What Remains in the Damaged Place - Chapter 71

In the empty space left behind when the hem of his clothes fell away, something damp replaced him. Lirette flailed her arms aimlessly, her back arching into an unusual shape.

The marble at the edge of the bathtub pressed against her shoulder blade in a gentle curve, but the pain was insignificant.

“Ah, mmph.”

All her senses were overwhelmed by the stimulation from the man beneath her skirt.

As his tongue moved inside, her skirt billowed and deflated unpredictably. It was such a lewd sight, heating her eyelids despite the critical parts being out of view, which only fueled her wicked imagination.

The ceiling blurred and refocused repeatedly as Lirette looked up. Every breath she took in made her dizzy.

Seemingly displeased with her squirming legs as if trying to press her knees together, he grabbed her ankles, spreading her legs to hook them over the edge of the tub.

He then pushed his head even deeper inside.

The way he moved so insistently reminded her of a wild beast.

Her foot, precariously resting on the edge, stiffened, her toes stretching and curling repeatedly. This happened whenever she barely managed to exhale the breath she had drawn from deep within her chest.

“Stop… please.”

Her breathing faltered.

Just as her vision distorted, her lungs rippled with life.

After what felt like an eternity of making her skirt flutter, he slowly emerged from beneath.

Despite his earlier frenzied movements, his elegant features stood out under the soft light like a delicate flower.

However, his lips were unmistakably wet.

His red tongue peeked out, lazily sweeping across his upper lip. The way he licked at everything that clung to him threatened to scatter Lirette’s already fragile composure.

While she struggled to gather her thoughts, his hand crept forward.

Bit by bit, inch by inch.

One by one, the pieces of her drenched maid’s dress were peeled from her body and thrown out of the bathtub. The sound of them hitting the floor echoed like thunder in her ears, amplifying her already heightened nerves.

Without time to catch her breath, their lips met again.

Sometimes, it seemed as if he had an intense fascination with exploring every corner of her mouth.

Now, with nothing left to hide, his face gradually descended over her exposed chest. His smoothly sculpted nose pressed gently against her soft, pale skin as though it were molded from milk. As if influenced by his touch, the tender fruit of her breasts began to perk up ever so slightly.

Valderion’s dark hair brushed against her skin, tickling her and causing a gasp to escape Lirette’s lips.

The next moment, his mouth engulfed her now ripened flesh.

Instinctively, Lirette grasped his shoulders and hair. The notorious black locks of Valderion, which no one dared touch under the name of Justitia, became tangled in her fingers. Yet, of the two bodies emitting heat while pressed against the bathtub, neither seemed to care.

“Mmm, Duke…”

Valderion, who had been expertly working his lips while she sat on his lap, lifted his gaze.

His eyes were provocative.

“Say my name.”

“Ahh…”

Lirette, pressing against his shoulders, looked down at him with a face flushed with conflicting emotions. Valderion showed no signs of impulsiveness. Instead, what stood out more was the vivid flicker of his deep emotions.

Perhaps it was because he had earlier asked, “Do you still think I’m like Dylan?”

It felt like a kind of jealousy, a desire to distinguish himself clearly from Dylan. As if he hated being lumped together with him in her mind.

His name.

Valderion’s name.

It dawned on Lirette that she had never once uttered his name since they met.

He had said her name several times, but she hadn’t done the same.

It was as if, by calling him by title instead of name, she wanted to avoid acknowledging the hold he had over her due to Justitia.

That’s why this moment felt like a new trial for her.

When she hesitated to speak, the grip on her hips tightened, pulling her body closer to his with overwhelming strength, causing the water in the bathtub to ripple dangerously.

“Lirette.”

His voice, thick with moisture, stretched into her mind like honey.

Lirette, short of breath like someone feverish, twisted her chin away.

Valderion clicked his tongue softly.

As she turned her face from him, he bit her earlobe and parted her flesh with both hands. She could feel her skin stretching, and the thing that had been pressing painfully against her thigh slid smoothly into her with the help of the bathwater.

