SSS Talent: From Trash to Tyrant Chapter 482: Passionate Night [+18]

Though the sheets felt cool against her skin, the atmosphere surrounding Trafalgar was anything but.

He hovered over her briefly, lost in contemplation, as he often did when he imagined she was unaware. Aubrelle reached upward, her hands working to undo his tie before pulling it free and letting it drift onto the floor. He watched her movements without interference.

"Your jacket," she murmured softly.

He shrugged it off in total silence.

She hoisted herself up just enough to assist with the buttons of his shirt, starting from the collar and moving downward, her touch unhurried. Trafalgar shifted his hand until it rested on the thin strap of her shoulder, tracing it once before sliding it downward. She offered no protest. The fabric of her dress glided down in response to his touch, and he pressed a warm kiss to her shoulder, then to the slender curve of her neck, and finally to her jawline.

Aubrelle exhaled a ragged breath.

"You are still lost in thought," she whispered against his temple.

"My mind never stops working."

"Cease it."

This time, he kissed her with true intent, one hand cupping the back of her head, and she could feel the last remnants of the cautious distance between them vanishing entirely. She grasped the front of his unbuttoned shirt to pull him nearer, and he moved towards her effortlessly, his forehead resting gently against hers as the kiss broke.

They shared no further words.

The bedside lamp remained lit, bathing the sanctuary in an amber glow, while somewhere nearby, Pipin shifted and settled into stillness. The estate had fallen into a deep, heavy silence—a quiet that only descends when the night resolves to leave certain intimate moments undisturbed.

Both were exposed, and for a short moment, Trafalgar pulled himself away.

He moved back just enough to create a sliver of space, his gaze scanning every line of her face with intense focus. She had been curled against him, relaxed and at peace, but once his arms loosened and his chest parted from hers, she froze.

Her brow creased. The familiar heat had retreated. Instinctively, she reached out, her fingers meeting nothing but empty linen.

"Trafalgar?" His name barely escaped her lips, sounding more like a reflex than a query. Without his physical presence, or the rhythmic sound of his breath against her skin, he could have been anywhere—or nowhere at all. She could not perceive him observing her; she could not know his eyes had mirrored her very soul for every heart-splitting second.

To her perceptions, he had simply ceased to be there.

But when she tapped into Pipin's perspective, she saw Trafalgar standing motionless, openly scanning the curves of her unclothed body.

"Traf..." she began, her voice a mere whisper, her fingers nervously twisting the bedclothes. "Do you enjoy what you see?"

A brief silence hung in the air, enough to bring a flush to her cheeks, before he responded.

"Exceedingly," Trafalgar replied, his tone maintaining that unsettling calm that only escalated the tension. "Even more so now, given everything that transpired today." She felt the mattress dip under his weight as he adjusted, settling between her legs. His hands found her hips, anchored and warm. "Besides," he mused, adding as an afterthought, his voice dropping an octave, "I suspect you are more than prepared."

Indeed, under the circumstances, Aubrelle found herself growing agitated by Trafalgar’s gaze; she took delight in the fact that her husband was examining her so closely, analyzing every inch of her exposed form, a fact betrayed by the moisture beginning to pool.*

As she sensed his proximity, the warmth radiating from him, and the shift in the air, she reacted instantly. Her hands found his frame without hesitation, fingers curling with firm intent around the back of his neck to draw him closer.

"I am ready, Trafalgar," she breathed, her voice low yet carrying a weight that brooked no argument. The subtle tremor in her voice was unmistakable. "And I desire this... deeply."

Trafalgar required no further invitation.

With a guiding touch, he took hold of his member and began to rub it along her entrance, teasing her.

"Ah... ahhhn~ Mmph!" She cried out as Trafalgar continued to play with her in such a manner. "Traf~ you are being wicked, teasing me like this... just enter already."

"Are you in such a hurry?" Trafalgar asked. Yet, he did not force Aubrelle to wait any longer.

He guided the head of his cock against the soft skin of her pussy, parting her pale lips to reach the pink interior.

Aubrelle bit her lip, her thighs shivering as she felt his length press deeply into her.

"Nnngh! Haaah~" Aubrelle moaned as she felt herself being completely filled.

Trafalgar felt his own body shudder in ecstasy as her wet, tight pussy squeezed him.

"You are incredibly tight, you know that?" He thrust his hips back, his member nearly slipping out before he plunged himself back inside to the hilt.

She shifted her hands, gripping them with intensity as she struggled for control. Trafalgar allowed it, and Aubrelle guided her own hands to her breasts.

Trafalgar sensed her request perfectly.

His hands began to soothe her breasts, slowly manipulating her areolas, sucking on them, and grazing her nipples.

"Ahngn~" Aubrelle moaned, her eyes fluttering toward the back of her head.

After lingering there for a time, Trafalgar’s lips met hers once more in a heated, consuming kiss, their breaths and saliva mixing. Pulling back slightly, he whispered in her ear, "I am nearing the end."

Aubrelle seemed even more worked up by his confession, her grip intensifying.

"Shit, you are so tight, Aubrelle."

"Traf... I think I am... I am... aghn~~ Hnngh~" Her lips parted, her voice lost to a moan of pure pleasure as she began to experience violent, rhythmic contractions.

Trafalgar pushed himself to his limit. He felt the walls of her cunt pulsing around him, his member burning with intensity before he finally released. Trafalgar did not withdraw, instead pouring himself deep into Aubrelle's core.

Once they had both reached their peak, Trafalgar finally pulled away, watching as his essence spilled from her, tracing a path down her body.

"Ghn~~" Aubrelle sighed, her legs losing their strength from the sheer intensity of the climax.

Trafalgar caught her, pulling her into a tight embrace. He murmured, "I possess enough vigor to last the entire night."

"I, too, have plenty of strength to remain here with you," she whispered, her fingers tightening slightly against his neck.

And so, the night became their own. Trafalgar and Aubrelle succumbed to one another, finding solace in the warmth, the soft laughter, the tangled bedclothes, and the intimate whispers that felt significant enough to transcend the dark. It was the epitome of a wedding night, and then some.

As the first pale hues of morning light filtered through the mansion windows, the outside world drifted into a brand new day. Within the room, stillness reigned, disturbed only by the soft rhythm of their breathing and the distant melody of Pipin welcoming the dawn. The great estate rested in the quiet, as if the very architecture had conspired to grant them this momentary peace.