“Ah, Damie…!!”
Acard grabbed her thick hair and pulled it back. Then he thrust his cock very deep into that lewdly twitching hole.
At that moment, he suddenly felt a warm and sticky sensation in his lower abdomen, and his eyes snapped open. The sweet woman’s naked body had disappeared somewhere, and he was lying alone on a wet blanket.
“…Fuck.”
It was a dream.
Thanks to this, Acard faced the most humiliating morning in history. He wasn’t some innocent pubescent boy, yet he had a wet dream! Him, the great Acard Valerian!!
It was truly frustrating. Acard looked at the damp blanket with self-loathing eyes. However, the red-haired beauty who should have been lying on it was nowhere to be seen.
“Damie Primula…”
Acard gritted his teeth. He thought all women were the same. No matter how special a beauty seemed, once you stripped her and had relations a few times, she was just a person in the end.
So Acard didn’t have any particular illusions about women. He had never considered any of them special. But at this moment, he felt like he would sell his soul just to sleep with Damie Primula one more time.
“Ha.”
But that possibility was more remote than ever. Acard sat on the edge of the bed, slowly rubbing his face with both hands.
‘She never looked back even once.’
That day, her back, trembling with anger, was thin and straight. Before Acard could reach out to grab her, that back quickly moved away. As if being in the same space with him was horrifying.
It was easy to appease a woman’s anger. Usually, just offering an expensive gift with a melancholic look and uttering some sweet words was enough for them to calm down on their own.
If that didn’t work, Acard would pretend to be angry and turn away. Then the woman would be startled and try to hold him back.
It was quite ironic, but they got angry to possess Acard. They pretended to be difficult, hoping he would be considerate of their feelings, and ultimately wanted him to be dependent on them.
But their plans were already flawed at the point where Acard saw through it all. Rather, he would use this to his advantage, pretending to give them what they wanted while only satisfying his own desires.
‘But that wouldn’t work with her.’
Probably not. Acard licked his lips with deep regret. He personally gathered the soiled sheets and threw them in the trash, as if discarding his lingering feelings for Damie Primula.
Starting the day like this in the morning, Acard was understandably in a low mood.
He was supposed to visit Count Perilla’s house for work today. Reshid Perilla, whom he encountered there, was still infuriating as ever. He somehow noticed the small frame that Acard had glanced at and smiled.
“Ah, that? It’s a portrait I received as a gift. Isn’t it pretty?”
“…A portrait? That scribble?”
Acard frowned and asked. The person in the picture certainly looked like someone with blonde hair and a white face. But it was so messy and dirty from excessive paint that it was hardly bearable to look at.
That wasn’t a portrait, it was abstract art. Reshid smiled with a relaxed expression at Acard’s cynical view.
“My! The lady who drew that portrait for me would be very hurt if she heard that.”
“So what.”
Why should he care if someone he didn’t even know got hurt? When Acard said this, Reshid spoke with a sly, fox-like face.
“It’s someone you know well, actually.”
Damie Primula, Reshid whispered annoyingly.
It was the name he least wanted to hear today. Acard glared irritatedly at Reshid’s lips. Those delicate lips, as if drawn with the thinnest fountain pen tip, smirked at him.
“You might not know, but when I was young, I learned art from a tutor like Lady Damie. It was such a joyful time. Even receiving such a heartfelt portrait as a gift.”
I know her history that you don’t. Reshid’s face was triumphant, as if boasting.
Normally, Acard wouldn’t have batted an eye at his pretentiousness. But was it because of the dream he had this morning? Right now, he wanted to punch that pretty face.
If it weren’t for work, he might have done so already. But he couldn’t do that to a colleague in the same boat. So Acard gritted his teeth and instead of his fist, he lashed out at Reshid’s face with words.
“Instead of being distracted by women, why don’t you manage your sister properly?”
“…What do you mean by that?”
Reshid’s eyes narrowed, sensing something ominous in Acard’s words.
“What do I mean?”
