Prologue

“Hngh… haang……”

Syria’s ragged breath slipped from her lips.

‘I just meant to touch his butt, that’s all.’

Even as Syria tried to hold back, moans kept escaping her lips, and her grip tightened on Firenze’s butt. The soft, rewarding flesh changed to a firm, muscular feel whenever he moved upward and thrust in hard.

Her fingernails dug into his butt with the force of her grip, surely hurting, but Firenze’s movements didn’t slow in the slightest.

For hours now, Firenze’s fierce member had been forcefully pushing in and out of her intimate flesh, like the tide, making Syria feel as if her whole body was melting and she couldn’t think straight. The ceiling above her face, as she lay on the sofa, seemed to sway up and down, making her feel dizzy.

“Kh… To think I can ruthlessly thrust my c*ck into your hole, My Lady.”

Once again, as if nearing climax, a wet moan escaped Firenze’s lips. As if counting the number of times he had peaked, he pressed his mouth to the nape of Syria’s pale neck, leaving red marks as if devouring her.

As his hot lips and sticky saliva teased Syria’s white neckline, a burning jolt spread through her entire body from the intense stimulation.

Her br*ast, peeking out over her dress, was pressed against Firenze’s chest muscles, while the other br*ast was already trapped in Firenze’s hand, being kneaded and squeezed.

Knock, knock.

“My Lady, the Duke of Roxihart is waiting for you.”

From outside the door came the voice of the maid, Melanie.

“Ugh… Just a little… tell him… to… wait.”

Syria barely managed to answer, stifling her moans, but her trembling voice couldn’t hide the shaking of her body.

“Just a little…? My Lady…, ngh… I’m not even close to finishing.”

Apparently dissatisfied with her answer, Firenze’s member began thrusting even faster, as if he still had more to give, pushing so deep it felt as if he would pierce her very end.

Squish, smack, smack.

“Ah… no… it’s too deep……”

She felt the hot, hard shaft driving in so deep it seemed to press against her very insides. Every time Firenze’s member filled her, the space below her belly ached from being stretched so tightly.

Each thrust scraped along her inner walls, sending Syria’s body trembling in a mix of pain and pleasure.

‘No, this is crazy. How long is he planning to keep going?’

They’d already done it so many times, yet Firenze seemed more energetic than ever. It was unbelievable. The loyal Firenze, who cared for nothing but swordsmanship, had become a man consumed by desire for her body.

‘I shouldn’t have touched his butt.’

Even now, Syria wanted to slap her own perverted hand, but she couldn’t bring herself to let go of his butt.

“Haah… Please, Firenze, that’s enough now.”

As her body shook helplessly from Firenze’s relentless thrusts, Syria pleaded, pushing at his chest to stop him.

But contrary to her words, her lower body was still tightly gripping Firenze’s member. With each movement, his balls slapped against her butt, sending jolts through her, and her juices, already soaking the sofa, kept leaking out from the tightly filled gap.

“My Lady… you were the one who seduced me first, weren’t you? Getting this wet…”

Firenze’s face, smiling brightly, seemed oddly out of place in the situation. His hips moved powerfully once more.

Sluurp, smack, smack!

With the weight of the man pressing her down like a rock and the sticky heat filling the room, Syria felt as if she would overheat.

Splurt.

Once again, warmth slowly spread from below her belly. She could feel Firenze’s member, pulsing and shrinking slightly as it released inside her.

‘Is it finally over?’

Syria let her exhausted body go limp, panting for breath. Soft, silvery-gray hair, damp with sweat, tickled her cheek as it fell from Firenze’s forehead, so close to her own.

Gazing at Firenze’s beautiful face, so near she could feel his breath, Syria forgot her earlier resentment and stared, momentarily entranced.

“Are you going to meet your fiancé?”

At some point, Firenze’s eyes had returned to their usual clear, knightly gaze, as if he hadn’t just spoken such crude words. His face was perfectly composed.

Syria, twisting her body to escape from under the large Firenze, answered curtly.

“No, it’s obvious he’ll just ask to marry me. And I have to go to the Imperial Palace.”

The Duke of Roxihart was currently her fiancé, but to be precise, he was more like her ex-fiancé since she’d already handed him a letter of annulment.

And more than Alpen, the Emperor’s letter summoning her to the palace that morning was on her mind. After being put through this, she wondered if she could even walk properly to the palace.

“Why does the Emperor keep calling for you, My Lady? They say he’s a bloodthirsty tyrant, so you must be careful.”

Firenze, finally regaining his senses, had returned to his usual reliable knightly demeanor.

Syria gave an awkward smile at Firenze’s concern. In truth, she recalled how last night she had nearly smothered the tyrant Emperor to death by slamming his face with a pillow and pressing down with all her strength.

‘I almost killed the tyrant……’

Just thinking about it was terrifying. She had nearly lost her life in this world, accused of regicide.

Syria tried to sit up, but her gaze fell on Firenze’s butt visible past his waist, and, almost involuntarily, she reached out and squeezed it again, as if reluctant to let go.

‘Ah… it really is satisfying to touch.’

Just looking at it made her happy. But the moment her hand touched him, Firenze’s member, still not withdrawn, swelled up again like a balloon, filling her inside with a vivid sensation.

“Ah… no… not anymore. Firenze…, that was a mistake…!”

Realizing his reaction, Syria’s face turned pale as she hastily withdrew her hands, but Firenze’s clear eyes had already turned dark and intense.