Duke of the Beast and the Vicarious Bride - Chapter 73

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※ This work contains depictions of coercive relationships, explicit language, and other graphic content. Reader discretion is advised.

A flicker of fear—was he allowed to go so deep?—would seize her, only to be replaced by desperate longing when he withdrew.

Her body, craving greater stimulation, writhed and arched of its own accord. The posture, with her hips raised, no longer felt shameful. This time of coupling, like dogs in heat, melted her mind and stole her sanity.

Caligo’s movements, which had seemed merely brutal before, now felt appropriately forceful. He no longer acted as though punishing her, but appeared himself overwhelmed by sensation, barely in control. As her guard lowered, her body opened further still.

In the end, Fiona, who had been enduring his thrusts by clawing at the innocent bedsheets, could hold on no longer. At some point, she let go completely of the fragile thread of reason she had been grasping.

As her unbridled mind exploded, her limbs lost all control and melted into liquid submission. Along with a cascade of ecstasy that felt almost like relief, the muscles of her inner walls instinctively kneaded his member, eager to wring out his seed.

“Hahk! Hnngh! Kkuh…!”

That spasmodic movement finally drove Caligo to a dizzying peak. His spine tingled, and his lower body surged toward her like a horse freed from its reins.

Only one instinct remained in his mind: to drive deeper, ever deeper toward his female’s womb, to pour out as much seed as possible. Every muscle in his body contracted to crush his member within her and spill himself, then relaxed in the moment of release, surrendering everything.

“Hnngh……”

Caligo, his eyes half-lost to oblivion, thrust several more times into the slick, seed-smeared orifice, gazing blankly at their union as the fluid he had spilled seeped out with each lewd, wet sound.

His breath came in ragged gasps. He realised now that he must withdraw and depart this chamber. He understood, with a clarity that pained him, that pulling his member from this warm, welcoming place might be more hateful to him than death itself. Yet his will—the determination not to do anything Fiona might dislike—compelled his body to move.

“Fiona……”

With movements heavy with regret, he slowly pulled away, extracting his still-rigid length. Their mingled fluids dripped from the thick cylinder onto the sheets below. Had regret a physical form, it too would have dripped and pooled in just such a manner.

“Caligo… come again.”

Pushing aside his profound longing, he recalled words she had once spoken and offered them in return. Then his heavy footsteps retreated from Fiona’s bedside.

Twice now, in a single day, he had spoken new words. Astonishment spread through Fiona’s hazy mind.

If they continued thus, might conversation become possible? Her body was utterly spent, but her mind seized upon that fragile hope.

Something was different from the previous night, when she had felt only bewilderment and fear. Perhaps because her heart had steadied somewhat, she realised now that she had sensed no malice in him at all.

Looking back, Caligo’s actions the night before had been hasty and rough, but not, she thought, genuinely intended to harm her.

‘Was it truly revenge that drove him?’

Her earlier certainty wavered.

But Fiona forcibly turned away from the hope that dared to lift its head.

‘What am I hoping for? In the end, there will only be more disappointment.’

Caligo merely acted on instinct. It could be little different from a beast in rut mounting a female without thought.

The absence of malice did not mean he loved her as a man might, or cherished her. Still stung by the betrayal of the previous night, Fiona wrapped her heart in that protective reasoning.

In any case, tonight was not so terrible.

She had worried without the oil, but the night had passed with less pain than expected.

The necessity of preparing herself beforehand was shameful enough, but preferable to being hurt or torn.

As Caligo left the room, she felt the last of her strength drain entirely from her limbs.

With not a shred of energy remaining, Fiona forgot even to wash, just as she had the night before, and sank directly into a deep and dreamless sleep.