Chapter 127. Secret Rendezvous in the Dressing Room (2)
"Huh? I thought I heard something just now."
At that moment, Isabel's footsteps—who had been searching the room—clunked toward the dressing room.
Lucian and Catherine simultaneously gasped and froze their trembling bodies.
Click, rattle rattle.
Isabel grabbed the dressing room doorknob and tried to open it, but the door was firmly locked from the inside. Only a wooden door separated them now—so close that even the maid's breathing seemed audible.
"What the—? Even the dressing room's locked. Is Her Highness playing tricks on me?"
"Mmph!"
Lucian immediately clamped his large hand over Catherine's mouth. It was a necessary precaution—just in case the princess, overwhelmed by the extreme stimulation, couldn't hold back a loud moan.
"Your Highness, are you hiding in there?"
Isabel shook the dressing room door violently as she called out.
The tension was suffocating. Catherine's heart pounded so hard she thought it might burst, her fingers digging into Lucian's forearm.
But Lucian was different. Though tense, his gaze drifted downward—to the princess's pale buttocks glistening in the faint light seeping through the door crack, and the slick love juice trickling down her thighs. A violent excitement surged through him again.
The razor-thin margin between them and discovery—this precarious tension—only stoked his twisted desires more cruelly.
Squelch, squelch, squelch. Squelch.
"Mmph... Mmmph, nngh, ah—"
With only a thin door separating them from the maid, Lucian resumed thrusting, grinding his massive cock ruthlessly against Catherine's lower body.
One hand remained firmly sealed over her lips to prevent any screams from escaping, while the other reached over her dress to roughly knead her ample breasts. His hips pistoned wildly as the slick, wet sounds of their coupling filled the dangerously intimate space.
Squelch, squelch, squelch, squelch.
"Hahh... Hahh... Nngh—"
No matter how tightly the Count covered her mouth, he couldn't suppress the sweet, desperate gasps escaping Catherine's nose—her breath ragged from both pleasure and terror.
Clink—
A metallic sound, cold and final like a death sentence, echoed through the silent, secretive space. The sound of a key sliding into the lock.
"Your Highness, so you were hiding there. I just happened to have the dressing room key too. Hehehe."
At Isabel's playful voice from beyond the door, Catherine's heart plummeted.
"Huh?"
Rattle, rattle. Isabel turned the knob, but the door didn't budge—because inside, Catherine, drenched in sweat, was gripping the handle with all her strength, her face deathly pale.
"Your Highness, I'm worried about you. Aren't you a little old for hide-and-seek?"
Even as the maid's teasing scold reached them in that breathless moment, Lucian—pressed flush against Catherine's back—showed no signs of stopping.
Squelch, squelch, squelch, squelch.
"Mmmph! Ngh! Ah—!"
Catherine's stifled moans, trapped beneath Lucian's unyielding palm, sounded more like animalistic whimpers than human cries.
At any second, the door could swing open. Isabel might step inside. Yet Lucian's relentless thrusts showed no mercy.
If anything, he seemed to savor the perilous tension as seasoning—his rigid penis grinding even more brutally between Catherine's soft thighs and her thoroughly soaked pussy.
Catherine couldn't comprehend him. If that door opened now, everything would be over.
The kingdom's noble princess, caught in the arms of an outsider—her skirt hiked up, panting and moaning. Was this what he truly wanted? Did he desire their mutual ruin?
Yet even as resentment surged within her, Lucian's technique remained terrifyingly persistent.
His free hand worked at the ties of her dress, loosening the bodice until it slipped past her shoulders. Then, with a single tug, her bra came undone. As it fell away, Catherine's pert breasts dropped with gravity, and Lucian seized one in his palm.
"Nghh—! Hahh—!"
He squeezed roughly, as if crushing ripe fruit, his fingers flicking at her hardened nipple. At the same time, he bent his head, capturing her earlobe between his lips and sucking hard.
Squelch, squelch, squelch, squelch.
"Nngh! Ah—! Hah—!"
All the while, his hips never stopped—his furious cock grinding relentlessly against her virgin pussy.
"Haa..."
His ragged breath tickled her ear as his wet tongue traced a serpentine path down her slender, pale neck.
'Ah, the Count... No, we'll be caught... Any moment now... But it feels too good...'
Catherine's vision blurred. Logically, she knew she should shove him away, straighten her clothes—but against the overwhelming pleasure shooting up her spine, she was utterly helpless.
The closer they came to discovery, the more her lower body betrayed her—gushing obscene amounts of slick arousal to welcome his massive intrusion. The sensation of his tongue on her neck, his cruel grip on her breast, the scorching friction between her thighs—it was all so violently intoxicating.
"Nghh... Hahh... Ah—"
Catherine could only emit intermittent, sweetly sticky whimpers, her thighs rubbing together unconsciously.
"Your Highness! If you keep this up, I'll call the guards to break this door down!"
Catherine's stomach dropped.
'No!'
As she screamed internally, tears welled in her eyes from sheer terror and frustration. Isabel was stubborn—once she set her mind to something, she followed through.
Even with disaster looming, the man behind her refused to stop. If anything, he seemed to relish her tears, gripping her hips and pulling her even tighter against him. That shameless, sadistic Count—how she resented him now.
Then, heavy footsteps sounded outside. The maid had truly brought the guards.
"Open it! Break it down if you have to!"
Bang! Bang! Thud!
The door shuddered under brute force, and Catherine's sweaty hands—slippery with perspiration—finally lost their grip.
Creak—!
Her fingers were wrenched from the handle as the dressing room door swung wide open. Bright light from the room beyond flooded the dark space.
'It's over...'
Catherine held her breath, squeezing her eyes shut in despair.
In that split second—
Lucian's strong arm hooked around her waist, and with lightning speed, he swept her into the deepest corner of the dressing room.
Whoosh—!
A short incantation spilled from his lips as a pulse of blue mana flashed through the air.
"[Mirror Barrier]."
A high-level defensive spell—one that rendered them invisible from the outside while allowing them to see and hear everything beyond.
Fortunately, the barrier's range perfectly enclosed the cramped dressing room without spilling over.
But Catherine, unaware of the magic, nearly died of fright on the spot.
She wrenched herself from Lucian's grasp, frantically yanking up her panties—which had slid to her ankles—and smoothing her crumpled dress with desperate haste.
Tears streaking her flushed face, she turned toward Isabel at the door and cried out in panic.
"S-Sorry, Isabel! I was just hiding in here with the Count to prank you! He came this morning for a garden stroll, and we ended up playing hide-and-seek! I lost!"
Even to her own ears, the excuse sounded nonsensical and painfully awkward. Catherine wanted to die from sheer humiliation.
But Isabel didn't respond at all.
"Huh? She's not here either? I could've sworn I heard something... And someone was definitely holding the door handle..."
Isabel tilted her head, staring directly at where Catherine and Lucian stood—yet her gaze seemed to pass right through them, as if looking at an empty wall.
"You're dismissed. You may leave now."
She sent the guards away, then plopped onto the chair before Catherine's vanity, leaving the dressing room door wide open. Clearly, she intended to wait for the princess's return.
Catherine was bewildered. She stared wide-eyed at Isabel.
'What? Why is she ignoring me? Did she not hear me? Is she playing some angry prank?'
As she trembled in confusion, Lucian's broad, firm chest pressed against her back.
Gently smoothing her disheveled black hair, he whispered in a low, calm voice by her ear.
"Relax, Your Highness. We're inside a 'Transparent Barrier' right now. To that maid, all she sees is an empty corner of the dressing room. Your voice doesn't carry beyond it either."
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