Chapter 11.2

After arriving home and returning to her room, Syria took off her outer clothes, which her maid came over to help with.

“Hm? Melanie hasn’t come?”

“…She hasn’t returned yet.”

“…Really?”

Syria replied calmly and changed into a light chemise dress. She considered putting on her nightgown but chose comfortable indoor clothes since it wasn’t bedtime yet.

‘Looks like things are going well. Hehe.’

Maybe Melanie wouldn’t come back tonight. Thinking of her enjoying a date like a fresh couple made Syria’s heart warm. Melanie nagged a lot, but it was all out of care, and Syria knew it.

“When she comes, I’ll have to ask for all the details. Hehe.”

Syria smiled happily, waiting for Melanie. She was sure Melanie would chatter endlessly about everything that happened.

She rolled around on her bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, flipping through a book, but time wouldn’t pass. Melanie still hadn’t returned.

“Why isn’t she coming? I’m bored…”

Usually, Syria tried to send Melanie away because she was noisy, but now the quiet was unfamiliar.

“This won’t do. I’ll go out and see. She should be back by now…”

She was sure Melanie wouldn’t stay out overnight, so Syria jumped out of bed and went outside. It was pitch dark, and except for the occasional soldier, it was quiet.

She crossed her arms and leaned against the door, waiting. Passing soldiers saw her and bowed.

‘Ah… If I wait here, it’ll bother people.’

The main gate was quite far from the main building, and crossing the garden and lake led to the carriage house used by servants. Since Melanie would return by carriage, Syria decided to wait there instead.

It was a fifteen-minute walk, but she decided to use it to digest the sweets and wine she’d eaten at the banquet. The gentle night breeze brushed her chemise dress, and the fabric against her legs felt nice.

Passing through the flower-scented garden, she reached a vast lake. The full moon was reflected perfectly on the water. Except for the occasional splash of a fish, the lake was quiet.

“Hm… So peaceful.”

She breathed in the scent, feeling calm. Wanting to enjoy the rare leisure, Syria sat in a pavilion by the lake instead of walking all the way around.

The seat was a bit cold, but bearable. The original Syria usually read here, but it was her first time.

“I’ll sit here until I hear the carriage.”

She swung her legs, letting them dangle, and closed her eyes under the moonlight.

Rustle.

She heard grass being stepped on nearby. Startled, she opened her eyes and saw Firenze’s face not far away. The area was dark, but the big full moon made it possible to see faces.

“…Sir Firenze?”

Firenze had changed out of his formal clothes into something more comfortable.

“I’m sorry. I had work and was late. I was just about to go to your room, My Lady.”

“…My room? Why?”

Syria wondered why he’d come to see her at night.

“Didn’t you promise, My Lady?”

“Promise…? Oh, at the banquet?”

Syria remembered their brief conversation. It wasn’t urgent, but apparently he really wanted an explanation.

“You said you’d cheer me up.”

Firenze smiled widely, his eyes sparkling. Seeing him approach, Syria felt a shiver run through her.

“…I said I’d explain…”

“I’d like to hear that explanation properly.”

Firenze soon sat beside her. Their faces were close enough to kiss, and the cold under her seat warmed up.

“Are your legs still uncomfortable?”

“Mm, a little…”

Firenze suddenly took Syria’s legs and placed them on his lap. Her slippers fell off, and her dress, which had come down to her ankles, slid up to her knees.

“Ah… Wait a minute.”

His cool, calloused hands gently massaged her calves. She wanted to protest, but the way his hands worked inside made her feel so good she let him continue.

“Does it feel good?”

“Mm… Firenze, you’re good at massages.”

Her calves, swollen from wearing shoes all day, felt relieved. She grew drowsy as her eyelids drooped.

“Then let me check a bit more.”

Suddenly, Firenze pulled her calves, and Syria fell back. Luckily, before she hit the cold ground, Firenze’s outstretched hand cradled her head.

“W-What are you doing?”

A cool breeze touched her exposed thighs as her skirt rode up.

“You said you’d explain properly, didn’t you?”

Firenze’s hands slid her skirt up to her waist, revealing her lower body. He roughly loosened her undergarments and stared intently.

