Arnald’s hands lifted her slender legs, leaving her to lie dreamily at his mercy.
“Good girl. Now lick.”
He held his long fingers out before Byletta’s mouth.
As if in a trance, she did what he asked and began to lap at his fingers. Even that set her heart to racing until, suddenly, Arnald pulled his hand away.
“Mn…”
“You don’t have to sound so needy. I’ll sate that hunger of yours right now… See? Isn’t that better?”
His fingers made sparks fly inside her, so intense that she clung to Arnald’s body.
“Aaah, mmm… What are yo—?!”
“You don’t have to play innocent with me. I’ll make sure you get exactly what you want. You like that, don’t you?”
The heat his fingers were stirring up inside of her continued to build, sending indescribable pleasure coursing through Byletta’s veins. Her expression crumpled and her voice cracked as she came undone.
“Aaah…”
“This body of yours is so erotic it’s obscene. Don’t look at me like you need more. Do you want it deeper?”
As Arnald toyed with her, Byletta could no longer suppress her moans. The incessant cascade of sweet noises brought a smile to Arnald’s lips.
“Moan as loud as you want—I don’t mind. I want to learn you, my wife.”
And thus slowly unfolded a wedding night, come eight years too late.
Arnald left Byletta asleep in bed, exhausted from the night before, and put on a robe while he considered whether or not to take a bath.
The dawn light was dim, but he could still make out where things were. He went about his morning routine as usual, as if nothing had happened—as he always did after a liaison.
Still, perhaps he had gone too far the previous night. Arnald hadn’t felt such an intense anger-like passion in a long time. And never had he slept with a woman while possessed with such rage. He had ways to relieve himself even without a partner, and he had done so without difficulty even during the war. He could perhaps be called a puritan that way.
Arnald had been unsure that he would be capable of bullying a woman he didn’t know by getting her into bed, but he’d been caught off guard by how easy it’d been. The girl had wavered a bit and offered a little resistance, but in the end, she’d certainly seemed to enjoy herself. He hadn’t actually intended to allow her to have such a good time, and he’d found himself provoked to the point of being angry. As a result, he’d been quite rough with her.
His marriage had been the result of an order from the higher-ups. Arnald hadn’t been interested in finding a wife at all, so he’d given them an absurd wish list. He’d laughed about it at first, but everything had started when he carelessly accepted an offer to a partner.
Arnald had wrongly believed that going to war would make life more interesting. Yet, as the war drew to a close, he’d begun to feel empty. It had at least provided him with some stimulation, it seemed, but that was all. There probably wouldn’t be another major conflict for a while. Perhaps some internal strife or a skirmish or two? Even those would likely be quite infrequent.
But just as Arnald had begun to lose heart, a letter from his stranger of a wife had reached him on the battlefield.
Vaguely remembering that he did indeed have a spouse, he’d gotten his hopes up, then immediately kicked himself for it. However, the contents of the letter had been decidedly provocative, and the woman who’d written it certainly did appear courageous. It was only then that the wife whom he’d almost forgotten even existed, and whose face he’d never even seen, had begun to pique his interest.
After receiving his orders, he had returned to the capital just over a week ago. Opting not to go back to his family home, he had quietly returned instead to a room assigned by the army and begun to gather information on his wife, only to find that she was even more diabolical than he’d imagined.
Rumor had it that she had a sordid relationship with her uncle, a famous business magnate; that she’d gotten into a bloody altercation with a classmate at Stacia Academy, the best school in the city; and that she’d even cozied up with his father, Wynald, after she was married. The count had even taken her to the Swangan estate three separate times, where many had become fond of her. While Arnald didn’t think all of these people were sharing her bed, he still felt a murderous rage toward the man who’d recommended such a woman to him. The feeling was so intense that it made him dizzy. Yes, the girl was fearless and courageous. Yes, she ticked every one of his boxes. But she was still truly awful.
So why was a woman of her sort asking him for a divorce? Had she found a more convenient potential husband, or did she simply want to cut ties with his father? Whatever the case, an intense feeling had begun to bubble up inside Arnald—toward his wife, who was intending to leave him through no fault of his own.
He was almost astonished that she could make him seethe so.
“I may have ended up with an impressive bride, but perhaps I’m just too spiteful to let her have her way so easily…”
He would divorce her. But he’d give her a taste of her own medicine first.
Arnald had come up with countless strategies in his head, eventually arriving at a certain “wager.”
After gathering information and making his preparations, he’d sneaked into his wife’s bedroom at night while she slept.
As he’d approached with silent footsteps, the form of a soundly sleeping girl had become visible under the moonlight.
Well, she’s clearly not sleeping with my father.
Under such low light, it had been impossible to make out details like the color of the woman’s hair, but what he’d seen had been enough for Arnald to conclude that she was beautiful. She had curled lashes so long they cast shadows on her face, an upturned nose, and a pair of sensual, pillowy lips. Below, her gentle curves had been concealed by the bedspread. Still, the sight had been more than enough to thoroughly seduce a man.
As Arnald had stared, taking in the fact that this woman was his wife, her eyelids had suddenly begun to flutter open.