Please Lend Me 50 Million - Chapter 6

Before she knew it, Asha’s small lips were soaked and swollen. It was because he had sucked at them hard, helpless to contain his arousal. And it wasn’t only Harriet who had caught fire. As though his desire had leapt across to her, Asha was panting too—swallowing her breathless gasps as she wrapped her arms urgently around his neck and pulled him closer. The urge to roll across the carpet with him surged up inside her. Only the rustling of her crumpled skirts and the moans she couldn’t suppress filled the entire study.

His strong, solid arms wrapped around her waist. His hands roved over her body as though exploring every inch—brushing over her b*****s, skimming across every part of her. Just as she was hoping for his touch to reach somewhere deeper, even deeper, something soft pressed against her left b****t. A sensation she had never felt before.

—!

Her body convulsed like a fish run through with a spear, reacting to the unfamiliar sensation. The more she squirmed to pull away from whatever was rubbing at her b****t, the more Harriet pressed in. The hand that caught and held her thrashing body against his chest caged her completely, and that soft, yielding pressure was ground deliberately over her n****e as if to make absolutely certain she felt it.

“Mmph~~!”

Her lips were sealed by his, and she couldn’t get out a coherent word. Her chest rose and fell in short, panicked bursts—and then she heard something fall to the floor. But before she could gather her wits, there came a rustling sound, and something stiff and firm pressed against her b****t and dragged slowly across it.

Unlike the soft, yielding sensation she couldn’t quite make sense of before, this one was unmistakable. It crinkled and rustled under his merciless hand.

A red ink pad. An ink stamp pad, without a shadow of a doubt.

Asha shoved Harriet’s shoulder hard. He, who had been pressing against her so forcefully, allowed himself to be pushed back without resistance. The ease of a man who had achieved his purpose. He had barely been pushed back to the armrest of the sofa, but Asha—laid bare as she was—was a sight beyond sensual.

The position of leaning back on her hands with her weight behind her thrust her b*****s upward—they were not merely beautiful but arrestingly, devastatingly so. What made it worse was that everything else—every article of clothing, every accessory—remained perfectly in place. It was more obscene than a naked w***e.

Above all, the fact that this was the beloved only daughter of the noble Halswein house and the Countess of Bellstein made the depravity of it surge up all the more powerfully.

Asha blinked, steadying her ragged breath as she tried to piece together what had just happened.

A small, shallow tin rolling on the floor. The contract, crumpled in his palm. And this—staining her left n****e in vivid red—was unmistakably, undeniably… a seal stamp pad.

Having grasped the full picture, Asha let out a shriek.

“Harriet!”

He’s insane, he’s insane, he’s insane.

With every heavy step Asha took, the startled eyes of servants landed on her. A buoyant, bouncing gait born of happiness was one thing—but the sight of the Countess moving with frantic, hunted urgency was something none of them had ever witnessed.

Asha was well aware of the curious stares following her. And yet she couldn’t slow down.

She had remembered to straighten her clothing as she fled the study, but she was terrified that the sharp eyes of the servants would somehow see through it and discover the truth hidden beneath.

Thud—!

Asha burst into her room with frantic steps, slammed the door hard, and then—slowly—slid down it and crumpled to the floor. Her expensive skirts bunched beneath her without a shred of elegance, yet the figure surrounded by those skirts was anything but ungraceful.

Her flushed cheeks still held the heat of what had just transpired. This subtle difference transformed her—usually so bright and girlish—into something that looked like a fully ripened woman.

He told me to get down like a dog.

He used my b****t as a seal stamp for a contract!

What had begun as something close to shock gradually shifted into an attempt to work out when exactly his depraved thoughts had started. But no matter how hard she turned it over in her mind, she couldn’t arrive at a single plausible theory.

Having your future husband investigated before marriage was an entirely ordinary part of the process. Given that the beloved only daughter of Halswein was being given away, the investigation into Harriet had been more thorough than most. According to the many reports she’d received before the wedding, he was one of the rare few gentlemen who never visited brothels, and his romantic history was exceedingly simple—what little there was consisted of brief, tepid relationships with women of matching station. He’d been so thoroughly consumed by work that rumors of him being a eunuch had even circulated.

And yet that same gentle, courteous, utterly wooden man had—

How—?!

‘Get down like a dog, Asha.’

“My lady?”

“Eek—!”

Lost in replaying his words, Asha jolted violently at the sudden call. The one addressing her was none other than her personal maid, Cecile. Cecile seemed to have sensed that her mistress was out of sorts—she was holding the soft shawl Asha favored.