Are Beast Nobles Supposed to Be This Lewd?

Chapter 109: The Strategist’s Trap

"Did you just call me a dessert?"

Mirabelle’s face looked adorably offended, yet laughter danced unmistakably in her voice—the sound he loved so much.

Lucien slipped between his chair and her slightly parted legs. He stood so close that she could feel the warmth radiating from his body.

The scent of cedarwood and fresh leafs surrounded her the instant he stepped closer.

Without thinking, she inhaled.

So close. Far too nice.

A breeze loosened one of her curls.

Almost automatically, he reached for it and gently tucked it back behind her ear. His fingers were warm against her skin.

A pleasant shiver chased the touch all the way down her neck. Her pulse fluttered beneath his fingertips.

His gaze drifted to her eyes.

Then to her lips. They looked impossibly soft.

"I think I need to try harder."

Her own gaze traveled from his eyes down to his mouth.

"Yes," she whispered. "You still don’t look nearly desperate enough."

The next moment, his lips were on hers.

The first contact stole the air from her lungs.

His lips were warm. And softer than she had expected.

For a heartbeat, the rest of the world simply ceased to exist.

The sudden movement tensed the muscles in his legs, and with a loud clatter, the chair toppled backward.

The rabbit flinched in surprise before immediately disappearing.

Mirabelle’s lips tingled.

Lucien’s kiss wasn’t gentle or restrained.

It was hungry.

And yet... There was something sophisticated about it.

She already knew he was incredibly skilled with his lips and tongue. Even if she preferred not to think too hard about how he had acquired that experience...

She enjoyed every second of it.

The pressure was perfect.

His movements confident.

The anticipation unbearable.

She could hear his breathing.

Slow.

Controlled.

Only the increasingly uneven rhythm gave away how much restraint he was using.

The tingling spread deeper. It ignited her heart, kindled a fire in her stomach, and sent sparks racing through her core.

Lucien’s hands settled on her thighs. Through the smooth fabric of her dress, his touch felt silky and cool.

Her muscles tightened instinctively.

Her innere parts mirrored the reaction.

Goosebumps blossomed across her skin.

Mirabelle drew in a surprised breath, and Lucien immediately deepened the kiss.

Their tongues met in playful battle.

Every quiet breath that escaped him brushed warmly across her cheek before disappearing between them again.

Each touch sent another pleasant shiver dancing through her body.

Lucien’s hands glided gently over the fabric, slowly exploring the curves of her body.

With a firm squeeze of her butt, he pulled her closer to the edge of the table. Her dress gathered slightly around her hips as the hem rode upward.

Instinctively, Mirabelle wrapped her arms around the Beast male’s neck to steady herself. The muscles beneath her fingers shifted as he moved.

His satisfied smile brushed against her lips.

The kiss lastet for an eternity.Neither of them noticed how their breathing had slowly fallen into the same rhythm.

Then the lynx female finally broke the kiss and tipped her head back, taking a deep, desperate breath. Her hands slipped behind her once more to support herself.

A lingering sweetness remained in Lucien’s mouth. He had always believed he wasn’t particularly fond of honey.

Now he wanted to drown in it.

He could still taste peaches from the tart she’d eaten only moments earlier.

Somehow...

It suited her just as perfectly as honey did.

Her scent had long since overwhelmed the fragrance of every rose surrounding them. It wrapped around his senses like a temptress.

His entire world had narrowed until only she remained. Everything else became little more than distant background noise.

As soon as Mirabelle finally felt she could breathe again, she tried to sit upright. His hand stopped her, resting lightly against the spot between her breasts.

His other hand gathered a little more of her skirt as it traveled lower.

An excited light appeared in Mirabelle’s eyes. She could feel the quick beat of her own pulse in her throat.

Her head fell back once more as she lowered herself onto her elbows.

In just another moment...

He would discover...

Lucien’s free hand moved to join the other.

Then—

He froze.

His pupils widened.

Only now did he realize...

