When That Door Opens - Chapter 72
She rubbed her thickly forested lower region against his lower abdomen.
“Your hip movements are an art. I wonder who taught you that?”
A satisfied laugh echoed in her ear. He grabbed her chin and turned her face. His gaze was filled with desire.
“Tell me, who taught you that?”
“Verne, it was you. I learned from you.”
She closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead against his shoulder.
“Since you got the answer right, you deserve a reward.”
At the moment the carriage hit a bump, Verne thrust deeply into her. With their tongues deeply entwined, Julieta couldn’t even scream. He was a genius at thrusting both his tongue and his member.
Her walls clenched around his pulsating member, trying to memorize its shape.
“Julieta. Ah, Julieta.”
He was nearing his climax. So was Julieta. Verne lifted her by her but**cks. As his member slid out, Julieta clung to his shoulders, trembling.
Verne’s eyes gleamed with greed as he looked down at his glistening member. Her juices dripped down the tip of his c*ck. It was a lewd and beautiful sight, one that he could never capture in words. The ecstasy of the moment hit him hard.
Verne squeezed her but**cks and then released them. Like a harpoon spearing a fish, his member pierced Julieta.
“Ah!”
Julieta cried out as his member reached the deepest part of her. Verne grabbed her hips and thrust. It was the final journey toward their climax.
“Mmff.”
“Ah!”
Verne bit her shoulder hard. Julieta’s nails dug into his shoulder. They clung to each other, trembling as if they were one.
His climax was long and intense, once again.
* * *
It was only when it was time to get out of the carriage that Julieta regained her senses and noticed her torn dress. His seed was dripping between her legs. She couldn’t even wear her coat, which was the only piece of clothing that was somewhat intact, because it was now used to clean up.
“How am I supposed to go out like this?”
“Just go out.”
“People will see!”
Verne lived in a grand and beautiful mansion, fitting for a great writer, one that could easily be mistaken for the ancestral home of a duke. Naturally, there were many staff members both inside and outside the house. No matter where she went or what time it was, there were always people nearby. The last time she stayed with him, Verne had often pounced on her regardless of whether there were people around, which was quite mortifying for Julieta.
“It’s an excellent idea. Why don’t you try enjoying it?”
“What?”
“Having s*x in front of others.”
“Th-that’s impossible!”
Despite writing e****c novels, Julieta was oddly conservative. Verne chuckled.
“Really? Is it impossible? This place is twitching with anticipation.”
He thrust his finger into her entrance, which was already soaked with his seed. The roughly used and slightly swollen entrance squeezed his finger tightly. The milky fluid trickled down his fingers.
Verne clicked his tongue. He loved and hated how it always tightened back up, no matter how much he stretched it.
“I can’t go out without clothes.”
Julieta forcibly pulled his finger out. He had been lazily scraping her insides, hinting at a second round.
“Wait here.”
Eventually, Verne adjusted his pants and stepped out of the carriage, his muscular torso on full display. Despite his earlier teasing, he had once again acquiesced to Julieta’s request.
Though he often pretended he wouldn’t, Verne always ended up doing what she asked. A satisfied smile spread across Julieta’s face.
In the now empty carriage, Julieta curled up.
Going to the pub, Verne showing up, and having s*x—it all felt dreamlike and blurry. The only vivid memory was the sensation of him penetrating her.
As she recalled that sensation, her entrance shamelessly started leaking more fluid. The mixture of s*m*n and her own juices soaked the seat beneath her.
At the same time, a strong desire to write surged within her.
Why wasn’t Verne coming back? Julieta rubbed her thighs together as she waited for him.
Quickly, she wanted him to come back quickly so she could grasp her pen.
* * *
“Excellent.”
Even the new novel she had written in just two days received Verne’s high praise. Though his words were few, they were filled with sincerity.
Verne placed a breakfast that was easy on the stomach in front of Julieta. A light vegetable soup, warm bread, and tea to aid digestion.
“Thank you, Verne.”
“Just words?”
Verne gave her a suggestive look. After their intense session in the carriage, Verne’s neglected member seemed to demand attention, rising prominently. The towel that had been precariously draped over his waist slipped to the floor.