The unyielding way he entered her made Lirette feel as though something was creaking deep inside her mind.

How many times had this been?

A meaningless thought spun in her head.

This felt like an addiction.

The more they touched, the more they became entwined, the wetter and more blended they became…

It was like a single drop of water soothing her parched, barren soul.

It made her crave more, to want endlessly.

Lirette didn’t know this sensation.

She hadn’t known.

Not until she met him.

He had taught her, engraved it into her, made her learn this feeling.

Her hands, drenched with water, grasped desperately at the edge of the tub. As he adjusted his position beneath her to move more easily, he began a rhythmic motion, steadily pushing upwards from below.

His hand crept along her skin, reaching for the hidden mark under her hair.

Valderion clenched his jaw.

The more he touched it, the more heat bubbled up from within him.

Etching a name was like branding one’s possession.

Though he hadn’t placed it there himself.

Neither intentionally nor purposefully.

This was solely the will of the divine.

But that’s why he couldn’t suppress the surge of emotions rising within him.

He couldn’t shake the thought that she was a woman sent to him by the heavens. A woman so sacred, like destiny itself, who was bound to end up in his arms…

“Ah, wait… stop…!”

Unable to withstand his roughness, Lirette let out a pleading moan as she feebly struggled.

Her flushed face was soaked with moisture.

At first, it seemed like the bathtub water had splashed onto her, but soon she realized that wasn’t the case. Each time he moved skillfully, Lirette’s eyes became wetter with tears.

It was likely too much stimulation—being physically intertwined while having her name touched at the same time.

Valderion enjoyed her desperate squirming.

Truthfully, the disheveled look suited her, making her appear rather charming. Who would ever know this side of her? Even Dylan, who had possessed her for so long, wouldn’t know this face of hers.

This was a side of her that only he knew, only he could feel, and only he could possess.

“Ah… ha…!”

“Mm…”

The two of them quickly reached their peak.

Breathing heavily, Valderion slipped his fingers into Lirette’s silver hair, which was now wet. Despite being drenched, the soft texture of her hair twined between his fingers, which felt oddly satisfying.

“…Are you never going to say my name?”

Lirette’s shoulders flinched slightly.

He pressed his lips to the curve of her shoulders, which looked like snowy hills.

His kisses, starting from the junction of her arm, gradually traveled upward toward her face. He buried his face deeply into her neck, the sensation of their bodies connecting palpable.

Though submerged in hot water, his body felt even hotter than the bath.

For some reason, a sense of unease gnawed at her.

He had asked her a question, but Lirette did not respond.

She neither gave an answer nor voiced any questions of her own.

She simply remained silent.

That silence was what filled her with a subtle tension.

Especially now, with Valderion pressing his lips to her skin without pushing her further, his leisurely attitude only heightened that feeling.

And then, suddenly—

“Ah!”

Valderion stood up, lifting Lirette in his arms.

The water that had enveloped their bodies cascaded back into the bathtub with a loud splash.

Valderion stepped out of the tub, abandoning the warmth they had shared. Contrary to her expectation that he would carry her straight out of the bathroom, he turned toward one of the walls.

Light scattered across Lirette’s pupils as she lifted her gaze. In front of her was a large mirror, large enough to see their entire bodies—and the whole bathroom reflected in it.

Lirette, barely managing to plant her feet on the floor, instinctively twisted her body, as if ready to run.

But before she could move, his hand pressed firmly against her back, forcing her torso forward without giving her a chance to escape.

In that position, he pushed back the balance she had lost.

“Ugh…!”

“Hold on tight. Otherwise, you’ll fall.”

Lirette’s hands instinctively pressed against the mirror.

“Not that I’d mind… if you fell, I’d happily catch you.”

It was then that she saw her gasping reflection so clearly in the mirror. A moment later, Lirette realized he was toying with her deliberately.