The velvet night draped over the estate, a hushed blanket woven with threads of silver moonlight and the distant, melodic chirping of crickets. Inside her private chambers, Charlotte Reis, her mind usually a whirl of strategic calculations and noble duties befitting a figure from the world of As A Reincarnated Aristocrat I'll Use My Appraisal Skill To Rise In The World, found an unusual quietude. Tonight, the weight of her responsibilities, the intricate political landscapes she navigated, and the subtle applications of her unique appraisal skill seemed to recede, replaced by a softer, more intimate yearning. Her heart, typically resolute and disciplined, pulsed with a different kind of anticipation, a warmth that had been building steadily throughout the day.

She stood by the large, arched window, her silhouette framed by the gentle glow of the moon. Her magnificent blue hair, usually meticulously styled, cascaded freely down her back, a silken waterfall catching the pale light. Her famed blue eyes, sharp and perceptive in any council meeting, now held a dreamy, almost vulnerable glint. A soft, silk chemise clung to her figure, doing little to conceal the elegant curves that hinted at a strength and beauty often overshadowed by her intellect and dignified demeanor. She traced a pattern on the cool glass, her thoughts drifting to the man who would soon join her, the only one privy to this softer, more yearning side of Charlotte Reis.

He entered silently, a shadow detached from the deeper shadows of the room, yet his presence was a warmth she felt before she even heard his soft footsteps. A shiver, both of pleasure and slight apprehension, ran through her. She turned, a faint blush rising on her cheeks, betraying the calm exterior she usually presented to the world. His eyes, dark and knowing, met hers, and in their depths, she saw not just admiration, but a profound understanding, a mirroring of the unspoken desires that coiled within her. He was not a lord, nor a rival, but simply Kaito – a steadfast, gentle presence who saw beyond the title, beyond the powerful intellect, to the woman beneath.

"Charlotte," he murmured, his voice a low, soothing balm. He closed the door behind him, plunging the room into an even deeper intimacy, illuminated only by the moonlight and the single, flickering lamp on a nearby table. The air seemed to thicken, charged with an invisible energy, a tension that was exquisitely pleasurable. She felt a familiar thrum deep within her core, a response that had become uniquely hers when he was near.

He approached her slowly, deliberately, giving her space, allowing her to dictate the pace. This gentle respect was one of the many reasons she trusted him with her most vulnerable self. He extended a hand, and she instinctively reached out, her fingers brushing against his, sending a jolt of warmth up her arm. Their palms met, and then their fingers intertwined, a silent pledge of the intimacy they were about to share. Her blue eyes, wide and luminous, searched his, finding only tenderness and ardent desire.

"Kaito," she whispered, her voice a breathy sigh. The formality of her usual address had vanished, replaced by a raw, unadorned yearning. She felt herself leaning into his touch, her body swaying almost imperceptibly towards him. He drew her closer, his other hand coming to rest on her waist, his thumb stroking the soft silk of her chemise. The sensation was electrifying, spreading through her like wildfire, awakening senses that had been dormant beneath the weight of her daily duties in Tensei Kizoku Kantei Skill De Nariagaru.

His lips found her temple, a soft kiss that sent shivers down her spine, then moved to her cheek, tracing a path to the corner of her mouth. Her breath hitched. She tilted her head slightly, offering herself, her blue eyes closing as she anticipated the contact. When their lips finally met, it was not a fierce, demanding kiss, but a tender exploration, a slow blossoming of desire. His lips were soft, coaxing, gently parting hers, his tongue a tentative dance against her own. She responded with an eager passion, her hands rising to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss.

The kiss grew in intensity, a symphony of soft moans and whispered breaths. He pulled back just enough to gaze into her eyes, his thumbs gently caressing her cheekbones. "You are exquisite, Charlotte," he murmured, his voice husky with desire. Her cheeks flushed a deeper crimson. The rare compliments, the genuine admiration in his gaze, always melted her carefully constructed defenses. She felt herself unfurling, like a delicate flower opening to the sun after a long night.

He began to unbutton her chemise, his movements slow and deliberate, each button a pause in time, each reveal a new layer of delicious anticipation. Her fingers trembled slightly as she helped him, her skin tingling at the brush of his fingertips. The silk slid from her shoulders, pooling around her waist, exposing her collarbones, the gentle curve of her breasts. The cool night air met her warmed skin, only to be replaced by the warmth of his gaze, which felt like a caress in itself.

