The woman, of course, never refused out of courtesy.
Her reaction was different from when she saw the lilac. The corners of her lips curled up gently as she put the almond cake into her mouth. While it was understandable, it was rare to see such a sincere smile.
At the end of a long love affair, she forgot who she was, and then she felt the climax and showed it for a while.
âŠWhat was with a single cake? To smile after doing it with him for two hours with just one bite of cake.
The more he watched, the weirder he felt.
Pink lips parted. The red flesh was exposed between the thick flesh, the same color as the labia. An eclair thickly coated with coffee cream slipped into the wet hole. Her lips pursed, and she bit into the burnt-colored pastry, and the milky cream burst out.
The woman stuck out the tip of her tongue and licked the cream off her lips.
She was a vulgar woman who didnât know how to say no and ate even ordinary desserts. When his eyes met the woman who was tucking her wet hair behind her ear, Leon took a deep breath. The scent of soap was strong.
A woman who had the urge to be vulgar with him.
Leon lowered his gaze to his lower body. He was no different from a dog that salivates at the mere sound of a bell.
âIâm going to try it once and put it away. It will be more boring than you think to roll around promiscuously.â
How naive was his past self who said such a thing.
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It was something he was able to say because he didnât know that womanâs addictive taste. Ah, he wanted to taste and taste again and again until he was exhausted from pulling her and kissing her and falling on the bed.
âD*mn itâŠâ
Annoying libido. If it wasnât for this, he would have already found out the location of the base from that woman.
âShe knows the location of the base, right?â
Leon managed to shake off his vulgar thoughts and focus on the question from before.
That woman seemed to know more than he thought. What he caught thinking it was a big fish could be a small trout⊠then interrogation might be a waste of time.
âStill, this makes no sense. Why doesnât she know the core tactics as a Riddle?â
Leon stared at the woman with eyes filled with complex emotions.
âDoes that womanâs older brother know?â
However, it wasnât a question he wanted to solve by prodding Jonathan Riddle Jr. It was enough once it was in his hands.
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Finding the intersection between private desire and public duty was actually not that difficult.
âMore, moreâŠâ
The womanâs voice, which seemed to be cut off, was drowned out by the sound of gasps. It was so thin that it could barely be heard if he put his ear close to her mouth.
The woman grabbed Leonâs shirt and even scratched his back. The shirt, which the maids had neatly ironed without a single wrinkle, was crumpled in the womanâs hand. It was no different from her face at this moment.
âMoreâŠâ
She squeezed and sucked his pillar with her wet, slippery flesh, urging him.
âWhat a b*tch in heat.â
A chuckle and a sneer passed sharply by the womanâs ears. As she let out a painful groan as his hands, with tendons sticking out, she grabbed her soft buttocks with a firm grip. Her sweat-soaked skin clung to his hands.
It was no different from the master, struggling to cling to her body.
As if to patronize her, Leon lifted his waist once. Despite the heavy pain that stamped her cervix up, the woman did not scream once.
No, was âshe couldnât screamâ the better word?
Grace took a deep breath, not missing the moment when the rope loosened and the clogged throat opened. The pain of inhaling a sharp blade stabbed deep into her lungs, but her body couldnât stop gasping for breath.
Leon, who had moderately raised his waist until the sound of metal leaking from her tear-stained lips died down, slowly relaxed his grip on her rear.
âKughâŠâ
The frightened woman scratched his back with her blunt fingertips as the rope hanging from the ceiling tightened again around her neck. She struggled on her slipping legs, even tying them around his waist.
He took one bite of the cute womanâs ear with his front teeth and pulled her brown hair back behind her.
He liked the turquoise eyes that were even more blue with the fear of death.
Did he look like this the moment she called him dirty pig back in Abbington Beach? When that childish face overlapped with the one in front of his eyes, Leon grabbed the woman by the back of her head and pulled her forward.
âTo open your lips frivolously in front of a man. Youâre Blanchardâs prostitute, after all.â
He politely kissed her breathless lips.
Unlike him, who was of noble lineage, the woman who had lived rolling in the mud had no manners. Leon parted his lips and licked the wound with the tip of his tongue, where the taste of blood smeared.
Destined to die if she let go of her hand, the foolish woman still bit him like a cornered rat.
âThe more you bleed, the more excited I am. Iâm sure you know that?â
Unlike him, who was not inspired by any strong stimulation, his heart raced. This woman never gave him a chance to get bored. Seeing as she knew better than himself how to arouse him, she must have searched for something to be spied on inside and out.
What a capable spy she was.
It was a shame that she was an enemy.
âIâll be happy to play with you.â
Leon gave a command, holding the womanâs tousled hair tightly.
âI beg you.â
âMore, up.â
The woman screeched through her lips, glistening with dried saliva.
âI donât think so?â
ââŠHarder.â
âHarder? What do you mean harder?â
As she licked her dry lips, he loosened his grip on her hips. The rope hanging from the ceiling squeezed her neck again.
The two slender legs, which had been swaying limply and powerlessly, suddenly began to wriggle. Her body, unable to overcome its own weight, slid down his thighs as the smooth wool of the officerâs uniform was hastening Graceâs death.
âKuhkâŠâ
Even though she tried to grab his shirt collar, Winston grabbed her wrists together. He glanced down at his crumpled shirt collar and clicked his tongue briefly.
âBeg properly.â
In the end, the only thing she was holding on to was his penis, and when Grace squeezed hard against her belly, a mean smile carved Winstonâs chiseled face.
âKuhk, f*ck, me, harder.â
She begged urgently between the passing breath. Grace wanted to live long enough to beg for the blood-crazed demon to beg for his life.
True to his notoriety as the best torturer in her realm, he tortured her every day with new and more brutal methods. As soon as he entered the torture chamber today, he put a noose on the iron hook hanging from the ceiling, put a wooden chair under it, and ordered her to go up.
If she showed fear, she would be played by the devil.
Grace climbed the gallows without resistance, holding her chin high. The next moment, Winston put the noose around her neck and, with a terrifyingly gentle hand, pulled her head and put it neatly in place.
Then, he asked the obvious question that was always asked in the interrogation. It was a question that he knew there was no way she would answer.
This man just needed an excuse to torture her.
Grace refused to answer, but he didnât kick the chair right away.
Leon Winston wasnât that common sense person. As he put his hand between her legs as she stood naked on the chair, she wanted to slap him on the cheek when he smiled brightly, saying that the tear on her secret area had healed well.
But even as she trembled, she couldnât resist. It wasnât just because of the pride of the Revolutionary Army.
It was because the old chair creaked as if it would break whenever she twisted her body.
Winston removed his hand from her pubic area and immediately took off his officerâs jacket. Slowly undoing his belt buckle, he neatly folded his jacket in half on the table where she had moaned and tied up like an animal countless times.
Soon, Leon Winstonâs favorite instrument of torture was revealed.
âOne of my superiors did it. The tightening is fantastic when strangling. Thatâs why he strangled each prostitute, and now the madams are disgusted and have started not letting anyone go.â
He smiled innocently in front of Grace, who was starting to tremble. Even the way he took out his member, where the veins protruded from between the gaps in the front of his pants, and held it up and caressed it, was still an elegant man.
She was nauseous with the duality.
Those smooth hands that look clean at first glance are stained with the blood of countless people like the dirty monarchy pig who is shiny on the outside.
âDirty pervert, kuhkâŠâ
As she was about to spit, Winston kicked one of the legs of the chair.