Chapter 87
“How can I be sure if it’s true or not? If only I could be sure it’s not, then I’d just drag him away!”
She grumbled, rolling up her sleeves, then suddenly collapsed face-down on the table, looking utterly defeated.
“I liked that our lord was strong. Someone who didn’t just throw the empire aside and hide… someone even stronger in the face of greater power.”
Her voice trailed off in sorrow as her consciousness began to fade.
“Where on earth can we find Raphael’s holy sword?”
Camille bit her lip, recalling the scripture that mentioned the holy sword. If only they could find it, and if only they could find someone who could wield its power. But the sword and the savior had become mere legends and were almost impossible to locate.
“Well, even if we find it, it won’t help if no one can unleash its power.”
Camille muttered bitterly, her usually brave expression now drained and stiff.
“…But still, we can’t give up.”
After a long silence staring into the void, Nielsen finally spoke.
“I plan to see the Pope tomorrow.”
Camille immediately raised her head. Hastily wiping her damp face, she asked.
“What? You’ve always opposed revealing this to the temple!”
It had been Camille who insisted on seeking the temple’s help immediately and offering Elia as a sacrifice. Yet Nielsen had been adamant against informing the temple or requesting aid, hoping there was another way, believing Cyrone could return.
“Tomorrow, bring Lady Elia to the temple.”
Nielsen closed his eyes, resigned to fate.
* * *
“Ngh—!”
“Even spread this wide, you’re still so tight.”
Cyrone clicked his tongue, fisting a hand in Elia’s hair. His p***s twitched against her tongue. It was too thick, too much for her small mouth to take. Tears spilled down her cheeks as the intrusive pressure gagged her neck.
“If your mouth can’t handle it, I’ll just have to use the other hole.”
Cyrone hauled her onto the bed, and Elia instinctively clutched the sheets to cover herself. But Cyrone wouldn’t even tolerate that. He ripped the fabric away, and Elia’s bare body was revealed.
“My marks all over you… Beautiful.”
His smirk widened as he pressed a kiss to her inner thigh. She tried to squeeze her legs shut, but he forced them apart. Cyrone pinned her down to lavish attention on the space between her legs.
“Ah—Nn, no…!”
A finger pushed inside Elia, and Cyrone chuckled at how easily her body swallowed it. Her body was too e****c.
“You say ‘no,’ but you’re dripping.”
“Ah!”
His thumb pressed somewhere, and Elia twisted off the bed with a cry. Her liquid soaked the sheets beneath her.
“Ah… Ahh…”
He dragged his tip to her wetness. The lewd sound of skin on skin filled the room. As Cyrone moved calculatedly, hot breath poured out from Elia’s mouth. Her vision blurred and the ceiling swayed above her.
“Ngh!”
“Arch your back.”
Her face was shoved into the mattress, while her hair was grabbed. Her hips forced upward until her most private flesh was exposed under the light.
“Ah!”
A sharp gasp came from her as the large tip plunged into her. It was deeper and unbearable from behind.
“It’s, too deep… Ah…!”
Elia reached out her arms, trying to pull away. But the more she resisted, the harder Cyrone drove into her. The brutal thrust made Elia collapse and groan. Something wet dripped obscenely.
“Ah! Ah! Ngh!”
When her inner walls clenched instinctively around him, Cyrone groaned low in his throat. His hands seized her b*****s. He kneaded the peaks until she became even more sensitive. Pleasure crashed over her in relentless waves above and below, blurring her vision.
“Ah, ah, Cyrone, please… please, stop…!”
Elia clutched his wrist and begged, but it only made him rougher. He dragged himself out before thrusting back in. Elia was left gasping into the sheets at the brutal thrusts. His grip tightened on her back, keeping her from being pushed forward.
“Hhhk! Ahh!”
He pistoned into her harder and faster without restraint. Her body shook violently and cries tearing free. The world shook around her. Her sweaty fingers twisted in the sheets.
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