Vol 3 Chapter 44 – Torte Can’t Hold Back Anymore♡【Vol 3: Torte the Dog-Eared Girl Ar】

“Pardon the intrusion…♡”

A voice low and honeyed—the kind that sent a shiver down your spine.

The next instant, a warm weight settled against my legs as I sat in the chair.

“W-Wait, not here, there’s no reason it has to be—!”

She wasn’t listening.

Torte wrapped herself around my thighs and pressed her soft cheek against them without a hint of hesitation.

“Mmh…♡ nuzzle nuzzle…♡”

“Wah—!”

An undignified sound escaped me before I could stop it.

Her body heat and the softness of her cheek came through even through my trousers.

The sensation was equal parts ticklish and devastatingly sweet—something about it tugged at a place deeper than I expected.

“Fuu…♡ Mmh, haah…♡”

The affectionate assault kept coming in waves.

Like a puppy nuzzling up to its owner, she buried her face against my leg and breathed in deeply, persistently.

“H-How is it, Master…? When Torte does this, she can smell so much of Master’s scent… it calms her down.”

“T-Torte, it really doesn’t have to be here—!”

“Mmh…♡ I’m sorry… but Torte can’t hold back anymore…♡ She just wants to be close to Master so badly, she can’t stand it…♡”

Even as she said it, she pressed herself tighter against me.

The sound of her soft breathing and the rustle of fabric filled the quiet morning dining room.

—This is bad. This is really bad!

First thing in the morning, doing something this scandalous—

Wait. Actually—Torte and I had an arrangement to work on her curse during the daytime, so being together wasn’t the problem, was it?

…No. It absolutely was.

The fact that she had specifically crawled under the dining table and was currently tangled around my legs was catastrophically bad. If Eclair walked in and saw this, I didn’t want to think about what she’d say—

Just as that thought crossed my mind, footsteps came pattering down the hallway.

“—!”

My heart went cold.

The footsteps, obviously, belonged to Eclair.

“T-Torte! Eclair’s up, let go—!”

I grabbed Torte’s shoulders and tried to peel her off in a panic.

But the dog-eared maid girl held on with surprising, unyielding strength, pressing herself harder against my leg rather than budging. The message was clear: I’m not letting go.

And that stubborn little motion sent yet another wave of sensation through me—but that wasn’t the point right now!

“Mmm~… morning, Theo.”

Click. The door swung open.

(It’s over…!)

The cat-eared girl, barely awake, surveyed the room through half-lidded eyes. Any moment now, she’d fix me with a withering stare of absolute contempt—

But instead, she blinked slowly around the room and tilted her head in sleepy confusion.

“Hm? Where’s Torte? Still asleep?”

“…Huh?”

Couldn’t she see Torte?

I carefully angled my gaze downward—and found that Torte had somehow, at some point, slipped fully into the shadow beneath the table.

Her small frame was nestled perfectly in the blind spot from where Eclair stood at the entrance.

“Oh, uh, yeah… she’s probably still in bed.”

—Why did I lie just now?!

That made me an accomplice. An active, willing accomplice.

Eclair murmured, “Ah, I see,” and let out a completely uninhibited yawn.

She had absolutely no idea that Torte was right there—hiding under the table directly in front of her.

I exhaled in quiet relief.

And in that exact moment—

A surge of warm sensation wrapped around me from under the table.

“Mmh…♡”

“Hyah—?!“

A reflex I had no control over. A completely undignified squeak escaped my lips.

Eclair’s cat ears twitched sharply.

“Huh? W-What was that?”

“It’s—nothing! Just, uh, my stomach hurts a little this morning—”

“Are you okay?!”

“It’s a mild one! Don’t worry about it!”

Eclair stared at me with unmistakable suspicion.

The thought of her eyes drifting down toward my feet made my heart rate spike.

Meanwhile, the sliver of Torte’s face just visible past the edge of the table was the picture of total, absorbed dedication.

Not mischief—genuine, unfiltered need. She was burying her face against my thigh with the single-minded focus of someone who simply had to have more of her master’s presence and had run out of reasons to resist.

Her fluffy dog ears grazed the inside of my thigh with a maddeningly ticklish softness.

(But—not in front of Eclair—!)

The ticklish warmth of being adored and the white-knuckled terror of being caught.

Two impossible sensations, pressing in on me from both sides.