Chapter 130 - - 130 - Pleasures Beneath the Table [R18]

Chapter 130: Chapter - 130 - Pleasures Beneath the Table [R18]

"Yeahhh, there is a special announcement which I’ll announce officially later," Prince Rumil said, leaning in closer to both of them, his voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper. "But you guys should know first."

Lucien and Aelene sat silently in their embroidered high-backed chairs, their attention fixed entirely on the young prince.

"Axel, can you sit in front of me?" Prince Rumil asked, motioning toward the empty seat directly facing him across the table.

"As you wish, my Prince Rumil," Lucien replied without a second of hesitation.

Lucien stood up smoothly, his movement fluid and refined, and moved to take the seat directly beside Aelene instead. Prince Rumil stepped back and stood tall before them, puffing his chest out as if preparing to deliver an address that would alter the course of the kingdom.

The moment Lucien settled into the chair beside Aelene, his hand slid effortlessly beneath the long, hanging tablecloth. He placed his palm flat against her upper thigh, his fingers digging in to caress her soft skin away from the prince’s view.

Oh, Prince Rumil... your fiancé’s thighs are getting squeezed by your best friend, and you’re still not done with your grand announcement... I love Lord Lucien’s touch, Aelene thought, her breath catching softly in her throat as a wave of heat flushed across her skin.

Prince Rumil turned away, stepping over to the floor-to-ceiling chamber window. He stared out into the silvery moonlight, completely oblivious to what was transpiring under his own table.

"I’m planning to give up on the throne now," Prince Rumil declared, his eyes fixed on the moon.

Aelene felt a jolt of genuine surprise ripple through her mind. From early childhood, Rumil had been entirely consumed by his obsession with power, rank, and his own vanity. Hearing such words from his mouth seemed almost unbelievable.

She wore long, layered noble robes, but a deep side slit exposed her bare leg beneath the fabric. Lucien didn’t miss the opening. He slid his hand directly beneath the cloth, his warm fingers tracing bare skin up her inner thigh, coming to rest mere inches from the core between her legs. Aelene stopped caring about the prince’s announcement entirely; every sensory impulse in her body focused on Lucien’s masterclass of quiet pleasure. Lucien hooked his fingers gently under the lace of her panties, slipping beneath the fabric to trace slow, deliberate circles against her sensitive core, massaging her while hiding his movements behind the drapes of her gown.

"Wh-why do you want to give up on the throne?" Aelene managed to ask, her voice quivering slightly as she fought to maintain a steady tone.

"I realized over the last few days that this obsession over the throne is something that makes me miserable," Prince Rumil said, his voice dropping into a rare tone of quiet vulnerability. "Even today, I said things to you that I should have never said. I don’t want this life anymore. I realized something... to make my life truly happy, I just need you."

While Rumil poured his heart out to the night sky, Lucien pushed her panties completely aside. His fingers made direct contact with her slick, heated skin. Driven by the overwhelming friction, Aelene couldn’t stop herself from reaching down toward Lucien as well. Beneath the table, his shaft was already fully erect, resting heavily against his trousers, entirely concealed by the dim moonlight and thick mahogany wood. She wrapped her manicured fingers around his length, slowly sliding her hand up and down his iron weight.

Oh, Lord Lucien... it seems like you can’t wait to take my purity away, Aelene thought, a dizzying pleasure threatening to overwhelm her composure. But you have to wait a little... Ahhh, his fingers are touching my most sensitive spots... the chair beneath me is already wet from the juices of my core.

"Tell me, Aelene... will you still want to be with me, even if I give up on the throne and on this prince title?" Prince Rumil asked, turning around with raw emotion swimming in his eyes. "I just want to live a normal life with you."

Prince Rumil began walking slowly back toward the table where Lucien and Aelene sat. Sensing his approach, Lucien and Aelene immediately froze their hidden actions and stood up from their chairs. Due to the heavy darkness of the chamber and the soft glow of moonlight behind him, Rumil couldn’t suspect a single thing. To his eyes, Lucien was simply standing politely near his fiancé. He couldn’t see that beneath the loose folds of her dress, Lucien had slipped his hand around from behind, his fingers pressed firmly against her bare ass, squeezing her soft flesh as the prince addressed them.

"Axel... would you still be my friend if I’m not a prince anymore?" Prince Rumil asked, his voice trembling as emotions threatened to break his aristocratic composure.

