I'm in Love with the Villainess!-Chapter 114: Teased Without Release

*** Observer’s Deck

"We’ve lost both of their signatures."

An observer rushed back to the deck carrying an injured professor, quickly laying him on a stretcher and ordering the others to look after him.

"You don’t need to tell me that. I can see it myself..."

The lead observer stared into the distance at the marker, immediately recognizing how obviously fake it was. Even so, it didn’t stop a few overachievers from sprinting or teleporting toward it and attacking the unlucky bastard who had been marked.

"What’s going on? Why are you all marking the wrong area!?"

He turned to the observers in charge of the marker, but all he saw were dozens of them staring back with dizzy, glazed eyes.

"I-I can’t focus, sir... it’s like someone’s casting illusion magic on us if we try to—AGH!"

The main observer raised a brow.

’The two are clearly dark-attuned users, but even I have never heard of long-distance reactive illusion magic like this before...’

The main observer grinned. "And here I thought this was just going to be another generic Eryndor examination..."

***

"...So this is what it feels like," Evelina whispered, almost to herself.

Her weight shifted over me.

Not a careful adjustment. Not a cautious test.

She lowered herself.

Slowly. Purposely.

Her thighs slid along the sides of my hips, squeezing in as she settled her full weight down on my lap. Her knees dug into the mattress, hemming me in, locking me under her. Her skirt rode higher and higher with every inch, fabric dragging over my legs until there was barely anything between us at all.

Warm.

Soft.

Pressed right against me.

Dangerously close didn’t even begin to cover it.

My brain just... shut off.

Before, whenever she got this close, there was always something holding her back. A pause, a flutter of hesitation, some invisible restraint she refused to push past.

Now?

Nothing.

She leaned forward, spine curving like a predator about to pounce, until her hands planted firmly on either side of my head, sinking into the mattress.

Caging me.

There was nowhere to run. Nowhere to look.

Just up.

At her.

At the way her skirt bunched around her hips. At the faint glow in her eyes. At the faint, satisfied curve in her lips like she’d been waiting a very, very long time for this.

"...You don’t mind, do you?" she said softly.

"Am I the type to refuse you?" I replied, a little hoarse.

She only giggled at my reply.

Her hair spilled over her shoulders and down around us, a silk curtain that brushed across my chest and jaw, shutting the rest of the world out. The faint scent of her, sweet, warm, dark, flooded my lungs with every breath.

Not perfume. Not soap.

Just her.

Succubus.

Alive.

Pressed against me.

My pulse stuttered hard enough that I could hear it.

She noticed immediately.

Of course she did.

Her tail lifted and circled down, the smooth, warm length of it sliding along my leg until it found my thigh.

Not a passing tap. Not a teasing brush.

It wrapped around me.

Slow. Tightening.

Like it belonged there. Like I belonged there.

"...You’re really sensitive today," she murmured, watching my face closely.

"Whose fault is that...?" I managed.

She smiled. Didn’t bother answering.

Instead... she rolled her hips, just a fraction of an inch.

Not enough to be obvious. Just enough that I felt her settle more fully on top of me, the soft weight of her thighs bracketing me, the warm press of her body adjusting until every line of her seemed to mold perfectly against mine.

Heat shot straight through me.

She felt it.

Her eyes brightened faintly, lips curving.

She leaned down.

Not kissing. Not quite.

Her face hovered over mine, so close that her breath mixed with mine, so close that if either of us moved even a little, our lips would touch.

Every time my body betrayed me and I tried to close that last inch—

She pulled back.

Barely.

Just enough to deny it.

"Patience," she breathed, words ghosting over my mouth.

Warm air spilled across my lips, sending a shiver all the way down my spine.

I swallowed hard.

I couldn’t even try brute-forcing my way out of this situation, even if I was significantly stronger than her; the fact that I was already wrapped in her magic meant I couldn’t retaliate.

My body was forced to obey her.

And... maybe that was better?

I couldn’t really worry if I physically can’t change anything.

A perfect excuse to just ignore the rational part of my mind.

"...You’re evil... I like it."

My eyes flickered, the hearts in my eyes becoming more intense

"Wrong," she corrected gently.

Her hips shifted again—

A subtle grind. A slow drag of warmth over the front of me that made my entire body jolt.

My brain went blank.

"I’m worried."

"That’s not how worried people act—"

Her thigh slid in tighter against my side, muscles flexing as she pressed down deliberately, pinning me more firmly beneath her.

Claiming.

"You scared me," she said quietly, the playfulness fading for a heartbeat.

Then—

Her hands started to move.

Fingers leaving the mattress, they traced down from either side of my head to my shoulders, curling over muscle and bone, testing the shape of me.

