Even If It’s Depraved - Chapter 22

Lick. Lick. He ran his tongue meticulously over every carefully trimmed fingertip, then pushed her loose mourning robe higher. Lifting her upper body slightly, he traced her damp fingers over her b****t that are now heavy with age and whispered.

“I’m going in now.”

“No… hngh!”

“You’re so wet… it’ll go in easily today…”

His c**k, more than a handspan long, slid into her soft, parted entrance. His fingers, slipping beneath her breastband, found her swelling n****e and teased it. Brunhilde flinched, pulling her hips back reflexively—and the sudden clench made Carlos groan with pleasure.

“Haah… just as I thought, Mother’s c**t feels incredible…”

He thrust lazily into her slick, saliva-slicked depths. His shaft throbbed, ready to erupt at any moment—but his experience with other women had taught him how to hold back.

He probed her quivering walls from every angle, scraping them, then drove deep. Before long, she was rocking her hips in time with the wet, squelching rhythm. Then she convulsed like a fish on a hook.

“This spot feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Ugh… stop…”

“I’m going to move faster now.”

After a tender warning, Carlos pulled back. When his shaft was halfway out, he slammed back in with brutal force. The b****t in his hand squashed like rising dough. He loved the way it yielded, so he pounded into her again and again.

“Hah—hngh! Hng—ngh…!”

Her stifled cries burst out ragged. Carlos f****d her like an animal over and over, tirelessly, until foam formed at their joined flesh and thick fluid dripped down onto the sheets.

When Brunhilde—already lost in ecstasy for the third time—began to falter, he wrapped his arms around her and settled her on his lap. One arm circled her lower belly, the other crossed her chest, crushing her right b****t.

“I should’ve undressed you first.”

“Haah… ha…”

“I wanted to lick your bare skin.”

Complaining like a petulant child, Carlos rocked his hips slowly, kneading her b****t through her robe. Brunhilde, her tears long dried, leaned against her son’s arm and gasped for breath. The fourth climax came at last and his third release flooded her depths.

Licking his lips in satisfaction, Carlos kissed her back and whispered.

“You should be able to sleep comfortably now.”

“…”

“Lie down. I’ll clean you.”

He returned with lukewarm water and carefully wiped her clean with a cloth. When he was done, he pressed gentle kisses to her neatly groomed mound and the insides of her thighs.

After straightening her fluid-stained robe, he smiled.

“See you tomorrow morning, Mother.”

The door closed behind him.

Brunhilde covered her eyes with the back of her hand and wept for a long time. Then, unsteadily, she got up, scraped out what remained of his seed as best she could—and opened the drawer.

She took out several gray pills from the round container. Without water, she chewed and swallowed them.

The bitter taste brought a strange comfort amid her misery. Her breathing began to steady. Brunhilde closed her eyes, forcing herself to calm down.

Desperately, she wished that morning would never come.

* * *

It had already been half a year since Carlos took his seat as the new head of the house and since he had been spending nearly every night with Brunhilde.

The retainers began to press the young lord.

“Shouldn’t it be time for you to take a spouse?”

“Indeed. The bloodline of Brandt must continue.”

With Carlos now the only remaining legitimate heir, their concern that the house’s powerful divine authority might fade drove them to urge him persistently. Faced with their repeated proposals, the young man simply smiled with ease and gave a small nod.

“Very well. Gather candidates for a bride.”

“Oh!”

“A wise decision, my lord!”

Though the mistresses of House Brandt had never lived peaceful lives, there was no shortage of families eager to send a daughter into such a prestigious lineage.

After all, even Brunhilde—the current lord’s mother—had once been a royal princess, married off to the aging former Duke Brandt.

The retainers’ eyes gleamed with ambition, each hoping to claim even the smallest scrap of favor that might fall from the house’s immense power. Carlos merely watched them with a relaxed smile on his beautiful face.

Once the brief meeting ended, he attended to his duties before heading to his mother’s chambers.

Brunhilde sat by the window, staring blankly outside where the light filtered in. He shut the door with a deliberate thud. Only then did her gaze turn toward him.

“…You’re back, Carl?”

Her voice, slightly hoarse, was delivered along a faint, brittle smile.

After sharing her bed with her own son, she had rapidly lost her vitality. And yet, she could not bring herself to sever the bond with the child she had loved for half her life. It would be more accurate to say that her love for him had long since become part of her that could not be torn away.

Even now, in her deep violet eyes as she looked at him, traces of that lingering affection remained, like the stump of something once whole.

How could someone be so unbearably lovely?

A heavy sense of satisfaction stirred within him, heat pooling low in his abdomen. Concealing his rising desire, he stepped forward slowly and came to stand beside his mother.