“Hah… What… What are you doing?”

His gaze made her whole body heat up, warming the cold ground.

“Hmm. How much did it swell?”

“Hhh… Don’t say things like that…”

“…This won’t do. It’s still swollen, so I’ll have to soothe it.”

Firenze turned Syria over, lifted her ankle, and lay down beneath her.

As soon as Syria was turned around, what she saw was Firenze’s knee, but soon he pulled her thighs and dragged her back. Right below her face was the thick bulge of his trousers.

“What… what are you doing? We’re outside.”

When Syria tried to get up and escape, Firenze’s strong arms wrapped around her waist. He held her tightly, not letting her go as she squirmed.

“Since you’ve been so worked up, I’ll nurse you myself.”

No sooner had he finished speaking than he pressed her hips down, making Syria sit right on his face. His high nose and full lips were crushed beneath her.

Firenze grabbed her hips as if he would tear them apart, rubbing his lips against her exposed skin. His hot, soft tongue slowly traced over her hidden flesh.

“Haaah…!”

Her body was already sensitive from her earlier encounter with Karl at the Imperial Palace. Firenze’s lips pressed and rubbed against her parted body.

“How good must it feel for you to already finish like this?”

“Hnnn… But… what if… someone sees…”

Her pale hips covered Firenze’s face, and just below her own face was his upright pillar. Anyone who saw Syria’s face above Firenze’s body would surely misunderstand the scene.

Syria tried to lift her hips with her spread legs, but his arms around her waist held her firmly. No matter how dark it was, their overlapping figures would be visible.

‘Ha… really…’

Firenze was always so proper, but whenever things got heated, he would say things that made her blush—just like now.

“You’re twitching so lewdly, begging for me to put it in. It’s incredibly arousing.”

“Hnnn… That’s not true!”

Syria lifted her face to answer. The bulge in his trousers swelled even more than before. Firenze still held her waist tightly with one hand, and with the other, he pulled his pants down.

“Ouch…!”

His hidden manhood popped out and brushed against her cheek. The sensation of being touched there was unfamiliar. His *rect member twitched, already glistening with clear fl*id.

“Take it in.”

“What… Here…?”

Syria looked around. To her left was the quiet lake, to her right a beautifully landscaped flower bed. Except for the pillars supporting the pavilion’s roof, it was wide open. It was the perfect place to be caught by a returning servant, a restless worker, or a patrolling guard.

To be doing this sort of thing here was madness. Syria braced herself on her elbows, resisting. The hot pillar seemed ready to invade her mouth at any moment, pulsing like a second heart.

‘No…! Absolutely not. If we get caught, it’s over.’

Syria squeezed her eyes shut and held herself up with her arms.

“You’re not listening.”

Firenze gripped his member and moved it, smearing slippery fl*id on her face. It nudged her nose and pressed against her lips, threatening to slip inside.

“St… stop… mmph.”

As she spoke, the tip slipped between her lips. He must have showered, because a fresh scent of soap tickled her nose. When Firenze lifted her hips, he pushed in halfway in one go.

“Hnnnn…!”

“Take more.”

Firenze bent his knees and thr*st his hips harder. His length slid in all the way, filling her mouth.

Once fully inside, Firenze let go and grabbed her hips again, spreading her. His tongue swept up to her pink entrance, and the warmth tingled as it passed. Syria’s hips shook side to side.

“Just hold my c*ck in your mouth and stay still.”

Slap!

Firenze smacked her pale hip with his palm.

“Hnnnn…!”

With her face pressed into his coarse hair, Syria gasped for breath. The thing deep in her throat pulsed and prodded everywhere. Saliva, unable to be swallowed, dribbled from her lips.

Smooch, smooch.

Firenze rubbed his lips against her, then began to s*ck her with noisy slurps.

“Mm… mm… can’t…”

With the thick thing in her mouth, her speech was muffled. As she tried to speak, her teeth grazed him.

“Ugh… Don’t use your teeth. Otherwise…”

“Hnnnn…!”

The stimulation made Syria collapse, her face buried in his coarse hair.