Chapter 71
The pace pounding into her gathered force. Pleasure sharp enough to feel like being torn apart and a dense, crushing pressure mingled together, thick and clinging. The pleasure surged endlessly, like lightning striking empty air, grinding and swallowing both their shaking bodies at once.
Before long, their breathing was the only thing hotter than the air outside. Hitaon, his back muscles drawn taut like a stallion’s, ravaged her inside without mercy. The wet, churning sound of flesh parting narrow flesh went on and on.
Bone and hip ground against each other with deep, muffled thrusts, as if wringing each other dry. Hitaon’s movements grew rougher and rougher, until at last he buried himself to the very end of her core in a final, explosive plunge. A scorching heat and a texture so perverse it was almost vile spilled down into Luirene’s belly in a long, steady stream.
Luirene lay fluttering, unable even to breathe. Hitaon finished emptying himself deep into the clenching heat, still gripped to the root, then pulled out and pressed a kiss to her delicate shoulder. He turned her gently onto her back—her face was drenched, glistening with salt.
“Ah.”
“Hn…”
“I pushed you too hard, it seems.”
Her chest still rose and fell. Hitaon laid her down comfortably and stroked her back tenderly. Luirene finally gathered her senses and pinched his forearm. He let out a small yelp of pain. With effort, she swallowed past her raw throat and lifted her head.
“Did you say it hurts?”
“Yes.”
“…”
“All right, I’m sorry. Don’t glare at me like that.”
The fire in her eyes subsided. Luirene burrowed under the blanket he’d draped over her, wriggling slightly.
“I feel like I’ve done something terribly wrong.”
“All of a sudden?”
“Maybe it’s because this is your bedroom, young master.”
He seemed to read what she was trying to convey. Doing what they always did in secret—but this time in his room—had left her feeling deeply unsettled. Hitaon, with the face of a man suddenly aware of his own failings, rubbed his dry palms over his face.
“I’m always so undeserving of you. This won’t last much longer.”
Luirene’s eyes went round. He kissed the corner of her eye and whispered.
“Not long ago, I submitted a request for succession notarization to the Council of Nobles.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s the final procedure—formally declaring my right to inherit the title and receiving notarization from the Council. Once it’s secured, even I can exercise the authority of the head of the family under special circumstances.”
“But… His Lordship the Marquis is still in good health.”
“This is one of the legitimate succession procedures for heirs. It’s valid even with my father still alive. Above all, Father has long since been full of plans to hand the title over to me early and spend his remaining years in leisure and enjoyment.”
The fact that he’d left for the territory with the summer retreat was part of that plan, Hitaon added with a small chuckle. Then did that mean it really wouldn’t be long before he became the master of this mansion? Her heart, which had swelled with anticipation, turned cold the moment a certain person came to mind.
“What about my lady’s side?”
“My mother is…”
Hitaon thought for a moment, rubbing his furrowed brow.
“Greedy.”
“…….”
“Because she’s someone who won’t let go of either rabbit—the glory of the family or the peace of the household.”
“……”
“She’ll approve of me inheriting the title. That’s been discussed since before I left to study abroad. But when the time comes, she’ll shift her attention to my marriage and start meddling in this and that. That part, she’s already…”
“Pardon?”
“No. Pretend you didn’t hear that.”
The Marchioness had been wielding her influence since his early days as the heir. She managed her son by letting him see and hear only what she deemed good by her own standards while thoroughly excluding the bad. It made sense that Hitaon wore a weary expression every time he thought of her.
“Once the notarization is approved, I’ll submit our marriage certificate straight away.”
“Can you do that?”
“I’ll handle it quietly and inform her afterward. That’ll be the end of it.”
Grinning wickedly like a charming villain, he wound a lock of Luirene’s black hair around his index finger and kissed it, whispering.
“Tell me. What kind of wedding have you dreamed of?”
“Why do you think I’ve dreamed of one?”
“They say every girl harbors some romantic fantasy.”
“Who says?”
“A noblewoman I know.”
Her heart beat at a quickening tempo. As if she’d reached the very end of a cave she’d been trudging through without rest, she felt, for the first time, a distinct glimmer of the future ahead. Her heart floated upward, as if tossed onto a bank of clouds.
“I…”
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