The Villainess was Loved

Chapter Fifty-One: The Night The Raven Lost Its Wings V

“There is no need, your highness.”

I repeated to his insistence, then to make my point concrete, I pulled the remaining sock, then threw it on the ottoman.

“I am already done, see?”

I wiggled my toes in a show of accomplishment, shrugged, then tried to stand, but he pushed me back on the couch.

“Whoa-,”

“I asked you to wait. I said that I would take the garment off from you.”

He insisted as he towered over me, an act that forced me to lean back to meet the fulness of his golden gaze.

“And yet I have conducted the task with ease. Your highness, there is, was, no need for your second take. You are correct; it would be indecorous for a nobleman thrice my worth in status to kneel before me. I quite understand that. I am not in the least disappointed; in fact, I merely feel embarrassed for having brought it up, so let us move on.”

“Okay?”

I added when he said nothing to what had to be one of my lengthiest rambling sessions.

“Kneeling holds diplomatic connotations on my end. I-,”

“Your highness, please. Let us move on. Frankly speaking, you are ruining the mood.”

I tried to stand once more to invite the feeling of ‘moving on’, but the first prince placed his leg between mine blocking my path.

“I was the one meant to take them off; why did you deny me of that task?”

I was about to utter my, at this point, catchphrase, ‘is that a question?’

But he replied on my behalf.

“You know what, don’t answer that! Instead, here’s what we are going to do….”

He left the sentence hanging, stalked to the ottoman, grabbed the socks, then threw them to me.

“Put them back on.”

“You have got to be joking?”

“Unfortunately, Countess, my sense of humour is not that grand.”

“Are you nuts? No way!! I mean, why? Why is this so important to you?”

“Is that a question?”

He repeated my words back to me.

‘This is growing annoying.’

“I have already taken them off, so let. Us. Move. On!”

I said with triumphant finality.

“Put. The. Damn. Socks. On!”

‘What the hell? How mismatched could we be to stop steamy s*x in its tracks in favour of an argument over socks??’

Yet still, no matter how mundane the conversation grew, none of us budged in our stance.

“No! I will not!”

“Countess.”

“I. will. Not!”

I threw the pair of fluffy socks at his face, then gasped at my intentional actions.

“Gods! I didn’t mean…Pfft!.”

Unexpected laughter escaped from my lips before my poorly constructed apology grew voiced.

‘I hit the smiling demon with my socks!’

Before more tears of joy could escape my eyes, it was only a matter of time; my laughter refused to die down, the space beside me sunk.

His highness had taken a seat beside me.

He slid his hand between my thighs, lifted my left leg and placed it to his thigh.

He did not laugh with me or scold me; he was merely hell-bent on getting the socks back on my feet.

“Oh, come on, that was a little funny?”

I said as the residual giggles died off.

“Are you on Étienne’s side on the throne campaign?”

‘Hah? Talk about a mood killer!’

“The throne race? No. I’m still not sure who I support. Though I suppose I should say who Clay supports at this point.”

He placed the leg aside, still on his thigh, creating space for the other foot to fit.

“But you have my word; it will never be Étienne.”

His gaze, for the first time since he sat down, met mine.

“Why?”

“That’s your second question.”

I informed him.

“I know.”

His fingernails ran through the sole of my feet, and rather than feel ticklish; pleasure rubbed through my core.

“Because I despise him.”

“Why do you hate him?”

“Pass.”

“Is it because he rejected you?”

“Rejected me? What do you mean, ‘rejected me’?”

“Rumour spread that he rejected you. Of course, I know the truth, but I was poking ar-,”

I pressed my toes to his enormous erection.

‘F*ck… it’s huge!’

The action was intended to shut him up, but instead, deliciously addictive moans surfaced each time I rubbed him, making me forget my initial goal.

“If you do not support him, why did you go to his engagement ball aside from being offered an invite?”

“Ooh…someone’s wisened up in their question-asking techniques. But the initial question has your shirt written all over it, the latter your pants. Are you selling your underwear for this?”

