The Nymph Wants to be Plundered - Chapter 67

“……!”

Evelyn’s soft lips met his in a stolen moment. Having slept soundly all morning and just drifted off again, her mouth was still moist, the plush warmth maddeningly enticing against his own. It set his desire ablaze.

Evelyn.

Was she awake? No—there was no way. She moved slower than a lame frog, let alone possessed the skill to feign sleep and tease him on purpose. She didn’t have the ability, let alone the audacity. Every one of Cassis’ senses assured him she was deep in slumber, yet for a moment, he hesitated.

The kiss, fleeting as water cupped in his palms, lasted only an instant before Evelyn’s head lolled limply to the left. Unwilling to let her lips escape, he hastily cradled the nape of her neck.

She was just as pliant in his hold, her body lax with sleep. When he tilted her head slightly, she stirred, her face twisting as if uncomfortable, her body shifting as though trying to slip free of his arm.

Where the hell do you think you’re going?

Instead of rousing her with the searing press of his mouth, he laid her back down gently. Even now, as his lower half raged against his reason, his touch remained tender. For the moment.

“Mmm… nn…”

“Talking in your sleep but no intention of waking? Fine. You broke our promise, so you’ll take your punishment.”

Spouting nonsense to justify himself, he moved to cover her—then paused, frowning at a glint of metal. The cold insignia pinned to his coat.

…It’ll be too cold.

Worried the gleaming ornament—already reflecting the candlelight too brightly—might touch her, Cassis acted fast. He shrugged off the cumbersome coat and flung it onto a chair before turning back to her, his gaze locking onto her still-shut lashes.

Heartless. Even as the man who’d held her close stared down with naked hunger, her breathing only grew deeper, more peaceful. No hint of waking. Is sleep really that precious?

Drunk on frustration, he finally leaned in, whispering playfully—

“After this, it’s all your fault.”

The second he vowed to claim her, spit pooled thick in his mouth. F**k.

Cassis knew this hunger—the way Evelyn’s body turned him into something ravenous. It wasn’t just about f*****g her. No, he wanted to ruin her. To lick every hollow of that milky skin until she sobbed, to bite her thighs hard enough to bruise, to mark her with his teeth until she carried the shape of him for days. He’d held back—she was fragile, after all—but if she ever begged for it… The thought alone made his c**k twitch.

“You like being face-down, don’t you?”

A dry laugh tore from his throat.

After all his effort to lay her out like a f*****g banquet, she had the nerve to squirm onto her belly again. Fine. If she wanted it this way, he’d take her from behind like an animal. He climbed onto the bed, fisted a hand in her hair, and dragged his tongue up the sweat-damp column of her neck.

“Hah—! Nn…!”

Her moan was sleep-slurred, but the way her back arched told him everything. Good—but not enough. He needed her limp and pliant, too lost in dreams to stop him from doing exactly what he wanted.

His left hand slid between her legs, fingers skating over her folds. Dry. Fuck, she was still asleep. The realization sent a vicious thrill through him. What if he bit her earlobe? Licked into her ear until she woke with a gasp? He craved the dazed flutter of her lashes, the way her c**t would clench around nothing when she realized he was the one touching her—

But no. Not yet.

His fingers crept higher, peeling her chemise up to expose the delicate wings of her shoulder blades. He scraped his nails down, slow and filthy, savoring the way her skin pebbled. Nothing. No shiver, no whimper. Cheeky little thing. When she was awake, she trembled at his lightest touch. Now? Like a f*****g statue.

A growl built in his chest. Time to fix that.

He pinned her hips with his weight, one arm snaking around to palm her tits through the flimsy fabric. The difference between them was obscene—her body slight enough to manhandle, his own coiled with enough strength to break her if he chose. The thought sent blood rushing south.

Imagine it. Her trying to run. His hand around her throat, dragging her back to bed—

A snarl twisted his lips. Stupid. She wasn’t going anywhere. Where would a nymph go without her f*****g tree? Without him?

The Hall of Glory? A joke. The world itself? Empty.

She had nothing but him.

And he’d make sure she never forgot it.

Shoving the thought aside, he yanked her petticoat up and shoved two fingers inside.

Dry. Tight.

A grin split his face. Rare. She was usually so f*****g wet for him. But like this—sleep-slack and unresisting—he could take his time.

And oh, he would.

There was just one thing to be careful of. If he carelessly dug into her dry p***y, she might get hurt. He couldn’t risk scratching her or drawing blood, so his fingers grew even more cautious, gliding through her pubic hair like silk, gently exploring.

“Mmm, ah… ha, ahh….”

Just as expected. When he touched the most sensitive part of her body, he finally got what he wanted. The moment he pulled her back from the distant haze of dreams, the silence between them shattered completely.