Lady Class - Chapter 28 (M)

“Ah, Kahn! Hah!”

Rackley let out a moan, as if even the sensation of the wine trickling down her skin was a pleasure in itself. A river of crimson flowed down, soaking her breasts, trailing over her stomach, and making its way toward the soft curls below.

And then, Kahn drank—sipping the wine that had been warmed by her body. The taste clung to his lips, sweet and intoxicating, melting into his senses.

“Ah… ahh, Kahn… it feels good… ahh!”

Her pubic hair was drenched in wine, as if she had incontinent herself after her climax.

The wine that had pooled at the tip of her pubic hair trickled down through the cracked red petals as she twisted her waist.

Her sensitive insides came alive.

The wine trickled further down, wetting her pussy as if it were his ejaculate.

Kahn pressed his glans against it.

“Hmph, hmph.”

The sharp, hard glans pressed against her red flesh, arousing her anxiety. There was a thrill that was both anxious and dangerous.

What would happen if there was an affair?

How nice it would be if his penis pierced and stirred.

“Kahn.”

Rackley wrapped her arms around Kahn, pulling him down as their lips met.

She knew he didn’t love her. To him, she was just a client.

Rackley was not the type to risk her life on a fleeting moment of emotion. She wasn’t passionate or reckless enough for that. Right now, just his warmth, just the knowledge that she had aroused him, was enough.

“Ahhh—!”

“Ngh—!”

He released himself onto her body.

His breath came in ragged gasps, his muscles tensing as he finished. After a few light thrusts, he let out a final shuddering sigh—but his recovery was quick.

Soon, he straightened his posture, his gaze dark and intent.

“Now,” he murmured, a smirk curling at his lips, “shall we take our time and truly enjoy this?”

With that, Kahn signaled the beginning of something more.

 

***

 

“Ah, Kahn, what do I do… ngh, no, stop…”

Tears welled in Rackley’s eyes as she shook her head. Her red hair swayed wildly before Kahn’s eyes.

She was straddling him, legs spread over his waist as he leaned back against the headboard.

Her hands pressed against his chest, trembling uncontrollably. The movement pushed her full breasts together, making them look even more enticing.

“Hic… hnn, Kahn… no more… I can’t…”

“If you hate it so much, you can stop. But how can you tell me to stop while you’re the one moving?”

“Kahn…”

He was right.

Kahn merely rested his hands on her parted thighs, stroking them gently. Occasionally, he would grasp her breasts or take her hardened peaks into his mouth, but she was the one moving on her own.

“Ahh… ah, hnn…”

Rackley couldn’t stop.

She sat on Kahn’s penis and moved her hips, pressing the wax against the hard, vascularized shaft and grooved glans.

Masturbating.

She didn’t touch herself, and she didn’t touch her clit, but she masturbated by pressing her pussy against the man’s penis. The excitement spread like a fire in a dry field.

A fire cannot be stopped—
Not until it has burned everything to ashes.

“Ah… haa… Kahn… Kahn…”

“Damn it, if you were a courtesan, you could have swallowed a king whole.”

“Kahn!”

Losing the last of his restraint, Kahn grabbed the back of Rackley’s head and crashed his lips against hers.

Their angles misaligned, his tongue plunging so deep it nearly reached her throat—yet she clung to him even tighter.

“Wrap your legs around me.”

Saying that, Kahn pulled Rackley into his arms. As she wrapped her legs around his waist, he gripped her hips and lifted her effortlessly.

“Kyaa!”

With long strides, he carried her to the window. The cool glass pressed against her bare back, sending a shiver through her body.

Kahn took hold of the curtain and placed it in her hands.

“Hold on tight.”

“Ah—!”

And then, he began to move.

He hadn’t entered her yet, but his intense movements made it feel just as heated and overwhelming.

Like burning the last log in the fire, Kahn pulled Rackley’s hips toward him, pressing their bodies together with no space in between as he rubbed against her.

“Ahhh—!”

“Ngh—!”

Climax overtook them both, their shoulders trembling in its wake.

Kahn turned her around, gripping her breasts firmly as his fingers slid down between her legs.

His penis, still stiff from one ejaculation, slid between her legs. It rested against his finger-biting vaginal orifice.

His finger slid in, stimulating the hot flesh of her gaping maw.

“Ah, ah…….”

“Not yet, not yet.”

His deep voice whispered in Rackley’s ear.

Smack!

Rackley felt his spine straighten and clung to the curtain. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out from the hard impact.

With a dull slap of his hips, he touched her deep inside. Her clit crushed against his rough palm.

A tingling sensation of pleasure. A muffled cry erupted from her.

“Aah!”

Kahn swallowed a groan.

She was unbelievably hot inside.

Every time he thrust upward from behind, her inner walls clenched around him, tightening as if in a desperate attempt to keep him there.

Her legs, slick with desire, wrapped around him, holding him in place. If he just adjusted the angle slightly—if he let it happen, pretended it was an accident—

‘She would be mine.’

His dry throat bobbed with a rough swallow.

Desire waged war against reason.

The perfect prey lay before him—offering her body, letting him taste her—but never allowing him to claim her fully.

It drove him mad.

