"Do you really have no regard for your own repute, lusting after your colleague''s fiancée like this, Citizen Saint-Clemont?" Andre looked at the two of them, a mixture of displeasure and anticipation in his eyes.

Raphael retorted, "Don''t you think you''re saying this too late?"

Edith still clung to the last bit of rationality, weakly struggling in the young man''s embrace, feigning to kick him. Raphael cunningly played along, not rushing to penetrate, but rubbing his lower body obscenely around her slit, coating himself in her sweet nectar. His hands didn''t forget to fondle her breasts, squeezing and teasing her nipples like plums.

She soon lost the will to resist and melted like honey in the arms of this noble youth.

"Edith, are you really going to let someone of his blood enter your body?" Andre, gasping for breath, couldn''t help but ask, consumed by jealousy.

"My blood runs just as red as his, just as my semen is no cooler than his, cherie!" With a sudden thrust, Raphael entered her open passage.

She involuntarily let out a cry and then sheepishly looked at Andre. The man across from them stared blankly at the place where Raphael and she had joined, his gaze hazy, his blonde hair disheveled from their recent passion. She saw his cock, which had just erupted, rising fiercely from his already torn trousers, its reddened tip glistening with a drop of clear liquid, trembling as if craving caress.

However, he bit his lip and his hand lightly lifted and dropped on the seat several times, appearing hesitant.

Raphael evidently noticed his rival''s actions and asked curiously, "Why hold back from stroking yourself, Quenet?"

"I disdain engaging in such base acts of self-indulgence!" Andre averted his gaze, his words shaky, lacking confidence.

Raphael smiled and continued his movements below: "Don''t make such absolute statements, Citizen Quenet. Soon enough, you''ll indulge in that."