My Ruin to You - Chapter 82

The man who had ruthlessly driven that monstrous length into her, forcing sounds out of her, now had the audacity to feign concern—and it was infuriating.

The mood hadn’t been like this when they first entered the barracks. Roseline had been sullen, and Valen, insisting she shouldn’t skip meals after sleeping all day, had called in a soldier to bring food. A proper meal—not dried meat or fruit—was served, and though she had no appetite, she devoured it.

After eating, soldiers arrived carrying a wooden tub. Soon, steaming hot water filled it, and Valen stepped out to give her privacy.

In the castle, she’d only had cold water for quick washes, so part of her thought, I shouldn’t do this—but she dipped her hands in anyway. The water was already prepared, and soaking for a bit wouldn’t bring the world crashing down. Rationalizing like that, she sank in.

It didn’t take long for Valen to return.

Why—why are you back so soon?

“You’d be in the tub around this time.”

“…Huh?”

He began undressing without hesitation, tossing his clothes aside before stepping into the tub.

Wait, hold on—why—?!

“You held back instead of pushing me away. Shouldn’t that be rewarded?”

“Ngh—ah…!”

Her flustered protests dissolved against his lips, and her feeble resistance crumbled under his familiar touch. That was the beginning. By the time water sloshed halfway out of the tub, their first round ended—but it didn’t stop there.

“Hah…”

Keeping her face buried in the pillow while arching her hips high to take that monstrous length was no easy feat.

Thud. Each time he slammed the thick crown into her, her balance wavered; each time it dragged against her ridged inner walls on the way out, her body clenched and trembled uncontrollably.

“Huu…”

Valen, clinging to her back like a beast in heat, finally straightened. As he did, the c**k buried deep inside her slid halfway out, glistening with slick under the dim light, veins prominent along its shaft.

“Roseline.”

Gripping the hand-marked curve of her hips, he sheathed himself to the hilt in one thrust. The frothy mess between them tangled in his pubic hair.

“You haven’t used this place in a while.”

“Wha…t…?”

He pulled back until only the tip remained, then slammed in again. The thick ridge of his c**k struck a spot inside her that shattered her composure completely, sending a gush of wetness flooding out. Roseline barely stifled a scream, her walls clamping down reflexively. Valen, as if holding back his own climax, pulled out entirely. His flushed, throbbing c**k stuck to her navel for a moment before he brushed her hair aside and flipped her onto her back.

The moment he pried her thighs apart, her foot pressed against his chest.

“Why?”

He laughed, utterly unrepentant, before grabbing her ankle and forcing her legs open again.

“What kind of question is that?”

“You’re the one not answering.”

“It’s—ah—hard to answer when the question makes no sense!”

“Answer anyway. If you don’t, I’ll start suspecting things.”

The broad head of his c**k rubbed against her entrance teasingly before he pushed in to the hilt once more. Hah! The sudden penetration nearly drew a loud cry from her. Roseline covered her mouth, shooting him a glare brimming with resentment.

“So talk, Rozi.”

“……”

“You have no one but me.”

Valen took Roseline’s hand, pressing his lips to the back of it. His teeth grazed over the lingering mark left by the serpent, as if to overwrite it with his own claim. His dark, swirling eyes never left her—desperate in a way that made her nod helplessly, as if entranced.

“I love you, Roseline.”

With a radiant smile, he bit down on her lower lip. At the same time, his fully hardened length pushed into her with torturous slowness. Their breaths tangled, and after each deliberate thrust, the bed creaked pitifully beneath them.

Thud.

Whenever footsteps sounded outside, Roseline would flinch and clench around him, a muffled moan—whose, she couldn’t tell—escaping between their joined lips. She wished he would just hurry up and finish, but there was no sign of relief—only his relentless, slow pace and her ragged breaths.

“Faster…”

Just as Roseline tried to urge him on, movement rustled outside the tent.

—”Your Highness.”