‘Just a little more.’

A little deeper.

The frustration of denied desire made Kahn’s movements rougher, his thrusts more forceful.

Rackley’s bare breasts were pressed against the cold glass of the window, but he didn’t stop. His fingers worked relentlessly, his hips grinding against her.

“Rackley.”

Did the longing burn fiercer because he couldn’t fully have her?

Murmuring her name, he pulled her closer, his teeth grazing against the nape of her neck.

Smack!

“Ahhh—!”

A sharp cry escaped her lips.

Kahn swallowed the sound, capturing her mouth in his own.

 

***

 

Swallowed by the pleasure Kahn had given her, Rackley had reached her peak, her energy completely drained. Usually, she would collapse into unconsciousness and wake late the next day. But today, her eyes opened early.

Kahn was still asleep, his arm draped heavily over her shoulder.

At the estate, she had always woken up alone in an empty bed. But now, she was wrapped in his warmth, held securely in his arms.

Before even opening her eyes, she could feel the weight of his arm around her, the steady heat of his body. When she looked up, she saw the firm line of his collarbone.

His broad chest. The muscles sculpted with precision. The thick veins that bulged along his strong neck when he tensed. His sharp jawline.

His steady breath stirred her hair.

Rackley gazed up at him.

A stunning, charismatic gigolo.

Arrogant and elegant, he sometimes seemed more noble than actual nobles. But now, asleep, he looked like the most harmless beast in the world.

This moment felt like a dream.

His dark lashes rested gently over his closed eyes, his straight nose casting a shadow over his cheek. He often spoke with crude words, but his lips had an undeniable refinement to them. Even the way his black hair tumbled across his face was mesmerizing. She took in every detail, memorizing him.

First love.

For Rackley, Kahn was her first love.

She had seen noblemen and young lords before, imagining a suitable husband, but never had she felt something strong enough to call love.

And yet, in just one week, she had fallen for Kahn.

How had this happened?

She had always believed herself to be rational, never one to act on impulse. Yet, she had been completely undone by his touch, his lips.

Kahn was too intense.

Too much sunlight will dry a plant to death. It needs balance—just the right temperature, the right amount of light and water. Even when storms or droughts come, a plant endures because those hardships pass.

Kahn was the same.

No matter how wonderful he was, no matter that he was her first love—he was a passing storm.

If he stayed too long, if the storm never ended, she would not survive.

Because this is the last time…

She pressed her lips gently against his. His warmth, his bare chest against hers, made her heart race, stirring dangerous desires again.

The early morning light crept into the room.

She ran her fingers through his hair one last time before slipping out of bed.

The marks he had left on her skin—deep red traces of his touch—proved that their time together had not been a dream.

“Thank you.”

It was time to return to the capital.

“She departed this morning.”

As soon as Kahn woke up, Brand informed him of Rackley’s departure. Kahn gave a slight nod and finished his hot coffee.

When he awoke, he was alone in bed. The small book of essays that had been on the bedside table was gone, confirming that she had truly left.

There was no travel bag, no lingering presence of hers—just an immaculate, empty room. For a brief moment, it almost felt as if he had dreamed the entire thing.

“I advised her to rest before leaving, but she insisted she had to reach the capital by today.”

Brand’s tone carried a hint of reproach. Though the servants lived in the annex, it was impossible for them to be unaware of what had transpired in the villa. Knowing how things had unfolded between Rackley and Kahn, Brand seemed unsettled by the fact that she had left without a proper farewell.

“Has Roy returned from the Solomon villa?”

“Yes, he just got back. He saw them leaving.”

“Then it’s meaningless now.”

If necessary, he could use his status to exert pressure, but that would only reveal his presence here to the outside world—something he wished to avoid.

Kahn ignored the simple breakfast of bread and fruit, drinking only his coffee. He had no appetite.

Brand, watching him with concern, finally spoke up.

“She is a count’s daughter, my lord. What do you plan to do? You will inevitably cross paths in high society once she returns to the capital.”

“For now, I’ll stay secluded at the estate. At least until she’s married.”

He voiced the thought he had already considered.

“She’s of marrying age, so I assume it will happen quickly. Besides, she left here with quite a thorough education.”

“But the aphrodisiac—that was excessive. She is still a noblewoman.”

Kahn lifted his head sharply.

“Aphrodisiac?”

A single word that could not be overlooked.

Especially not by him.

Because of his grandfather, Kahn despised aphrodisiacs.

Unaware of this, Brand assumed Kahn was simply feigning ignorance—after all, he had witnessed how Baron Walidon Harverden’s friends often indulged in debauchery at the villa.

Though Rackley had only been here for a few days, she had treated Brand with the utmost respect. Out of loyalty to her, he felt compelled to at least voice his disapproval.

“I found the bottle in the trash.”

“What are you talking about? A bottle? You mean a medicine vial?”

Brand pulled a small bottle from his pocket and placed it on the table.

Kahn’s expression immediately hardened at the sight of the brown glass container.

The cork bore a tiny engraving—a distinct insignia.

A bisected oval, a mark he recognized all too well.

Kahn brought the bottle to his nose, inhaling its scent, and his face twisted in disgust.

“This is—”