An Extra’s Rise in an Eroge

The cool night air did nothing to ease the heat between them.

Arthur's grip on Amelia's waist tightened, steadying her trembling frame as she swayed unsteadily in his arms. Her body was warm, molded against him in a way that sent a slow burn coursing through his veins. The scent of wine lingered on her breath, mingling with the faint floral fragrance of her skin. Under the silver glow of the moonlight, her glossy eyes shimmered, half-lidded, lost in a haze of intoxication and longing.

"You shouldn't drink so much, sister-in-law," he murmured, his voice lower, more intimate than he intended.

A bitter laugh escaped her lips as she pressed the cool glass bottle against her flushed cheek. "What else am I supposed to do, Arthur?" she slurred, her voice thick with frustration. "Do you know what it's like to be forgotten? To be left alone for months without a word? To feel like you're nothing to the man who once swore he loved you?"

Arthur remained silent, his hands instinctively tracing slow, soothing circles against the small of her back.

"It's like I don't exist," she continued, her voice cracking. "Like I don't matter anymore. Like I've lost whatever charm I had. Am I not enough? Have I become… undesirable?"

Arthur exhaled sharply, his jaw tightening. "That's nonsense, sister in law," he said, his voice rough with an edge of something deeper. "You're breathtaking. Any man would be a fool not to see that."

She gave a humorless chuckle, shaking her head. "You're just saying that to make me feel better."

Arthur's fingers found her chin, tilting her face up to meet his gaze. His eyes darkened as they roamed over her—how the delicate silk of her nightgown clung to her curves, the way the moonlight traced every dip and rise of her form. He leaned in, close enough that his breath teased her trembling lips.

"I don't say things I don't mean," he whispered. "You're so beautiful it's dangerous… You could bring a dead man back to life."

Amelia's lips parted slightly, a soft, sharp inhale slipping past them. "Liar," she whispered, shaking her head. "If that were true… then why doesn't he want me?"

Her voice broke, fresh tears glistening in her eyes, but Arthur wasn't looking at them anymore. His gaze was locked onto her mouth, the way it quivered, how her tongue flicked out to wet her lower lip. His smirk was slow, deliberate.

"Am I?" he murmured.

Before she could question him, he guided her hand downward, his fingers lacing through hers as he pressed her palm against the hard, undeniable proof of his desire.

Amelia gasped, her entire body stiffening as her fingers instinctively curled around the thick, rigid shape straining against his trousers. A strangled sound left her throat—half a breath, half a moan—as the realization crashed over her.

Arthur leaned in, his lips grazing the shell of her ear, his voice a deep, velvety whisper.

"Does that feel like a lie to you?"

Her breath hitched, her grip tightening unconsciously, her pulse hammering beneath his fingertips.

Arthur chuckled, low and sinful. "I think you've been waiting for someone to remind you just how desirable you really are, sister in law."

His fingers ghosted down the curve of her back, slipping lower, lower—until his palm splayed against the swell of her hip, pulling her flush against him. She let out a soft, breathy whimper, her knees nearly buckling as the heat between them grew unbearable.

"Should I?" Arthur murmured against her ear, his lips just barely brushing the sensitive skin. "Should I remind you?"

The air between them was thick, charged, waiting for a single spark to set it ablaze.

Amelia's breath came in uneven pants, her body betraying her even as her mind screamed at her to pull away. And yet—she couldn't.

Until she did.

With a frantic push against his chest, she stammered, "Wha-what nonsense are you talking about?" Her voice wavered, but it was unclear whether it was from nervousness or something far more dangerous.

Then, without waiting for his response, she turned on her heel and bolted into the room.

And then—

"THUD!!"

Arthur heard the unmistakable sound of a collision, followed by a soft, pained whimper. His smirk vanished as he strode inside, only to find Amelia crouched on the floor, one hand clutching her shin.

"Sister-in-law, are you alright?" he asked, though amusement laced his voice.

"Ah~ yes~ I just bumped into the table," she murmured, biting her lip as she tried to push herself up. But the moment she put pressure on her leg, her balance faltered, and she swayed dangerously.