Slow, unhurried, and terrifyingly deliberate.

She might not be an actual nurse, but the way she moved over my body, knowing exactly where to touch to give me pleasure, felt almost nurse-like.

They glided across my chest, the light pressure of her palms dragging heat wherever they passed.

Not grabbing. Not squeezing.

Just mapping me.

Learning me.

Every place her fingers skimmed tingled as if she left sparks behind, a soft static that sank beneath my skin.

Succubus magic seeped in with every pass.

Like it was melting my skin, penetrating through its sheer durability.

"You were getting blown apart out there," she murmured, fingers following the line of my ribs, then tracing lower. "Spells everywhere. Blood everywhere."

Her nails grazed down my side in a thin, careful drag.

I sucked in a sharp breath.

"And all I could think was..."

She dipped closer, her lips brushing the edge of my ear as she spoke.

"...what if someone else touched you first? What if some whore tried saving you first?"

My heart skipped, then slammed hard against my ribs.

That wasn’t simple jealousy.

It was possession, and I know full well what that looked like.

Her tail tightened around my thigh, squeezing just enough to remind me it was there.

"Unacceptable," she muttered.

"...Evelina."

"Hm?"

"You’re crushing me." I laughed weakly.

"Good."

She let more of her weight sink down.

Her chest pressed fully against mine now, soft and warm and there with every breath she took. There was no space left between us, no room for air, no distance I could pretend existed.

Heat swallowed everything.

My arms were trapped between our bodies, pinned helplessly in place. I could feel every slight motion she made. Every inhale, every tiny shift of her hips, every slow rock forward and back as she adjusted herself into a more comfortable position on top of me.

It was torture.

She edged me... painfully so.

The kind that made you hyperaware of every nerve ending, every point of contact, every place where her body matched up perfectly with mine.

I would have much preferred being burned alive than this.

"...You know what the best part is?" she asked lightly.

"What...?"

"I can hear your heartbeat."

She lowered her head, cheek brushing down my chest until her ear rested over my heart.

"...It gets faster every time I move."

To prove it, she rolled her hips again, a subtle circular motion that made her skirt drag over my lap and pushed her weight down in a way that turned my thoughts into static.

My brain went white.

"There it is," she giggled, satisfied.

"You’re driving me insane..."

"Obviously."

She looked up at me from where she lay against my chest, eyes glowing a faint, smoky crimson now.

Not purely predatory.

Playful.

But dangerously playful, like a cat toying with something it fully intended to keep.

"You made me worry," she said.

"So this is your punishment."

One of her hands left my chest and slid up, fingers trailing over my throat, tracing the line of my jaw.

Then back down.

So. Slowly.

Every millimeter of movement was deliberate, a drawn-out drag of touch that never quite became a grope but never felt innocent, either.

"I’m going to stay right here," she whispered.

She rocked forward again, settling in even more firmly, thighs tightening around me.

"Close enough that you can’t think."

Her fingers traced idle patterns over my chest.

"Close enough that you can’t relax."

Her breath warmed the side of my neck.

"Close enough that all you can smell is me, feel me, hear me..."

Her lips brushed my skin, the barest graze against my neck that sent a shudder rushing through me.

"...but not enough to let you have anything."

I froze.

"...You’re cruel."

"Hehe~"

She smiled, all sugar and fangs.

Then she deliberately adjusted again, dragging herself up my body a fraction before settling back down, as if testing different angles, different points of contact, searching for the one that made me react the most.

She found it.

Of course she did.

Her tail swayed lazily behind her, tightening and relaxing around my thigh in a slow rhythm. Her leg slid slightly higher along my side, the curve of her thigh pressing more insistently into me.

Her fingers never stopped.

They traced circles, lines, meaningless shapes over my skin, each one a new spark of sensation that never quite built into anything, always almost something more.

Minutes passed.

Or hours.

I genuinely couldn’t tell.

Because she never stopped touching me.

Light strokes down my chest. Lazy brushes against my neck. Occasional warm whispers in my ear that made my heartbeat spike for reasons that had nothing to do with fear.

Sometimes her cheek rested against mine, her breath warm and steady.

Sometimes her chin settled on my chest, and she just looked at me, her hair fanned out around us like a curtain.

Sometimes she simply stared down with that smug, knowing smile, her body relaxed but completely in control, as if she owned every inch of space between us.

Letting me stew.

Letting the tension coil tighter.

Letting anticipation chew at what little sanity I had left.

"...Evelina," I finally muttered weakly.

"Yes?"

"...You’re enjoying this way too much."

She grinned.

"Of course I am."

Her tail flicked once more around my leg, drawing a slow, deliberate circle.

"And we still have the rest of the night."

...Yeah.

I’m screwed.