With a soft sigh, the chemise dropped to the floor, leaving her clad only in delicate lace underthings. Her breasts, full and exquisitely shaped, rose and fell with her quickening breath, their nipples already budding into firm peaks. He knelt before her, his eyes devouring her form, a silent reverence in his posture. Charlotte felt a blush consume her entire body, but it was a blush of pleasure, not embarrassment. She reveled in his adoration, in the way he made her feel utterly beautiful and desired.

His hands, warm and strong, gently cupped her breasts through the lace, his thumbs circling the aroused peaks. A soft moan escaped her lips, and she arched into his touch, her head falling back. The world seemed to shrink to just the two of them, to the intoxicating sensations he was stirring within her. He leaned forward, his lips brushing against the lace, then gently tugging at the fabric, drawing her nipple into his mouth through the sheer material. A gasp tore from her throat, her fingers tightening in his hair.

The raw pleasure was almost overwhelming, a testament to the undeniable connection they shared. He peeled away the lace, revealing her bare breasts, glistening faintly in the moonlight. He took one rosy nipple into his mouth, suckling gently, his tongue laving the sensitive skin. Charlotte gasped again, her knees weakening. "Kaito," she pleaded, her voice thick with desire. He moved to the other breast, giving it equal attention, alternating between gentle nips and deep suckling until her entire chest was alive with sensation, her body trembling with a delicious ache.

He rose, his hands moving to the delicate lace briefs she still wore. Her hips instinctively tilted towards him, urging him on. He knelt once more, his fingers deftly slipping beneath the fabric. The soft material was pushed aside, revealing the silken curve of her inner thighs, the delicate delta of her womanhood, already moist and swollen with desire. He gazed at her, his expression a mixture of awe and fervent hunger. Charlotte felt a heat spread through her most intimate core, a deep, insistent throb that demanded release.

"Beautiful," he breathed, his voice barely a whisper. He leaned in, his tongue tasting the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, sending a jolt through her. She gasped, her fingers burying themselves in her unbound blue hair, clutching at the silken strands. He moved higher, his hot breath ghosting over her clitoris, sending exquisite shivers through her. Then, his tongue descended, a warm, wet caress that had her crying out, her body arching violently.

He devoured her with an expert tenderness, his tongue swirling, flicking, sucking, eliciting wave after wave of pleasure from her. Her hands gripped his shoulders, her hips bucking against his face, no longer able to control the primal urges that consumed her. She was lost in a maelstrom of sensation, the world spinning around her, her mind emptied of all thoughts save for the exquisite pleasure he was inflicting. Her orgasms came in quick succession, each one more profound than the last, leaving her breathless and trembling, her entire being alight with post-coital bliss.

He rose, helping her to the bed, gently laying her down upon the silken sheets. Her blue eyes, still hazy with pleasure, watched him as he shed his own clothes. His body was lean and strong, perfectly sculpted, and her gaze lingered on the prominent ridge beneath his trousers, growing thicker and more insistent with each passing moment. He stood before her, fully nude, his erection standing proudly, a testament to his own barely contained desire. Charlotte, though still reeling from her own climax, felt a fresh wave of longing wash over her, a desperate need to feel him, to taste him.

"My turn, Kaito," she whispered, her voice husky, a newfound boldness in her tone. She reached out, her fingers closing around his engorged member. It was hot, firm, pulsing with life. She stroked him gently, feeling the velvet skin, the prominent head. His breath hitched, and he groaned, a deep, guttural sound of pleasure. Her touch was hesitant at first, then grew bolder, more confident, as she began to explore him, remembering all the things that brought him pleasure.

She guided him gently towards her face, her eyes locking with his, a silent promise passing between them. He sat on the edge of the bed, allowing her to take him into her hands. Her blue hair fanned out around her as she knelt, her face level with his magnificent erection. She inhaled deeply, a musky, masculine scent filling her senses. Her heart pounded with a mix of excitement and anticipation. This was a different kind of devotion, a surrender to pure, unadulterated sensation, a release from the rigid expectations of her daily life as Charlotte Reis, the capable aristocrat.