Acard smiled maliciously, recalling Louise Perilla’s cheerful conversation he had overheard in the storage room.
*** *** *** *** ***
Stepping on Reshid’s pride on the way back was quite enjoyable, though the relentless rain dampened his mood.
Had he grown accustomed to the dry Northern weather? The clammy humidity was irritating. Acard ran his fingers through his light-colored hair and unbuttoned his now-sticky shirt. The feeling of the thin fabric clinging to his chest muscles was somewhat unpleasant.
‘I just want to go home.’
Sensing his master’s thoughts, the coachman urged the horse forward. Acard closed his eyes, feeling the refreshing night breeze coming in through the slightly open window. The scent of the wet forest softly permeated through his tousled hair.
However, the nighttime journey didn’t last long. Suddenly, the carriage slowed down, then came to a complete stop.
‘What’s going on?’
He heard the coachman talking to someone outside. The other party sounded distressed, pleading in an uneasy tone.
“I’m the coachman of the Count Primulas’s family. My lady’s carriage wheel is stuck in the muddy road, and we can’t move. Could you please lend us some assistance?”
…Who did he say the carriage belongs to?
Acard’s eyes gleamed like a leopard lurking in the shadows. This must be a chance given by the heavens. An opportunity to taste that sweet body again until he was sick of it, and finally rid himself of any lingering feelings for Damie Primula.
Acard licked his lips and smiled. He didn’t even need to look in the mirror inside the carriage before stepping out. One of his greatest weapons, his appearance, would be, as always, impeccably perfect.
“Damie.”
Acard spoke in the most seductive voice he could muster, like a siren trying to enchant someone with its voice.
“Stop standing in the rain and come inside the carriage.”
His low voice, cutting through the humid night air, sounded quite convincing, even to himself. Drawn by it, Damie finally turned her gaze toward him.
Acard looked at his reflection in her beautiful eyes. The man with tanned skin and slightly wet hair had eyes gleaming with lust, as if he would devour the woman before him without leaving a single bone behind.
This wouldn’t do. Acard quickly hid his ravenous predator-like gaze. Then, feigning a more gentle tone, he called out to her again.
“Stop being stubborn. You’ll catch a cold.”
It was at that moment. Damie, who had been observing him as if scrutinizing, lowered her gaze.
‘Hm?’
When she raised her head again, her eyes had changed. Damie looked resigned, as if she had given up on something.
Her dimmed blue eyes resembled shattered sapphires. The moment he saw that look, Acard felt a strange chill in a corner of his heart. But before he could ponder why, Damie climbed into his carriage.
“…Well then, I’ll take your offer.”
Finally, she had entered his domain. Voluntarily, at that.
Acard took a deep breath. From the woman sitting next to him, a subtle floral fragrance and the sweet scent of wet skin wafted over. It was the scent of Damie Primula.
The moment he realized this, his body heated up. Acard watched her profile with a licking gaze. Her white skin, glistening with droplets, looked incredibly soft, and the ample cleavage barely visible through the wet dress was tempting.
He wanted to devour her whole right then and there. But he had failed in his hunts several times before, and those memories had made him a more cautious predator.
“You must be cold. Here, wrap this around you so your body doesn’t get cold.”
Acard draped his coat over her shoulders, pretending to be considerate. It was to lower her guard.
“…Thank you.”
She must have been cold, as she didn’t refuse his kindness. Her fingers grasping the coat collar were pale.
Shivering in the rain for so long had left her tired and weakened. Like any other bad man, Acard didn’t feel sympathy for Damie’s vulnerable state, but instead saw an opportunity.
“If you don’t warm up quickly, you’ll catch a cold.”
He whispered, extending his arm to wrap around Damie’s shoulders. Her body stiffened instantly. Ignoring this, he pulled her closer, and she awkwardly fell into his embrace.
“Now, give me your hand.”
Acard knew that when he had the flow on his side, he should keep pressing forward relentlessly. Before Damie could refuse, he grabbed her hand and flinched.
“…It’s cold.”
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