"Of course, my Prince," Lucien answered smoothly, his expression a picture of unfaltering loyalty while taking the opportunity to push his hand deeper inside her robes from behind, ruthlessly kneading her exposed buttocks as they stood side by side. "I’ll always be your friend. As long as you live, I’ll be there for you."

Prince Rumil choked back a sob, overwhelmed by the apparent devotion of his closest ally. He stepped directly before Aelene, sinking heavily onto his knees right on the floor before her.

"Lady Aelene... will you marry me, even if I’m not the prince?" Rumil pleaded, looking up at her with big, wide eyes. "We could live the life of a common person... and be content and happy."

Aelene was a cold, pragmatic woman. She was ruthless to her core, a creature who wouldn’t hesitate to kill or sacrifice anyone for real power. She was naturally drawn to true strength, and Lucien held the leash to everything around them. She knew exactly who to choose; even if Lucien hadn’t been in the picture, she would have secretly despised the thought of settling down with a stripped, powerless prince.

As Rumil knelt at her feet awaiting her vow, Lucien’s hand worked ruthlessly behind her while she stood there. He squeezed her bare ass cheek while sliding his long middle finger between her thighs from behind, massaging her drenched core under her robes. The pleasure was so sudden and intense that she could barely stand upright on her feet. Right as she opened her mouth to speak, Lucien buried his finger deep into her wet center with a sharp, firm push.

It was too much. A violent shudder ran down her spine, and her core juices gushed out uncontrollably, dripping down her legs and soaking through her garments until the floor where she was standing was drenched, as if someone had spilled a full glass of water.

Fighting to keep her voice from breaking into a moan while standing right above the kneeling prince, she forced out her answer. "Ye-yes, Prince Rumil... I’ll always be with you."

Suddenly, a loud, urgent knock echoed from the heavy chamber doors. It was another servant.

Glad for an interruption to compose himself, Prince Rumil immediately stood up from his knees, pulled open the door, and stepped out into the hallway to speak with the guardsman standing outside.

"M-My lord! There is some bad news!" the soldier gasped out, his face pale with sheer terror.

"What happened?" Prince Rumil demanded, his eyes narrowing into an intense, menacing stare.

"Your treasury... it’s completely gone!" the soldier blurted, trembling under the prince’s glare. "There is nothing left! Only a single coin remains in the entire vault! All the soldiers and beasts guarding the perimeter... they’re dead!"

The moment the words registered, Prince Rumil lost all control. He swung his hand with explosive force, slapping the soldier squarely across the face. The guard was launched through the air, smashing violently into the stone wall of the corridor before slumping down, bleeding heavily from his head.

Chest heaving, Rumil tried desperately to calm himself down. He reminded himself that he had just decided to leave this life behind—that he wanted to live a simple, quiet life with Aelene. Yet a fierce, chaotic war raged inside his mind, tearing him apart between his newly sworn resolve and his deep-seated royal pride.

Before he could process the loss of his fortune, another soldier came sprinting down the hallway, gasping for breath as if running for his life.

"What happened?" Prince Rumil asked, forcing his tone to sound a fraction calmer despite the rage boiling beneath his skin. "Don’t tell me you have bad news for me as well."

"Prince Rumil... we have found the man-eater!" the soldier panted.

"What?!" Rumil snapped, his eyes flashing. "Who is he, and where is he now?"

"He is the same person who was with your hunting party that day!" the soldier reported rapidly. "When you, Lord Axel, and the others went into the woods!"

"Andrin...?" Prince Rumil whispered, his voice dropping into pure, stunned disbelief.

He was the man-eater the entire time... and I had no idea?

An explosive mixture of violent emotions surged through Rumil’s chest. The man-eater was the sole reason Prince Rumil had become a laughingstock in his own kingdom, his reputation dragged through the dirt. A dark, fiery greed flared up within his soul, instantly overwhelming his fragile desire for a quiet life. If he caught the monster himself, his stained reputation would be instantly restored. He wouldn’t just be praised—he could reclaim his standing, reclaim his treasure, and perhaps even ascend as the supreme ruler of Azurefall, just as he had always dreamed.

A fierce, agonizing conflict raged in his heart. He had just promised Aelene a simple life of poverty and peace, but the burning hunger for power and glory was far too strong to suppress.

Aelene would be happy if I became the ruler of Azurefall and made her my queen... maybe... I should go and kill that fucker who stole my treasury myself! If I catch him, I can get back my wealth, regain my honor, and make the entire kingdom bow before me again! But... what if Aelene doesn’t like it? What if she genuinely just wants a simple life? What should I choose?

