Holy Night: My Husband is Definitely a Paladin - Chapter 87
Not monster blood? Then what blood was it?
Ireneās eyes widened in surprise at his answer.
āCould it be… human blood?ā
The thought sent a wave of panic through her, and she instinctively began frantically feeling around his abdomen and chest. She was worried that Michael might have sustained serious injuries.
The thin, blood-soaked fabric clung to his body, revealing the contours of his physique even more clearly.
Despite her desperate search, there were no tears in Michaelās clothing, and naturally, no wounds could be felt.
Then the blood must be…
āSomeone elseās blood.ā
Even though the idea that it was someone elseās blood was still horrifying, Irene sighed in relief, realizing that Michael was unharmed.
As he had been watching her, Micheal narrowed his eyes, as if surprised by her reaction.
But Irene, unaware of his shift in expression, hurriedly asked,
āThen whose blooā?ā
She trailed off, realizing her mouth was still covered by his large hand.
āOh.ā
Michael, too, seemed to have just realized that he was still covering her mouth, letting out a short sound of acknowledgment.
Ordinarily, he would have immediately withdrawn his hand upon realizing this. After all, he was someone who always maintained distance. That was his usual demeanor.
But even though Michael had now realized his hand was covering Ireneās face, he didnāt pull it away.
āWhy?ā
As Ireneās confusion grew, he finally loosened his grip, though his hand still remained over her face, as if hesitant to fully withdraw.
While she tried to make sense of his behavior, he slowly moved his hand.
He wiped away the sweat that had trickled down her forehead with his fingers.
Just when she thought that would be the end of it, his hand lingered.
Instead of stopping, his fingers gently swept down, touching her straight eyebrows with a slow caress. When his fingers brushed her eyelashes, Irene couldnāt hold back the ticklish sensation and closed her eyes.
She thought closing her eyes might make her feel less self-conscious, but instead, the sensation of his hand brushing the fine hairs on her face only became more vivid.
His fingers playfully tapped her nose before moving lower.
The rough pad of his thumb softly pressed against her lips.
ā…!ā
At that point, Irene couldnāt ignore it anymore.
This gesture was filled with unmistakable intent.
Thatās what made it all the more confusing. Anyone else doing this wouldnāt have been such a shock, but this was Michael.
The same Michael who, just earlier that day, had sat at a distance from her, maintaining a polite but distant demeanor.
The chaste, upstanding holy knight.
And now this man, of all people, was touching her face with clear intent to tease.
āIs this a dream?ā
It seemed like the only explanation that made any sense.
Just then, as if he hesitated for a moment, his thumb pressed harder against her lips.
With just a slight application of pressure, Ireneās mouth parted.
Through the small opening, her white teeth and the glistening, red surface of her tongue were faintly visible.
At that sight, the trace of a smile on Michaelās face vanished.
His earlier ease disappeared, and after staring at her for a while, as if he had made up his mind, he slowly pushed his thumb into her mouth.
Though it was only a single finger, Irene found herself choking slightly, unable to hold back the gag reflex.
But Michael didnāt pull his finger out.
Instead, he pushed it deeper, moving it in and out with slow, deliberate motions.
With each movement, his actions became bolder.
At first, he had only explored the inside of her mouth, but now he pushed deeper, brushing against the delicate lining of her mouth.
His slow, slick movements made Ireneās face flush red.
It was becoming more difficult to bear, and a faint nausea began to rise.
When his finger finally touched the back of her throat, Irene coughed and shook her head.
Noticing her discomfort, he stopped pushing deeper and let his finger rest lightly on her tongue.
Realizing he wasnāt going to remove his finger, Irene cautiously moved her tongue.
If he wasnāt going to stop, she had no choice but to adapt to the sensation.