Before she could hit the floor, strong arms caught her mid-fall, pulling her against a firm chest. The moment was fleeting—until she realized exactly where his hand had landed.

Her breath hitched as warmth spread across her chest, Arthur's palm firmly cupping her soft, full breast. The slow, almost deliberate squeeze that followed sent a shudder down her spine.

For a second, neither of them moved. The air turned thick, suffocating, Amelia's lips parting in a silent gasp. Continue reading at My Virtual Library Empire

Arthur, ever the opportunist, cocked his head with a smirk that spelled nothing but trouble. "Oh my, my lady. Are you alright?"

His tone was smooth, teasing, and completely devoid of remorse.

A breathless giggle escaped Amelia, her cheeks blazing red. "Ha ha ha… Oh no, looks like I've fallen. How clumsy of me…"

She shifted slightly, only for his grip to adjust—his fingers flexing subtly, sending a jolt of sensation straight through her.

"Seems like you, dear brother-in-law, caught me… with quite the iron grip."

Her gaze flickered downward, locking onto his hand, still comfortably nestled against her softness. Arthur followed her gaze, an eyebrow arching in feigned surprise.

'Is the alcohol finally hitting her?' He mused, barely containing his amusement. 'Lucky me, I guess.'

"Well, can't let a delicate lady like you hit the ground," he quipped, fingers giving the slightest squeeze, just enough to make her shudder.

The warmth of his body enveloped her, his scent—masculine, rich, intoxicating—making her head spin even more than the alcohol.

"Let me help you to bed," Arthur murmured, his voice dark and smooth as silk.

His arms tightened around her, effortlessly lifting her closer, molding her soft curves against his firm frame. The movement pressed her breasts fully against his side—right where Arthur's hand was so "helpfully" placed. A sinful amount of softness filled his palm, warm and supple, and he had to bite back a groan as his fingers instinctively flexed, sinking into her plush flesh.

'So soft… so damn squishy. It's heaven.'

Heat coiled low in his stomach, hunger flaring as he felt her nipples stiffen against his touch. His smirk deepened.

'Brother, how can you leave such a beauty all alone?' He mused darkly. 'Don't worry. I'll take good care of her… personally.'

Amelia was tipsy, but she wasn't oblivious. She knew exactly what Arthur was doing. More importantly—she wasn't stopping him.

Because she needed this.

Her body was tired of neglect, tired of the lonely nights where her only company was her own fingers. She needed the real thing now. And ever since she had caught sight of him and Clara tangled in raw, primal pleasure, a deep, insatiable hunger had taken root inside her.

'Why does this feel so... good?

Her husband had never made her feel this way—never made her feel wanted, worshipped. But Arthur? His hands, his teasing words, the way he devoured her with his gaze… it set her entire being ablaze.

Her breath hitched when his hand subtly adjusted its grip. One arm curled under her thighs, firm and possessive, while the other—oh, gods above—seemed to have accidentally found itself kneading her chest like she was the finest, most delicate dough in a master baker's hands.

His thumb dragged over her taut peak, teasing slow, lazy circles. Then—a light pinch.

A shudder wracked through her.

Amelia clung to him, gasping, her nails digging into his shoulders. Her thighs pressed together, seeking friction—seeking something more.

Arthur's smirk was pure sin. He knew.

He leaned in, his lips grazing her ear, his voice a sultry whisper. "Now, sister-in-law," he drawled, each syllable dripping with unholy amusement, "I'm going to gently place you down… so I can inspect your body."

A pause.

His fingers squeezed her breast again, this time firmer, bolder.

"For any potential injuries, of course."

Amelia's knees nearly buckled, but he held her firm, his grip unrelenting.

'Oh, gods, he's dangerous.'

Her body buzzed, her skin on fire, every nerve alight with a need she hadn't felt in far too long.

"Y-yes… yes, please," she whispered breathlessly, her voice coming out in a soft, pleading murmur. "Take a thorough look at my… my body."

The moment the words left her lips, she realized how shamelessly suggestive she sounded.

Arthur's eyes darkened, his smirk curling into something predatory, something hungry.

Oh, she was doomed.

And yet…

She wanted to be.