A Night I Couldn’t Be Honest - Chapter 1.2

“Ah!”

He gave a low, approving sound and raised his head. The electric rush of climax seized her brain, and she gasped, mouth too slack to close. The corners of her eyes had reddened; saliva traced her parted lips; only a thin, trembling moan lingered on, stretching out in the aftermath.

He licked his own lips, fingers still moving slowly inside her. His chest rose and fell quietly, barely containing the tension about to crack him open.

As her vision cleared, he raised his hand into view. Her arousal coated his fingers, slick and transparent. He pressed them together a few times as if testing the consistency, and thin silver threads stretched between them. His palm, wet to the heel, was proof enough of Azelin’s lustful desires.

Heat flooded her face, though there was no color left to deepen. A sound caught in her throat. When she bit her lip and squeezed her eyes, he actually laughed.

“Is every woman like this? You’re like a ripe fruit. So wet, so sweet.”

He licked his fingers clean and tilted his head, waiting. Azelin couldn’t answer. He was the only man who had ever made her body respond this way. She had no comparison to offer, and no desire to give him one on other women.

She had volunteered herself as his teacher… The contradiction pricked her chest like a needle, a small throbbing ache.

“Not—ngh—not yet. Quickly, please…”

“Then show me quickly. How to love you. Please.”

Pushing aside the contradiction she didn’t want to face, Azelin raised her knees again, the strength that had fled them returning.

Her inner walls, which had been clenching around his fingers, couldn’t bear the emptiness once they withdrew. They clenched and released again and again, shameless and aching deep inside her belly.

He gazed steadily at her v***a as she opened for him and drew his wet hand slowly down his own length. The sight of his p***s, hard and glistening, slicked with both his precum and her juices, was enough to steal her breath.

Just as he had savored her trembling, she found herself staring at the visible shape of his desire and had to force herself to swallow.

Even if this sweetness was a poison that would wound her one day, she couldn’t stop the heat pooling inside her, swelling with anticipation.

Her toes raked down his thigh, and his body settled over hers again. His member found her quivering opening and began to press slowly forward. The stretch was almost too much; the fullness of him so overwhelming her head fell back.

A short, breathless sound broke from both of them at once. His fist crushed the edge of the pillow. The dizzying mix of pain and pleasure carved his presence into her, deep and unmistakable.

Her stunned mind drifted back, following the thread of the encounter that had led her to this bed.

The day she first set foot in the Imperial Palace.

She had forced herself forward despite legs that wanted to flee that painfully dazzling world, even then, Azelin had never imagined she would one day be crying out sweetly beneath this man.

If she could carry all of this memory back to that moment, would she still have forced herself through those doors with trembling legs?

“Ah… Ah!”

Azelin’s hesitation dissolved along with her vision, washed white as he pressed deep and joined himself completely to her.

No matter how many times she was sent back to the beginning, even knowing this love of hers would become a wretched, unrequited one, she knew she would never manage to choose against falling into his arms.

The beginning of the tie that had snared her like a spider’s thread was still vivid, so close she could almost touch it.