She had been leading him exactly where she wanted him all along.

She wasn’t wearing anything beneath the dress. His fingertips brushed her heated skin. His skin getting covered in wetness. The scent of desire lured him closer.

His trousers suddenly felt far too tight.

Yet this wasn’t his turn.

She had planned his every step.

Every reaction.

Every move.

Just so they would end up here.

A strategist like her would become an extraordinary politician...

And an even greater regent.

Once again, he silently thanked the Beast Goddess for bringing her into his life.

"If I’ve already been invited..."

His voice came out rough. He swallowed once.

Even that small movement suddenly felt far louder than it should have.

Lucien’s fingers played across her like a virtuoso across the strings of his instrument. Every touch drew another beautiful sound from her, each one sweeter than the last.

Mirabelle moaned softly.

Barely louder than a breath.

Yet Lucien reacted to it immediately. He knew exactly what he was doing.

His eyes tried to capture every tiny change in her expression.

But then he couldn’t hold himself back any longer.

His hands abandoned their sweet torment and slid down to Mirabelle’s ankles. Gently, he bent her knees and placed the tips of her feet against the edge of the table.

Her dress slipped down completely, pooling around her hips.

The gentle afternoon breeze brushed against her exposed skin, cooling the heat that had built there.

A shiver ran through her body.

Unable to help herself, she let herself fall fully back onto the tabletop. Her curls spilled out between the expensive porcelain and the delicate desserts.

Slowly, the fox Beastman lowered himself to his knees.

Lucien’s hands settled once more against the soft skin of her inner thighs, easing them a little farther apart. His gaze burned on her core.

"Thanks for the meal."

With that, he kissed her lower lips.

Her hands found their way into his copper-colored curls, uncertain whether she wanted to push him away... or pull him even closer.

With every flick of his tongue, the tension inside her body grew.

Every slow circle he traced sent trembling waves cascading through her.

His pointed fox ears twitched with amusement as his tongue moved over her again and again.

Fine porcelain and practiced elegance surrounded her, a fragile illusion of order that shattered with every involuntary sound she could no longer suppress.

The scent of roses blurred into something distant, drowned out by the overwhelming heat spreading through Mirabelle’s body, until all she could feel was the trembling pull inside her.

Desperately, she grasped his copper-colored hair — whether to stop him or to hold on, she no longer knew. Another shudder ran through her, and a purr mingled with the birds’ song.

While he savored his dessert with pleasure, Mirabelle wondered how it had ever come to this.

Of course, she knew exactly how she’d ended up lying on the table.

Why her wild curls were spread across delicate plates and among the tempting desserts. Why her dress had been pushed up to her hips, her legs bent and braced against the edge of the table, trembling. Ans why elegant male hands kept pressing them farther apart every time she desperately tried to close them.

Yet in that very moment, she found herself wondering all over again how she — the woman who, only days ago, had been preparing for the biggest presentation of her career, one that was supposed to secure a million-dollar contract...

...how she, who had always despised social inequality while being trapped in the endless grind herself...

...how she, who had never had time for dating despite wanting nothing more than a partner...

...had ended up in this world instead.

A world where she was about to become a Duchess, had three Beast male partners, and had experienced more — or at least better — sex in the past few days than she had in the previous three years.

All of this still felt like a dream.

A ridiculous fever dream.

A very, very wet dream.

But a dream nonetheless.

Yet just as her mind threatened to pull her back into that impossible spiral of analysis, Lucien sealed his lips firmly around her pearl and began to suck.

White flashes burst behind her eyelids. Her shoulders pressed down as her back arched upward, lifting from the tabletop.

Every slow pull sent another shiver through her, unraveling her thoughts until nothing remained except the intoxicating sensation consuming her.

"Oh God," she gasped.

Then his tongue flicked against the tiny bud, and a cry tore from her throat.

The sound climbed higher and higher through the roses until it escaped their secluded sanctuary, letting every Beastman in the courtyard know exactly what they were doing.