My Ruin to You - Chapter 192

‘…….’

‘Hm?’

‘……You said that last time too……’

‘It’s the last time. I won’t ask again.’

‘…….’

‘Just once.’

A strange sense of fulfillment welled up inside her. Seeing this man, who lacked for nothing, pleading so desperately was endearing. Roseline wrapped her arms around his neck again. Valen, as if he had been waiting, bit into her lips. Their tongues tangled, saliva mixing, and as Roseline’s hand stroked his growing length, the thoroughly wet entrance parted and he pushed inside.

‘Hoo……’

A moan escaped his lips. Valen whispered embarrassing things into Roseline’s burning ears—that his head would explode, that he was so tight his c**k might melt. Overcome with shame, Roseline clenched down even tighter, causing thick veins to bulge on the back of his hand gripping the pillow.

‘I’m going insane.’

‘Ah, slowly, hi, Your Grace……!’

‘I told you. To say my name, hgh.’

‘Val, Valen, slo, slow, haat, why, hit……!’

As fierce thrusts began, Roseline, unable to withstand the force, was gradually pushed upward. Apparently annoyed by this, he grabbed her hips and pulled her firmly back down. Then, gathering her slender legs together, he draped them over his shoulders and began pistoning his hips like a madman.

Squelch—flesh meeting flesh. Squelch—the sound of wet inner parts being plundered filled the bedroom. Each time the thick head struck a particular spot inside, Roseline would jolt and tremble. Veins bulged on his forehead as well. The hand stroking Roseline, gleaming with sweat, was remarkably tender, but the shaft relentlessly pounding and splitting her open was utterly savage.

‘Ah, hghh.’

Roseline barely managed to close her mouth, which kept falling open, and clutched the pillow tightly. Then, lowering her legs and covering her body, he interlaced his fingers with her small hand. After barely fitting just the head inside, he thrust in deeply as if intent on burying his balls, causing the pooled fluids to overflow and soak the bedding.

‘Can’t, let it, all go to waste.’

It’s not like I let it out because I wanted to—if that’s what worries you, then you should be gentler—these were the arguments she wanted to make, but the words that escaped her lips were, absurdly, nothing but moans. The massive, sturdy bed, large enough to comfortably hold four or five grown men, creaked and shook for a long while.

His eyes narrowed fiercely at the same time the head of his c**k swelled. Gush after gush of seed spurted forth, soaking into every wrinkled crevice of her inner walls. It was already his nth release, but the volume was still substantial.

As he pulled out his member with apparent reluctance, Roseline, still floundering in the aftermath of pleasure, shuddered faintly. Valen kissed the forehead of Roseline, who had worked hard to take him all night long. And then he said:

‘If I ask to go one more time, will you try to kill me?’

With those terribly affectionate words as the finale, Roseline woke from her sleep.

What a miserable dream this was.

Greeting a discomfiting morning, Roseline scolded her own tacky self for dredging up old memories into a dream just because of one kiss.

Perhaps noticing her low spirits, Schnitzel, who was sitting on the sofa writing his statement of repentance, glanced at Roseline seated at the desk.

“Are you still upset? I’m sorry. I was trying to do well, but I didn’t know it would turn out like that, either.”

The fact that he had deliberately come to Roseline’s room instead of using his own desk, putting himself in an uncomfortable position, was also part of Schnitzel’s own way of repenting. In fact, she had already seen multiple instances of Schnitzel hunching over as if glued to the low table, patting his sore back.

They had been given the punishment of submitting statements of repentance and being confined to quarters. Schnitzel, with his exceptional sense of responsibility, had even offered to write Roseline’s statement for her. When she refused, he brought his own writing supplies over. Of course, he did suggest she go back to her room and write comfortably. But Schnitzel, bluffing that the sofa was so comfortable it made him sleepy, didn’t even pretend to listen.

Roseline had tried to sit opposite him, but Schnitzel blocked her with his brute strength. Thus, the situation was created: Schnitzel on the sofa, Roseline at the desk, each writing their own statements of repentance.

Truthfully, even though he talks easily enough now, when Schnitzel first faced Roseline returning to the annex in a sorry state and heard the full story of what happened, he was deeply distressed.

‘I’m truly sorry, my lady. I was short-sighted. I told the Professor you did nothing wrong. He’ll probably be sick of the sight of me, so I’ll make sure to leave the Academy.’