Chapter 463: 463. She Was The First To Woke Up And Feeling All Sore While I’m Still Sleeping

Elizabeth opened both eyes when she heard birds chirping outside. "Hah...!"

The first thing Elizabeth noticed upon waking was the ceiling.

It was not her ceiling. Her ceiling featured a small water stain in the northwest corner that she had intended to report to the building manager for about four months, but this ceiling had no such stain.

The ceiling was clean and strange, a little lower than her own, and it told her, as strange ceilings tell those who wake up under them, that she was not at home.

She was already aware of her situation. She had realized it before the ceiling confirmed her suspicions.

’I’m still alive, huh...? Even after that one brutal night...’ Elizabeth exhaled. ’Well... I’m glad...’

She paused for a moment, still, looking around the room with the intent focus of a deliberate person: the window with the curtain that never closed right, the pale band of pre-dawn light leaking through the gap, the table where her robe sat neatly over the chair, her boots on the floor in the familiar pattern she always left them without a second thought.

Elizabeth then noticed Rex was asleep beside her.

’Ahh... he’s still here, but thankfully he’s asleep.’

’I’m scared that he’s still awake just to take me again right now.’

’But... I wouldn’t mind it... as long as he promises to help me with that key and more information about those legions.’

Rex lay on his back, which seemed to be his preferred resting position, one arm at his side and the other resting across his chest. He breathed with a calm, settled evenness that suggested he had no relationship with guilt or anxiety as companions in sleep.

If Elizabeth were to be honest, he appeared to be someone who had simply chosen to sleep and had done so without complication—unlike her, who often needed an hour of lying awake before her mind accepted that the day had come to an end.

She looked at him for a moment. "I’m trying to forget that last night was just going to be a one-time thing... hopefully..."

The light was dim enough that the room felt more like shadow than detail, yet it was sufficient for her to observe. She gazed with the focused attention of someone being honest with herself about what she was seeing.

Then she sat up carefully, trying not to disturb the person beside her, causing the sheet to fall away and reminding her, in the immediate and comprehensive way that cold morning air communicates with skin, that she was not wearing anything.

She sat with this information for a moment. "My body... oh god... I have bruises everywhere because he was so rough yesterday."

"I’ll make sure that Alexander won’t notice a thing about my condition," she said, very quietly, to no one.

There was a small, standing mirror on the table across the room, equipped with a tilt adjustment. In the pre-dawn light, it reflected a truthful image—neither flattering nor unkind.

Elizabeth studied her reflection with the same methodical attention she applied to anything she needed to comprehend thoroughly.

The least she could accept was that she was fine. And by any objective measure, she was entirely fine.

After hours of primal, intense intimacy with Rex’s imposing physique, enduring the relentless, rhythmic battering of his powerful thrusts that felt more like a siege than a sexual encounter, and experiencing the sheer physical toll of being pressed into the mattress until her very bones seemed to vibrate, she had emerged. She had survived the onslaught of his desire, much like she had withstood the lightning strikes in the canyon.

Her muscles were not just fatigued; they were bruised and tender from the grip of his massive hands, which had held her with enough force to leave lasting welts. Her internal walls were more than sore; they were swollen and aching from the overwhelming volume of his semen that had filled her, stretching her to the brink of discomfort.

She had, she thought, in a very small and entirely private way, been uncertain about whether she would come out of that bed in the condition she was currently in.

"That was the encounter," she told the mirror, as if it needed clarification. "That is a separate matter."

The mirror offered no opinion on the matter’s separateness. It simply reflected the truth: the slight tremor in her lips, the flush that refused to leave her chest, and the way her eyes seemed to hold a lingering, frantic light that hadn’t been there yesterday.

That was an admission she was prepared to accept at five in the morning in an unfamiliar room with no one to witness her thoughts. She was fine.

She had endured the onslaught of his lust, the bruising of her skin, and the complete unraveling of her composure. She had emerged from it all unscathed.

That was where her contemplation ended.

She stood up and did some stretching, attempting to shake off the heavy, lethargic fog that had settled into her limbs. "Mmmmpphh—aghhh!"