“I…”

He groaned in response to my increased momentum.

“I have a belt.”

“A belt? That’s practically cheating.”

The first prince, though it looked as if it wasn’t on purpose, began rubbing against my socked foot while his teeth peeled the socks off the foot he had just dressed.

‘What is the point of all this?’

Was what I was supposed to ask, but the second his tongue caressed the sensitive bottom, as he trailed up to my toe, I shuddered into his absurdity.

“I… I don’t know. Closure, maybe?”

“Closure? Is closure what had you running from the ball only to collapse with shock?

‘Shock?’

Is that the explanation he was granted?

Of course, there would be no other deduction, especially as they perhaps found my blood untainted.

“Closure is a broad term.”

I shrugged.

“It will narrow down once you explain.”

“The explanation will cost your underwear.”

“I wear garters with my socks; negotiate with me.”

He bit my heel, and rather than pull away; I embraced the sting.

“I thought that if I saw the fourth prince happy, perhaps I could rest. Perhaps he would be too happy to involve himself with me anymore.”

“Were you correct?”

“You have nothing more to give me?”

“I told you, I wear garters with my socks.”

“Then f*ck me with them on. Pass.”

He stopped rubbing himself against me.

“Good enough.”

As though he could no longer contain himself, he gripped my thighs then dragged me to him that my hair would swoop down my back and my pelvis would align with his hardness.

In the room with the dimmed lights, our focus was solely on each other. We were so close to each other’s orbits that each exhaled breath was inhaled by the other. At this moment, what we longed for from each other remained the focus, no illusions of a future, just a quick night that…that would help us forget the burdens we carry.

My lips found his quickly, and his arms pressed my back firmly on his body.

His tongue caressed my own, and, in a moment of desperation, I completely forgot my surroundings until…

Riiip!

I broke the kiss effortlessly, just in time to watch him tear off the green nightdress I had on.

“Tha-,”

He did not permit me to speak; his mouth captured my n****e so readily that I had little choice but to bury my hands in the deep brown mess of his hair.

His tongue caressed roughly the sensitised bud while his free hand sneaked to tease its abandoned partner.

“Beautiful…beautiful dark amarena cherry coloured buds.”

‘Oh, for f**k’s sake!’

His hand-lasted perhaps a few minutes, teasing my n****e when his warm and moist tongue abandoned its captive to sample the other.

But all it did was leave the once warm bud under the mercy of the contrasting cold.

My hands sunk from his hair to his back but his shirt…

“It’s in the way!”

I whispered to his ear, but all he did was bite my n****e as if to say he did not care.

His large hand travelled from my breast, lower past my abdomen, then finally between my legs. He sunk his entire palm under the panties that were at this time, by no fault of my own, entirely soaked through.

“Gods…but look at how your body craves me.”

‘The ego on this man!!’

“Stop talk- ah!”

His finger slid inside me, leaving my c******s under the mercy of his large rough palms that in no way failed at their task.

“Wait I-,”

I tried to shift my position to at least have access to him. That way, I am not the only one under the whims of his teasings, but there was no room for budging.

My earlier unresolved o****m flooded through, forcing a cry I had no idea I had the capacity to voice through me as I squeezed the two fingers he thrust inside me.

The hands buried deep in his hair felt numb. My knees, though they were supported, felt pronouncedly limp.

“This is…”

He frowned.

‘Great, will he complement himself again or will he-,’

“You told me you have slept with others, but I cannot fit inside you.”

“What?”

“Countess, you are too tight. If I thrust inside you without further preparation, I will tear something; you will bleed.”

“But…”

‘But Wreigner, my first, isn’t small.’

 Was what I wanted to say, but when he took my hand and pressed it against his erection, my words escaped me.

Truly, feet are not accurate measuring devices.

“Will you be okay?”

‘Oh f**k…fuck no!’

‘Say it with me, N to the No! Again, N to the-’

“Yes.”

Despite the song, my brain was quite actively singing. It was now or never.

There will never be another opportunity to do this.

‘That’s…that’s not how the song goes.’