Chapter 104 Chapter 105 Supplementary Magic
While Jima was still trying to process everything, George’s fingers were teasing the soft base of her tail.
This was definitely a sensitive spot, and Jima’s tail couldn’t help but twitch up. Her mind was a jumbled mess. She looked at George’s face, which was lit up with a mischievous smile as he said,
“Turns out Jima’s tail can perk up just like a cow’s tail.”
“Don’t touch… there.” Jima’s small face flushed a peachy pink. “Let go.”
“Okay.”
George released Jima’s tail, but before she could breathe a sigh of relief, his rough, calloused fingers gently brushed down her warm tail.
The sensation was strange, like someone was lightly grazing her belly, both ticklish and tingly.
Jima shivered, the overwhelming scent of peach blossoms made her want to open her mouth wide and indulge in desire. She bit her tongue sharply to regain her composure.
No, she had to overcome this craving. The task of quitting her addiction had to be completed; otherwise, how could she be independent?
With a sudden effort, Jima yanked her tail away from George’s grasp, but George tightened his grip, holding onto her escaping tail.
When did George become like this? In the past, he had the image of a total failure; as soon as a woman said no, he’d immediately fold like a broken twig and pull up his pants.
Could it be the alcohol?
Jima suddenly recalled what George had just said—those unfiltered words. Although she felt scared inside, she still managed to adopt a serious expression and said to George:
“George, not today. Let me go.”
George smiled at her and said, “Alright, just a moment.”
With that, he picked up Jima and walked outside.
“Hey, hey, what are you doing? Put me down!”
George ignored Jima’s protests and continued striding forward.
Without hesitation, Jima began to engage in moral coercion, leaning in close to his ear and saying, “George, you’re committing an assault.”
George replied in a low voice, “You’ve been squeezing my waist with your thighs the whole time.”
“That’s… that’s just in case I fall.”
George smiled and tightened his embrace around Jima.
The moral coercion actually didn’t work!
Jima began to firmly believe that George must be drunk.
While others were making fools of themselves on the table or pretending to be war horses on the ground, he was indulging in whatever he wanted.
Jima panicked and said, “Our affair cannot be exposed.”
“I wish we could make it public,” George said, “This is a teaching from the God of Dawn.”
This stubborn tail control really had gone mad.
Jima raised her weak hand, seeking help from the seemingly more sensible Knight Sam at the nearby table, saying, “Sir Knight, please save me.”
Knight Sam looked over and gave a suggestive smile, saying, “Wishing you a wonderful night.”
Several knights nearby whistled and said, “Good luck with the dragon-slaying!”
“May your martial destiny flourish!”
Damn, these guys. If I survive today, I’ll immediately write a sequel, change the protagonist’s personality to that of an elven king, and lock all those green-skinned orcs in prison, giving them hell every day!
Jima clenched her fists in anger.
George’s strides soon grew larger, each step making Jima feel a sense of weightlessness. He ran forward, breathing like a beast.
Jima buried her head in his shoulder, looking down.
Did she really want to let him do whatever he wanted? It seemed there was nothing wrong with that; she and he could indeed be considered lovers, so how did they end up in this situation?
She pondered, her face growing hotter, too shy to look at George.
The scenery whizzed by, the wind whipped against her flushed cheeks. George finally stopped, keeping his promise as he let go of her and set her down.
Jima felt a heat in her lower abdomen, her heart racing, the feeling of hunger stirring within her. George’s hot gaze fixed intently on her made her turn her head to avoid his eyes, focusing on the surroundings.
At the foot of the small hill, trees surrounded a clear stream, with the sounds of insects humming from behind the woods.
They were quite far from the banquet, where only the distant flicker of lights could be seen. Even if a bunch of pigs were butchered one by one, the people at the banquet wouldn’t hear the sounds.
A very considerate place for outdoor activities.
The grass was soft, not dirty at all; lying down would surely be quite comfortable.
Jima shook her head, trying to rid herself of that thought. She wrapped her arms around her chest lightly, afraid to meet George’s gaze, fearing that she might not be able to resist.
She repeatedly chanted “overcome the addiction” in her mind to strengthen her resolve.
George kissed her. As he released her, Jima sighed, feeling like someone determined to study, ultimately giving in to desire, dropping her pen to boot up the computer and log in to the game.
One hand unfastened the buckle on her cloak, and Jima did not stop him, allowing her cloak to slide off her shoulders.
She merely whispered, “This place is quiet and secret.”
A veil only she could see enveloped them, isolating them from the outside world, creating a completely private space for the two of them.
George opened the purple cloak and spread it on the grass.
Meanwhile, Jima untied the ribbon binding her black hair, shaking her head as her dark tresses cascaded down her shoulders.
George pounced on Jima, pinning her down onto the cloak like a hungry wolf…
…
…
Saintess Jenna had been striving to fulfill her duties as a proper wife. Tonight she hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol, keeping a close eye on the gathering among the men. When the knights, overly intoxicated, began dancing together on top of the tables, she found an excuse to leave, preparing to take George away.
To prevent him from making a fool of himself while drunk.
George rarely drank, and Saintess Jenna was quite curious about what George would be like when drunk.
However, his gentle nature meant he wouldn’t likely embarrass himself like those knights lying on the ground pretending to be war horses.
But after looking around, Saintess Jenna couldn’t find George.
The group of drunken knights laughed at her and said, “The dragon-slaying hero went off to have a wild night with the succubus.”
Impossible.
Saintess Jenna instinctively denied it. There was no way George would act out after drinking; even if he did, he would surely want his fiancée by his side.
Although Jima was quite mischievous, she had acknowledged her role as George’s legitimate wife.
“No way.”
A knight directed Jenna, “I saw them myself; they ran that way.”
For some reason, a bitter feeling arose in Jenna’s heart. How could he bypass his wife to find a lover?
She followed the direction the knight pointed, the night obscuring her sight. She noticed footprints on the ground, which gradually increased in distance as she followed them. After walking for half an hour, Saintess Jenna arrived at the small river view, deep in the grove at the foot of the hill.
The footprints vanished into the trees.
The woods were quiet and still, without a sound.
These two must have gotten drunk and fallen asleep in the woods; what would happen if they got cold?
As worry swept through her, she felt a bit relieved.
It was better than walking in on them in an intimate moment.
Entering the woods, she called out, “George, Jima! Are you there?”
No one responded.
She called out again as she passed a sturdy oak tree by the river. A drop of warm liquid fell onto her cheek. She wiped it off, looking around, but only saw the silent woods without paying it any mind.
An hour later, Saintess Jenna abandoned her search and returned to sleep.
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Couldn’t think of anything better to use as a metaphor; well, guess I’ll just send it to the QQ group, QQ number in the comments.