Rumil paused, deciding that discussing it with his trusted friend and his loving fiancé would be the best course of action before he made a final move. All his life, he had made reckless decisions without asking anyone, but today, he wanted their counsel.

"My lord!" the soldier pressed frantically, interrupting his thoughts. "Lady Aelvera is pursuing the man-eater right now! If you move immediately, you can catch up to them and kill him! Lady Aelvera might not be strong enough to finish him alone... we don’t have much time!"

Oh no... I’m running out of time! I need to make a decision faster! Rumil thought, panic setting in. I should take Axel with me and inform Lady Aelene! I’ll discuss our future properly after the beast is dead... I can only hope she will be supportive of my new choice!

Turning back toward his private quarters, Prince Rumil approached the wooden doors to bring Axel and Aelene into the hallway. But as his hand reached for the handle, wet, rhythmic squelching sounds echoed through the heavy wood—a slick, heavy pounding of flesh driving into flesh, accompanied by breathless, needy whimpers.

Rumil’s hand froze over the latch. He slowly pushed the door open to call for Axel, but the sight that met his eyes shattered his world in an instant.

Aelene and Axel were on his bed. Both of them were completely naked, tangled together amidst the silk sheets.

He had been outside for barely five minutes, yet in that fraction of time, Lucien had bent Aelene over the edge of the mattress like a dog. Her pale skin glistened with sweat under the dim light, her arching back trembling with every ruthless plunge. Aelene’s face was flushed with unbridled ecstasy, her eyes glazed over with pure, unadulterated lust, completely blind to the door slipping open in front of her. Lucien gripped her hips with iron hands, his knuckles turning white as he drove his massive, heavy shaft relentlessly into her wet, swollen depths without a second of hesitation or pause. Every strike hit deep, sending ripples across her bare skin.

"Ahhh! Spread my core! Spread it... make it completely useless for Prince Rumil!" Aelene gasped out, her voice dripping with filthy pleasure, her head thrown back as she surrendered entirely to her master.

Lucien raised his hand and brought it down hard, delivering a sharp, echoing slap directly across her bare, reddened buttocks. The impact resounded through the quiet room, causing her inner walls to instantly clamp down tight around his length.

"You like slaps?" Lucien growled softly, his tone heavy with dominance.

"Yesssss! Ahhhh! You own it... my everything is yours, my lord!" Aelene squealed, her firm breasts swinging wildly back and forth with every brutal, rapid thrust. Lucien reached around her slender waist, his fingers digging into her soft chest, roughly squeezing her breasts as if trying to wring every drop of sensation from her writhing body.

"Take my essence," Lucien commanded, his rhythm accelerating into a furious, unrelenting assault.

"Ahhhgggh! Fill me, my lord! Fill me! I’m having a breakthrough!" Aelene cried out, her entire body shaking violently as a massive surge of refined cultivation energy erupted within her core, locking her in the grips of an overwhelming climax.

Standing frozen at the doorway, Prince Rumil stared at the scene, his jaw slightly open, his mind grinding to a complete halt.

In that single, agonizing second, a cold, sickening clarity washed over him. He watched the woman who had just sworn to live a simple life with him moan beneath his most trusted ally. He saw the sheer disgust and contempt in her abandon; he saw how completely she belonged to Axel, and how thoroughly he himself had been played for an utter fool. Every romantic declaration he had just uttered out loud felt like a hot blade twisting in his gut. The realization hit him with absolute, brutal certainty: he had lost Aelene a long time ago. She had never been his.

There was no warmth left in his heart. There were no choices left to balance. The pathetic illusion of a quiet life, of love, of simple contentment—it was all destroyed in the span of a single breath. The foolish, sentimental prince who had kneeled on the floor moments ago died right then and there.

There was only the throne. Only power mattered.

He didn’t scream. He didn’t charge into the room to draw his sword. He didn’t make a sound to stop them or grant them the satisfaction of his outrage.

Slowly, silently, Prince Rumil pulled the heavy wooden door shut, resting his palm against the grain for a brief second before sliding the iron lock into place from the outside.

No tears fell from his eyes. No sorrow softened his features. His face went entirely dead, hollow, and eerily calm, his eyes turning to cold ice. The fragile dream was gone, replaced by a dark, ruthless ambition taking root deep within his soul. Holding onto the silent, burning promise that he would return one day to claim his kingdom and punish them both for their betrayal, Prince Rumil turned his back on the locked chamber and walked away into the dark corridor, heading toward the man-eater alone.