On Rational Marital Life - Chapter 33

That evening, Layla stood before Blake.

She had made her decision, so there was no need to drag things out. Jefferson would be dismissed, but a far bigger problem loomed within the estate itself.

The Burman estate was like a barely functioning cogwheel—worn-out teeth, missing handles, an old machine moving forward only by inertia. The problems were numerous.

Blake’s expression as he faced Layla was unreadable. His lips twitched in anticipation of what she might say, though he furrowed his brow to suppress any visible reaction.

His gaze was shamelessly direct, sweeping over her face, down to her chest, and along the curve of her body.

For some time, Layla had avoided nights with Blake, using the excuse that she needed to study in advance to properly teach Jerry. That didn’t mean Blake had simply accepted it without complaint.

“Give me control over the estate.”

“Aren’t you already managing it?”

He had been expecting something more interesting, yet all she wanted was to handle household affairs.

“I mean full control. This house needs a proper steward and head maid. The hiring and training of staff, reviewing the financial records—all of it needs oversight. I’ll work with Mr. Whaler to ensure there aren’t any conflicts.”

“And why now?”

Blake responded with feigned indifference. He didn’t particularly care what Layla did. Even if she indulged in luxury, it wouldn’t put a dent in his wealth, and no matter how much she scurried about within the household, her influence was limited.

As long as she wasn’t meeting another man.

The sudden thought caused his brows to twitch sharply. Layla misinterpreted his reaction, assuming he was displeased with her request.

“I suggested this before, but you refused.”

“Exactly. Back then, you didn’t insist. So why now?”

She had once vowed to let things flow as they would, yet she herself had failed to truly accept her reality.

Some had called her lucky—escaping prison for embezzlement charges only to marry the diplomatic envoy of Strover.

But Layla was meant to be the Crown Princess. If nothing had gone wrong, that would have been her future.

Instead, everything had fallen apart. Before she could even adjust, she had been forced to marry someone other than the Crown Prince and take on the role of the Burman estate’s mistress.

A temporary mistress, set to divorce in two years.

But that meant that until then, she was the mistress of this household.

“…Because it’s my duty.”

But Blake drew the same line she had once drawn.

“I never expected you to take on that role.”

“Blake, this isn’t about trying to please you. As your wife—no, as the lady of this estate—I am simply doing what I must.”

“Most people would be desperate for a break, yet my wife insists on working. How admirable.”

“…That’s a privilege for those who have experienced rest. I wasn’t raised that way.”

Layla gave a bitter smile, and Blake licked his lips.

His wife had never been particularly defiant before—though, of course, that was because he had always pushed her into submission. But now, as she sat before him, looking up at him with a quiet determination, wanting something from him… he found himself rather enjoying it.

To the point that his body responded.

‘This wasn’t even my usual type.’

Acknowledging his reaction, Blake leaned back in his chair, resting one arm lazily on the armrest.

Before Layla, he became the very image of an arrogant ruler.

“If you need my permission, then you should try persuading your husband. That, too, is part of a wife’s duty.”

He didn’t spell it out, but Layla understood perfectly well. After all, she had seen how he operated before.

Her face flushed red.

“Blake, I’m being serious!”

“So am I.”

“…Is that really so important to you?”

“Of course. A passionate night with one’s beloved wife—every husband dreams of it. A man’s confidence is built on how much he’s loved by his wife.”

Blake spoke as if it were a self-evident law, written into the very fabric of existence.

Layla was momentarily speechless at the absurdity of it.

Blake clenched his jaw. He had never lost a hunt before.

Her sharp glare, her defiant stance—it was all the more alluring.

But this was a battle Blake could not lose.

Soon, Layla surrendered.

“…What do you want me to do?”

“Suck it.”

Blake leaned back and spread her legs.

“I want to see my wife get horny while sitting between her husband’s legs and sucking his cock.”

“Ugh, you—! How could you?”

Layla’s flushed eyes darted hesitantly between Blake’s face and his lower body.

Blake hadn’t originally planned to demand something like this. But seeing her so desperate only made him want to tease her further.

A small, flustered creature barking in protest—there was no real threat in her defiance. He simply wanted to see the moment she surrendered before him.

“Is that all the determination you have?”

Layla couldn’t hide her turmoil. Her trembling gaze met Blake’s, revealing her hesitation.

Savoring the taste of victory, Blake smiled deeply.

“Is that really the extent of your desperation?”

* * *

Layla stared at the floor, her lips pressed tightly together as she bit down on them. Her hands clenched the fabric of her dress, gripping it tightly.

Blake leaned back in his chair, sliding it slightly backward—creating just enough space for Layla to step between his legs.

When he opened the front of his pants, a dark red genitalia popped out with a thud. It seemed like the child’s fist was attached to his arm. From the tip of his pants, a little bit of impatient Cooper’s fluid flowed out. The strange smell of his crotch spread through the air.