Her lips, soft and pliant, grazed the tip of his shaft, drawing a sharp gasp from him. She felt him swell even further, growing thicker, harder. She took him slowly into her mouth, her tongue circling the head, tasting the pre-cum that glistened on its surface. He was delicious, a potent blend of salt and raw masculinity. She took more of him, her mouth stretching, accommodating his impressive size, her throat working instinctively. Her technique, though perhaps unrefined by courtly standards, was driven by a deep desire to please him, to draw every ounce of pleasure from his being.

She began to suckle, her tongue dancing around the sensitive ridge, her cheeks hollowing as she took him deeper. He groaned, his hands coming to rest on her head, gently guiding her movements, though never forcing. She worked him with a rhythm that grew more confident, sliding him in and out of her mouth, applying just the right amount of pressure. The sensation of his thick shaft filling her mouth, pressing against her soft palate, was incredibly intimate, profoundly arousing. She could feel the pulses of his blood, the tremors running through his body as he struggled to maintain control.

Her blue eyes, half-lidded with concentration and pleasure, occasionally flickered up to meet his, seeing the raw, unadulterated bliss etched on his face. She wanted to *milk* him, to draw out every last drop of his essence, to feel his release wash over her. This was the ultimate act of surrender, of taking him entirely, of consuming him in the most primal way. She quickened her pace, her tongue working furiously, her throat alternately tightening and loosening, taking him deeper, then pulling back just enough to tease.

He began to pant, his hands gripping her blue hair more firmly, his hips bucking in a slow, uncontrolled rhythm. Charlotte felt his shaft pulse against her tongue, felt the warning tremors that preceded his climax. She bore down, taking him as deeply as her throat would allow, using her hands to stroke his balls, to tease his perineum, pushing him closer and closer to the edge. The taste was growing stronger, more insistent, a metallic tang mixed with pure exhilaration. She wanted it all, craved it.

"Charlotte… oh, goddess… I can't… I'm going to…" he gasped, his voice cracking with intensity. She squeezed her throat gently, milking him, drawing him out, then burying her face against his pelvis as the first hot spurts of his release began. He came with a guttural roar, pumping into her mouth, a torrent of hot, thick fluid. She swallowed greedily, taking every drop, her throat working, her entire being consumed by the act of receiving him. The taste, the warmth, the sheer volume, it was intoxicating, a profound experience that rooted itself deep within her.

His body trembled violently as the last spasms of his orgasm subsided. He leaned back, utterly spent, his hands still tangled in her blue hair, now damp with sweat. Charlotte remained kneeling for a moment, savoring the lingering taste of him, the intimacy of the act. She looked up at him, her blue eyes shining with a mixture of triumph and deep affection. There was a faint sheen of his essence on her lips, a testament to her devotion, a badge of honor in their shared secret world.

He reached out, his thumb gently wiping away a stray drop from her chin, his touch infinitely tender. "You are incredible," he whispered, his voice still hoarse. Charlotte felt a warmth bloom in her chest, a feeling more potent than any political victory. She smiled, a genuine, radiant smile that reached her blue eyes, making them sparkle even brighter.

He pulled her up, cradling her against his bare chest, her body fitting perfectly against his. The aftermath of their passion left a beautiful stillness in the room, a contentment that settled deep within her bones. He kissed the top of her head, stroking her blue hair, his presence a comforting weight against her. Her mind, so often occupied with the intricacies of her world in As A Reincarnated Aristocrat I'll Use My Appraisal Skill To Rise In The World, now felt utterly at peace, filled only with the lingering echoes of pleasure and the profound connection they shared.

They lay tangled in the silken sheets, the moonlight casting long, gentle shadows across their entwined bodies. Charlotte rested her head on his shoulder, her fingers tracing patterns on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. She felt utterly cherished, utterly seen. Tonight, she wasn't just Charlotte Reis, the discerning aristocrat with an appraisal skill; she was simply Charlotte, a woman deeply in love, exploring the depths of her passion with the one person who truly understood her. The world outside, with its duties and demands, faded into insignificance, replaced by the profound intimacy of their shared night, a memory she would carry, a secret pleasure she would forever treasure, until the next time their hidden desires called to them under the moonlit sky.