The sound was a sharp, involuntary gasp that broke the morning silence. She immediately doubled over, her hands flying to her lower abdomen as a dull, throbbing ache radiated from her core.

"Oh god... my body is still hurt!" she hissed through clenched teeth, her voice a strained whisper.

This wasn’t just soreness; this was a specific localized agony, and every movement was a calculated risk.

She tried to straighten her spine, but a sharp, stinging sensation flashed in her hips, a direct reminder of the violent, bruising way Rex had grabbed her ass to anchor her for his pounding. Her skin felt raw and sensitive, as if the very air in the room were too rough against the tender welts he had left behind. 𝐟𝕣𝕖𝐞𝐰𝕖𝚋𝐧𝗼𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝗰𝐨𝐦

But the worst of it was deeper. Every time she shifted her weight, she felt a heavy, swollen sensation between her thighs.

Her most private parts felt bruised from the inside out, a deep, internal ache that spoke of the relentless, heavy friction of his massive cock slamming against her cervix over and over again. It felt as though he had physically reshaped her, stretching her to a limit she hadn’t known existed.

And then there was the sensation of fullness—the heavy, warm, and slightly uncomfortable feeling of his massive cream pie still settling deep within her. It was a constant, pulsing reminder of his dominance, a weight that made her feel heavy and unanchored.

Every step she took felt like she was carrying a part of him inside her, a liquid testament to his conquest that refused to be ignored.

"He was... he was too much," she whispered to the empty room, her eyes fluttering shut as she fought a wave of dizziness. "He didn’t just fuck me... he dismantled me."

She stood there for a moment, leaning heavily against the bed, waiting for the sharp stabs of pain to subside into a manageable throb. Her body was a map of his intensity, a landscape of bruises and soreness that no amount of "competent practicality" could truly erase.

She was fine, she told herself again, but as a fresh wave of soreness pulsed through her womb, she knew that "fine" was a very generous term for a woman who had been thoroughly, brutally, and beautifully broken.

"I need to take a shower to clean all of this..." Elizabeth said, letting out a huge exhale.

...

She took a long shower, dried herself with the cloth hanging beside it, and then went to the chair where her clothes were.

She dressed in her usual order, doing so automatically without a second thought: first, the stockings; then, the under-layer; next, the blouse; and finally, her robe.

She glanced at Rex once more; he remained motionless. "He’s still sleeping..."

Elizabeth noticed that Rex’s face in sleep was not significantly different from his face when awake, which she had found unusual before. Most people relaxed into expressions in sleep that they did not wear in waking hours.

Rex was simply Rex, which could be either reassuring or alarming, depending on how she chose to interpret it.

"I am not going to spend the next five minutes deciding which," she informed the room.

The room did not argue.

She picked up her boots and carried them to the door instead of putting them on in the room, demonstrating her desire to avoid making a scene, and then she slipped out into the corridor and sat on the bench at the top of the stairs to put them on.

The Silver Rest Inn was quiet, the kind of quiet that hinted it wouldn’t remain so for long. From two floors below, she could hear the early sounds of the kitchen—specific noises that indicated someone was beginning breakfast preparations.

This meant that the morning had commenced for at least one person, even if the rest of the building was still in a state of indecision.

"Coffee," she said to herself, in the tone of someone issuing a directive.

She walked downstairs.

The common room was devoid of guests, but the kitchen door stood ajar, allowing the enticing aroma of something warm and bread-like to waft into the space. Elizabeth was drawn to it, knowing that coffee was an urgent necessity and typically found near those inviting bread-like scents.

Mara sat at the kitchen table, peeling something with the practiced efficiency of someone who had performed this task so many times it required no conscious thought. She glanced up as Elizabeth entered, her expression briefly shifting through several reactions before settling into a warm, direct welcome that seemed reserved for unexpected guests.

"Oh! Good morning, Professor Elizabeth Von Starlight," she said. "You’re up early."

"I usually am," Elizabeth said. "I’m sorry to intrude. I was looking for coffee."

"Pot’s on the left," Mara said, nodding toward the stove. "Cups are on the shelf above it."

"Help yourself."