Blake licked his dry lips and looked up at Layla. He enjoyed the tension without urging her.

Layla, who had turned her head and tightly shut her eyes, mustered up her courage and opened her eyelids. However, she soon averted her eyes when she saw Blake’s erect genitalia.

“Did you take a bath?”

“I did.”

‘I did this morning.’

After rolling through the dust during morning training, he took a bath.

Despite his rough personality, he was unusually clean for a mercenary—he couldn’t stand filth. Even on the battlefield, he would wipe himself down with a damp cloth at night, to the point where his subordinates would tease him, saying not even women were that meticulous about cleanliness.

“You’re lying! You haven’t even done it yet! T-That’s dirty, how could you put that in your… mouth…?”

Blake quickly pulled the tablecloth aside and poured himself a cup of tea. He wiped my erect penis with the wet tablecloth. As if that wasn’t bad enough, the rough cotton cloth stiffened at the root.

‘We’re about to start and you shouldn’t be hard already.’

He scolded his impatient penis in his mind.

He knew he’d regenerate quickly after ejaculating, but he wanted to enjoy the first sensation. He’d forced his cock into Layla’s mouth before, when she was horny, and made her suck it. But this was different. She was dressed nicely and sucking it voluntarily, even though she didn’t want to.

Even before they started, just seeing Layla standing neatly in front of his penis made him want to cum.

Just thinking about what was about to happen made his mouth dry. Blake’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard.

He had always despised the idea of forcing a woman—he considered it the pathetic act of a man with no skill.

But the woman before him was different.

Heat surged in his chest and lower abdomen, his body reacting instantly.

‘Surprisingly… this might be to my taste.’

“I cleaned up, didn’t I? Even used warm tea to make it nice and fresh. Now, get to it.”

“Ugh…”

Blake urged Layla forward, watching as she hesitated—her gaze flickering to his length before quickly shrinking back, only to step forward again as if summoning her courage.

It felt like taming a wild beast, and the slow, uncertain moments were exhilarating.

This was the kind of moment where one had to remain patient—if he pushed too hard, she might retreat entirely. He had to let her come to him on her own.

“If you don’t want to, then don’t. It’s not like I need you to manage the estate.”

“I-I’ll do it!”

Knowing something in theory and actually doing it were two entirely different things.

Blake was not the type to wait patiently.

Layla knelt demurely between his legs, keeping her posture small, as if trying to avoid touching him. She couldn’t bring herself to look directly at him.

She gathered her hair, twisting it up behind her head, exposing her small ears, delicate nape, and hesitant expression.

The once-dignified woman now sat meekly between his legs, her face mere inches from his arousal.

More than the act itself, it was this moment—the anticipation, the sight of her hesitating—that sent Blake’s heart racing.

He observed Layla closely.

She took a deep breath, steadying herself. Though there was still some distance between them, her subtle fragrance reached him.

The scent stirred something inside him, sending a tingling sensation through his chest.

Layla clasped her hands in front of her chest, as if in solemn prayer, and closed her eyes before leaning in toward Blake’s length.

A faint crease formed between her brows, her expression tightening—perhaps from catching the distinct scent of his skin.

Her slightly parted eyes tensed, her lips opening hesitantly.

For a moment, small, pearly-white teeth flashed before disappearing, revealing the glistening, dark red softness inside, slick with moisture.

Unconsciously, Blake licked his own dry lips.

Layla’s lips brushed against the tip—lightly, almost by accident.

It was the kind of fleeting contact one might experience in a minor collision between carriages or when being jostled in a crowded ballroom.

A brief press of soft, warm mucosa—then she recoiled, startled, her eyes widening in shock.

A surge of pleasure struck Blake without warning, and his hands instinctively gripped her shoulders.

“Kh—!”

A groan escaped his lips, followed by a hard spurt of cum. Blake impatiently wrapped his hand around his cock and flicked it quickly. White cum splashed onto Layla’s face. The cum that ran down her face trickled into her open, surprised lips.

“Ah!”

Layla blinked in surprise. She looked up at Blake, unsure of what was happening.

She parted her lips, and a milky white stream of ejaculate clung between them, then broke off in a thin thread.

Unable to tear his eyes away from her wet lips, Blake swallowed dryly. His ejaculated penis quickly became erect again.

Layla’s face, oblivious to Blake’s ejaculation beneath her, lit up as she spoke with his cum on her lips.

“Blake, you’re cumming, aren’t you?”

“Tch, not yet! Suck it. I said I would only allow it if you sucked the penis.”

Blake groaned as he ran his thumb over Layla’s lips, wiping the cum off.

He urged Layla like a generous king. His neck turned red.

“I’ll hold it in this time, so suck it well.”