing each other, the p*nis thrust into Swan again and again, its length and hardness reminiscent of a rod.

Swan shivered at the sight of the white foam at their joining point. His expression showed a casual indifference to the idea of pregnancy. Having two children didn’t seem to bother him at all. “It doesn’t matter,” he had said – those exact words.

As if it was Swan who was strangely worried about such things… Did it really not matter if she got pregnant again? It was said that nobles never spread their seed carelessly. Even their mistresses were strictly chosen from their own class. 

It was a world completely closed to someone like her, a courtesan. And what about someone like Mirabella? What would happen to a child like Mirabella? It was said that even an illegitimate child of a noble’s mistress could sometimes be considered as if she didn’t exist in the eyes of the emperor.

Tears glistened in the corners of her cold, empty eyes. Her sagging br*asts swayed with each powerful thrust of his hips. She swallowed her dry sobs like saliva, her whole body tingling with heat. 

Suddenly the man moved faster, his hips jerking as he reached his climax. Everything he released pooled in her entrance. As she staggered, almost falling, he caught her in his arms. 

He kissed the bridge of her nose gently and held her close. She could feel the sensation of s*men seeping from the widened opening. She wondered if she should scrape it out, so she inserted her fingers. 

“I’ll do it later, later.”

He always took care of the clean-up after their coupling. In retrospect, it was an unthinkable act for the Crown Prince to deal with the aftermath of a courtesan’s body. Swan’s eyes darted nervously, her fear growing. She wanted to deal with it now, but the man grabbed her hand as she tried to pull away, refusing to let go.

“I-I could get pregnant.”

Swan whispered again.

“Maybe you could.”