5. Noble
After a bout of intense lovemaking that left her body languid and spent, Evril regained her senses to the wet, teasing sensation stirring her below. She cracked her eyes open to find herself on Gophrid's bed, bathed in the sparkle of morning sunlight, with a golden head buried between her spread thighs, lapping eagerly at her.
The red ropes that had bound her upper body were gone. But angry red marks lingered in their place, and at the sight of them, Evril suddenly recalled the previous night's events, startling with a sharp gasp.
As she snapped to full awareness, arching her back and trying to clamp her thighs shut, a strong grip seized her ankles.
"Awake at last, my lady?"
Gophrid stood by the bed in a thin indoor robe, his voice soft and smooth. With a nod toward Yena, he prompted her to resume, and she delved deep once more, stimulating Evril's most sensitive depths.
Evril flushed crimson with humiliation, while Gophrid watched her expression with evident delight, a smile playing on his lips. The bulge straining against his robe betrayed his arousal plainly.
"Yena, still untouched down there?"
As Yena continued lapping in response to his low query, she murmured, "Yes... Master."
"Very well. Since I've received my gift, it's only proper to break her in."
Gophrid approached from behind Yena, who was bent over with her face buried in Evril's thighs, her tongue teasing relentlessly. Evril thought she'd misheard, but her eyes widened and her breath caught at what followed.
Gophrid gripped Yena's waist just above her hips, parting his robe to aim his thick, rigid length before thrusting it deep inside her.
Yena's tongue halted mid-lick, her face twisting in pain. As Gophrid began slow, deliberate movements from behind, he said coolly, "Don't stop. The lady looks startled by the interruption in her entertainment."
Yena's waist and hips trembled from the agony of her first time. Gasping for breath, she lowered her head again and resumed licking Evril's folds.
Gophrid smirked at Evril's shocked gaze, thrusting a few more times before losing interest and pulling out completely. As his length withdrew, a thin trickle of bright red blood ran down the inside of Yena's pale thigh.
Evril could scarcely believe the scene unfolding before her eyes. Moreover, Yena's tongue, which had so inflamed her body the night before, now failed to arouse her in the slightest. Whether from the shock of what she'd just witnessed or because mere physical stimulation wasn't enough anymore, she couldn't say. But her body, lying there on the bed, felt chillingly cold.
Gophrid stepped away from the bed and settled onto the sofa, legs spread wide. His glistening member peeked through the gap in his thin robe. Yena rose, fetched a wet white towel from a basin under the table, and meticulously cleaned him. Crimson bloodstains bloomed on the sodden cloth. Once it was sufficiently clean, she patted him dry with a fresh towel, then gauged his expression.
At his nod, she parted her lips and bathed him in warm saliva.
Evril, propped up halfway on the bed clutching the covers, stared wide-eyed at Gophrid lounging on the sofa and Yena kneeling beside him, servicing him with devoted care.
When her gaze met Gophrid's golden eyes, he smiled faintly and gestured for Yena to stop.
"Jealous, perhaps, my lady?"
As he rose slowly from the sofa and approached, Evril hastily averted her eyes and shook her head. His large hand enveloped her shoulder, gently but firmly pressing her back onto the bed. Her clutching hands released the covers, and she felt his thick, rigid length probing between her thighs.
"I thought Yena had wetted it enough, but you're drier than expected."
The tip met tight resistance, and Gophrid supported her back with one hand while grasping her calf with the other, spreading her wide and plunging deep. Evril bit her lip against the raw friction scraping her sensitive inner walls.
"Nngh—"
The brutal invasion felt like it might tear her apart. Grimacing in pain, she endured. Gophrid moved his hips languidly for a moment before straightening with a bored expression.
Relief flooded her as the pain eased and her body relaxed into emptiness—but it wasn't his length she missed; it was the absence of that overwhelming fullness.
Gophrid rubbed his chin, displeased, then beckoned Yena, who knelt before the sofa gazing at the bed.
"The lady hasn't recovered from last night. I wouldn't want to strain her."
As Yena drew near, he said coldly to her, "There's lubricant in the drawer. Prepare it. Open the back today as well."
Evril swallowed hard and looked away from the explicit display that followed. Yena's body seemed as virginal there as elsewhere; even slathered generously with lubricant, it clenched rigidly. She betrayed no complaint, merely grimacing in silence as she endured.
After a prolonged session, Gophrid returned to the sofa, his expression one of sated languor.
After a long silence, he addressed Evril on the bed in a low voice.
"My lady, our wedding draws near."
This autumn—Evril recalled the day her grandparents, the earl and countess, eagerly anticipated.
"After the ceremony, like any other Kingston, I intend to avoid sullying the family honor with scandals or blemishes. Thus, I wish for you to be my perfect partner—mentally, which you already satisfy admirably, and physically as well."
His low voice echoed through the room, and Evril flinched at the words perfect partner.
Gophrid's golden gaze deepened as he regarded her.
"As for your little issue, I've consulted an expert, who says childbirth will resolve it."
Her little issue—clearly, his size was simply too much for her, making every coupling painful. Except for last night in this room, bound and helpless.
"To that end, we'll hasten our sacred union even before the wedding. From today, no more relying on those peculiar inventions from the Elkslon mages."
Evril thought of the purple potion she always drank afterward—an Elkslon creation that nobles abhorred for preventing conception if taken properly before and after.
"And I expect you to be faithful to me after marriage, as I will to you."
His final words were icily cold—low, sharp, and chilling. Evril shuddered at the sudden frost.
Did he know?
If she'd thought otherwise, it was naive folly. He was a Kingston. If he wanted to know something, he would. If he wanted to possess it, he could. With the right lineage, he could even claim the throne if he desired.
Evril bowed her head weakly under the warning in his sunken golden gaze.
—Knock knock.
A knock sounded at the door. When Gophrid didn't respond, a white paper slipped carefully under the gap.
At his gesture, Yena retrieved it and handed it to him deferentially. He read the note, then spoke to Evril in his usual tone.
"Lady Pratt is waiting in the first-floor drawing room, concerned for your health."
Evril bit her lip. This disheveled state could be hidden under a thick winter dress, but the deep marks on her wrists...
"It's winter—long gloves should suffice. Yena, attend to the lady. I must prepare to start my day as well."
He rose gracefully from the sofa toward the dressing room, then paused and fixed Evril with his gaze.
"I'll keep Yena here for the time being. If it troubles you, say the word anytime."
Evril lowered her eyes and bit her lip in silence.
It was a declaration, not a question. If he willed it, it would be so. He was a Kingston, after all—acutely aware of his power.
The silver lining, perhaps, was that his words stirred no ripple in her heart.