My Wives are Beautiful Demons - Chapter 339

Chapter 339: Morgana, you want something serious…
Vergil remained silent for a long moment.

His eyes were fixed on Morgana, not on her clothes – as revealing as they were – but on her. The way she tried to hide her vulnerability behind her sensuality. He was too perceptive to fall into the obvious trap. But at the same time… it was impossible to ignore.

“Did you… really do all that just to provoke me?” he asked, his voice low, almost tired. But there was no anger, just genuine curiosity – and something deeper hidden between the lines.

Morgana bit her lower lip, still holding his hand against her exposed thigh.

“No. I did it to be honest. For the first time in a long time.”

Vergil sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. He wasn’t the kind of man who reacted impulsively. But he wasn’t iron either – not completely.

“You didn’t need all that,” he said, opening his eyes and looking directly into hers. “If you wanted my attention… you already had it. I was just trying to figure out if it was real.”

“Is it?” she asked, her voice lower, softer.

“It is now.” His hand didn’t move, but his fingers lightly squeezed her thigh in silent response.

Morgana leaned in slowly, her eyes still fixed on his. “So… you’re not going to run away?”

“Run away?” He arched an eyebrow, his expression somewhere between amused and resigned. “You’re dressed in magic bunny lingerie and you’re sitting on this bed saying you deserve a reward.”

“And I do,” she whispered, bolder now. “I’ve been faithful. And… I’m being honest. And you owe me a reaction, at least.”

Vergil finally smiled – one of those rare small but real smiles. “This is a trap.”

“It is,” Morgana replied immediately, amused. “But a very well-stitched trap.”

“By your mother.”

“Exactly.” She moved closer. “Are you going to give me what I want?”

“And what exactly do you want, Morgana?”

She looked at him as if she was about to say something indecent… but then she stopped. She took a deep breath. And with raw sincerity, she answered:

“I want you to see me. Not just as a seductive witch. Not as a powerful ally. But as someone who… is tired of pretending. Who wants to be part of something real. Of you. Of Alice. Of this mess we call life.”

Vergil’s smile faded – not from disgust, but because that answer struck deeper than he had expected. He looked at Morgana for long seconds.

Then he said, “Do you really want this?”

She nodded…

Vergil stared at her for a moment that seemed to extend time. The air between them became thick, electrified by an ancient tension, carefully repressed until that moment.

With a slow, almost reverent gesture, he slid his hand down her thigh to her waist, holding her firmly. Morgana’s eyes widened for a brief second – not in fear, but in surprise. He was right there. Not running away. Not rejecting. Not resisting.

“So… come here,” he murmured.

She didn’t even have to think. She leaned towards him as if answering a call she had been waiting for for a long time.

Their lips met softly at first – a restrained, exploratory kiss, as if they were both testing the boundaries they had yet to cross. But then something changed. As if her confession had broken an invisible dam inside him.

Vergil pulled her closer, and the kiss deepened, gaining heat, desire and urgency. His fingers dug lightly into the curve of her waist, and she pulled him by the collar of his shirt, gluing their bodies together with a need that could no longer fit inside her chest.

Morgana’s breathing faltered for a moment, and she lost herself in the sensation – in his taste, his firm touch, the total absence of hesitation. Vergil was there, present, with his eyes closed and his senses open, and his every movement said what words never dared.

She slid her hands down his chest, feeling the muscles tense under the fabric. He was heat, steel and control – but at that moment, he let himself go. By her. By their mutual desire. By the slow surrender.

Vergil’s fingers trailed up her spine, tracing each vertebra as if memorizing its contour. When he reached the nape of her neck, he held her gently, guiding the kiss as if it were a dance.

Morgana moaned softly against his lips – not a forced sound, but real, raw, born of a truth that not all the provocation in the world could forge.

And it was there, in that moment between kisses, that she understood: she didn’t need to win him over with tricks. Not with fantasy. Not with rehearsed words.

He wanted her – just the way she was, with all her layers. And now… he had her.

After a few seconds…

They pulled apart slowly, as if time had slowed down just so that this moment could last longer.

Morgana could still taste him on her lips, and her breathing was ragged, ragged – as if all the air in the world wasn’t enough to fill the space left by his touch. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, and she tried to disguise it with a slight smile, but her eyes… they hid nothing.

Vergil, for his part, watched her in silence. He didn’t seem sorry or upset. But he didn’t rush to repeat the gesture either. As if he had reached a line he didn’t cross often – and was now considering what to do about it.

Morgana ran a hand through her hair, trying to pull herself together, even though her legs were still a little shaky.

“So…” she began, her voice hoarse and low, “…that was…”

“Real.” Vergil answered before she could finish.

She bit her lip again, but this time with a small, muffled, nervous laugh. “Damn… That wasn’t in my plans.”

“Not at all?” He raised an eyebrow.

“I mean, the clothes part was. But… not that part.” She looked at him, seriously now. “Not the part where I really feel something.”

Vergil ran a hand through his hair, a rare gesture of vulnerability. He looked as lost as she did, inside – although his exterior remained firm, sober. “You always felt it. You just pretended not to.”

Morgana looked away for a moment, still trying to catch her breath. She laughed, tiredly. “Does that make me more honest… or just more of an idiot?”

“It depends.” He moved closer again, but this time not to touch her. Just to stand there. Present. “What are you going to do with that now?”

She looked at him, her face still slightly flushed. “Maybe… breathe first.” She said between short laughs, trying to adjust the strap of her lingerie with slight embarrassment.

Vergil crossed his arms and smiled. “Good choice.”