Chapter 122
Through her soft lips, yielding docilely, the breaths of the lowliest maid and the greatest authority intertwined. Arzeletta eagerly drank Ragnar’s breath. Like desperately taking in air when sinking in water.
But that was only for a moment.
“Ha, mm, please…”
“……”
“Ah, My Lord, ahh.”
Arzeletta wept and clung to him. It felt as if her prayer was burning away. The heat from the addiction intensified with time.
Arzeletta’s entire body, like a pearl, was drenched in fine sweat. Arzeletta panted weakly, her head tilted back.
The man’s firm fingers touched between Arzeletta’s raised knees. Her very delicate and soft inner flesh, which seemed as if it would easily bruise, was overflowing with wetness.
The moment he touched her, Arzeletta deeply lifted her hips, but she didn’t block his hand. From where Arzeletta was wet beneath, there was a fresh scent of grass and clean water. What touched his fingers was unbelievably smooth.
A chilling sensation climbed Ragnar’s spine. The muscles that perfectly filled his back twitched, following Arzeletta’s gasps held captive in his embrace.
Even though he had confirmed Arzeletta’s reaction of wetting herself from his touch several times already, this evidence of Arzeletta’s arousal and intoxication disoriented Ragnar.
“Arzeletta.”
“Uh, hmph…”
“Are you in great pain?”
He asked, brushing back the hair clinging to her white forehead. Arzeletta bit her lip and nodded.
Just once, a single time. The moment she inhaled the scent, her legs lost strength. She brought her trembling fingertips together to cover her mouth. The sensation of air touching her wet underside, shameful with her own moisture, was chilling.
What kind of person was this man, utterly unshaken even amidst such a powerful scent?
Arzeletta, who had experienced her reason crumbling with just one whiff of the scent, found herself thinking about the man before her, who was kissing her nape.
The man’s firm p***s was touching the gap between her pale, exposed legs. Like everything else that constituted his body, it was menacingly large and hard. Ragnar had been in this state throughout the long night, while Arzeletta gasped with fever.
But Arzeletta knew.
It wasn’t the mind-shattering scent that had swollen the rigid, stubborn ruler’s p***s.
It was she herself who had conquered him.
Only now, after coming this far, did Arzeletta seem to understand the meaning of his desire for her, the magnitude of that craving.
To Ragnar, she was a being even more painful than this scent. Only now did she seem to understand why this formidable Lord had looked so wounded when he clamped his lips shut and looked down at her.
“My Lord…”
Arzeletta whispered, grasping the man’s shoulder. Her entire body was already covered with his traces.
He was as firm as a weapon, and Arzeletta’s entrance was softly and warmly aroused.
If he would just hold her like this, everything would be easy. Arzeletta wanted to escape this pain that made it difficult even to breathe, and.
…She wished he would find some comfort because of her.
“…Quickly.”
Yesterday and today, seeing this strong man who drank the poison she offered, him suffering more than herself because of his desire for her, she pitied him. Sympathizing with the clumsy heart of this strong man, who felt more tempted by her than by this poison.
And wishing to overlap her own situation, receiving no love from the one she was subservient to, with his situation, and so.
All those things led Arzeletta to Ragnar.
His tragedy felt like her own, and his lost longing felt like her own love for Theogrim.
Arzeletta wanted to give herself to Ragnar. That feeling, at least, was sincere.
“……”
Ragnar watched Arzeletta quietly open her body.
Between her white, neat legs was a sweet and warm entrance. Ragnar wanted to immediately thrust his devilishly e***t p***s into the opening, which was so wet with sweet fluid that it dared to stain his sheets.
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