When a Well-Raised Son Grows Up - Chapter 22

Chapter 22

For a moment, he thought she was trying to wake up.

“Hmph…….”

With her lips curled in slumber, Abella drifted off to sleep as she always did.

Carlisle’s sharp ears perked up, and he stuck his tongue out to find her clit buried in the flesh once again after realizing she had ceased moving.

He nibbled at the swollen clit, moving his lips in different directions while biting lightly to prevent pain.

Carlisle persisted, realizing that the herb held more potency than he initially thought, especially as Abella’s body trembled and shuddered.

He kept taunting and tormenting the tender flesh until he could take it no more. He bit on it with his lips before s*ckling it into his mouth with a playful breath.

As if that wasn’t enough, he probed her pulsating cunt with his tongue. He skillfully licked her inner walls with the tip of his tongue, causing the flesh to twirl in an untidy jumble.

And to rub his c*ck against Abella’s p*ssy was the day’s final act.

Carlisle pulled his c*ck and slipped it between the precisely closed flesh, his familiarity apparent.

The ugly-looking bumpy shaft wedged itself forcefully between Abella’s tender labia. Carlisle was soon massaging his c*ck and moving his hips with the same ferocity as the previous evening. The black weapon ripped and crushed her cunt’s soft flesh.

Her adorable small br**sts, which fit perfectly in one palm, bounced against the recoil with every thrust of his hips. The soft slip jiggled, and the n*ppl*s poked through the pure white fabric.

Carlisle reached out and gently pinched the n*pples exposed through the fabric, then began to push his c*ck into her p*ssy.

“Yum…….”

The white fluids gushed between Abella’s legs. For a long while, his c*ck throbbed, and when he was finished, he laboriously, bit by little, pushed his finger into her hole, just like he had yesterday.

Carlisle stuck his hand in and then out of her, but she took it well and wriggled.

Carlisle grinned happily at what he saw.

After finishing, he took her in his arms and caressed her cheeks with naive eyes. He appeared so innocent and harmless with his lazily drawn face and waving tail.

Carlisle got dressed and stayed near her as the night went on.

Thus, the evening continued, and Abella remained unaware of his actions.

* * *

In the morning, before the sun had risen, it was Carlisle who awoke first, not Abella.

Maybe because he had filled her with his c*ck the previous night, Carlisle’s face was radiant. He appeared to be in a better mood than usual.

Shaking his slicked-back hair from side to side, clearing it from his eyes, he stretched. Although there was still a slight limp in his left leg, it wasn’t too conspicuous.

Upon rising, Carlisle hurriedly attended to various tasks. There was much to be accomplished before Abella woke up.

* * *

The initial action Carlisle took upon getting up was heading for the mountains, transformed into his wolf form rather than his human one.

Towering above the stature of a full-grown man, he skillfully traversed the mountainous terrain. Clenched in his mouth was a wooden basket containing basic bundles of clothing.

The massive wolf’s paws made a crunching sound as they moved over the leaf-strewn trail, imprinting crisp paw prints in the dirt with each step. Carlisle, accustomed to the discomfort of one leg, paid it no mind, having lived with it his entire life.

A brisk autumn morning breeze stirred through the trees, producing a muted rustling. The distant chirping of a grasshopper and the cries of a mother bird busily feeding her chicks in the nest added to the natural symphony.

The yellow and ruddy autumnal mountain scenery presented a stark contrast to the summer when he and Abella first crossed paths.

“Croak…….”

Carlisle cleared his throat and pressed on at a brisk pace through the heart of Mount Ryle.

Slowing to a trot as he neared his destination, he eventually came to a complete stop at a small pond. He ducked behind a large boulder nearby, with his ears perked up.

His black nose twitched back and forth like a kidney bean as he sniffed the surroundings. His flattened body seemed to conceal his intentions.

Unlike the usual wagging at Abella’s side, his tail remained silent today.

His blood-red eyes flashed like those of a fierce beast. Naturally, he was a formidable creature, but in Abella’s presence, he concealed them, resembling a gentle dog.

After a short while, small animals that had ventured out to drink in the early morning hours started to appear.

Rabbits, squirrels, cats, and more—Carlisle observed the variety of creatures with bated breath, remaining motionless.

Then, a fully grown deer emerged.

In the blink of an eye, Carlisle sprang into action, seizing it by the scruff of the neck.

A stallion-like scream reverberated through the mountains, and the small animals that had gathered nearby to drink hastily sought refuge at the sudden appearance of the beast.

The moment Carlisle’s fangs pierced the deer’s neck, it had no time to struggle.

“Ugh…….”

Carlisle sneezed once at the thick scent of blood, then casually bit into the flesh.

It certainly didn’t taste like the butcher’s meat Abella was accustomed to buying.

‘Delicious……’

Feeling satisfied with his successful hunt, Carlisle focused on the deer, his tail wagging gently from side to side.

It was still time for Abella to sleep, unaware of the world.

Carlisle indulged in a hearty meal until he was full, then lazily stood up.

Front paw forward, hind paw back, he trotted slowly in that order.

Brushing his fur once, he licked the corners of his mouth at the nearby pond and descended the mountain with a light, steady step.

If he aimed to be prepared for breakfast before Abella woke up, he knew he had to move quickly.

“Uh…?”

Carlisle, in a rush down the mountain, spotted something and came to a sudden halt.

“It’s a plum…!”

Having witnessed Abella picking them in the mountains before, claiming they were her favorite fruit, Carlisle’s eyes lit up at the sight of the plum.

He promptly shifted into his human form, pulling his clothes from the basket in his mouth and quickly getting dressed.

“Mommy’s favorite….”

Carlisle smiled sheepishly as he gathered a bunch of plums to place in the wooden basket he carried.

Unlike apples, he had heard that plums were quite expensive.

He recalled Abella explaining that she couldn’t afford to buy them at the market but would pick them whenever she found them in the mountains.

With a beautiful plum in hand, Carlisle’s face lit up.

On the way home, she encountered more plums, along with chestnuts and acorns.

Carlisle had diligently gathered the fruits of the trees, but in the process, he unintentionally collected a conspicuous bunch of Nephra herbs.

Then, as he picked up a chestnut, he noticed a small squirrel. In its grasp, it held a plum that, for some reason, appeared to be more coveted than the others he had picked.

Their eyes locked, and the squirrel turned to stone, Carlisle maintaining a steady gaze without looking away.

‘Ripe plums…… Mama’s favorite.’

The squirrel instinctively sensed that Carlisle was not human, and it went beyond that: it recognized him as the wolf that had been frequenting the pond every morning, drying deer meat, with the discernment of a shrewd herbivore.

A squirrel the size of a pea hurriedly scuttled away, plums in hand. Its brown fur fluttered like an aspen tree in the breeze.

Despite the need to escape, its legs appeared to lack the strength to move, paralyzed by fear in the presence of the wolf before it.

The plum in the squirrel’s hand was ripe and glistening with a reddish-brown sheen, while Carlisle’s plum remained green.

Upon recognizing him, Carlisle promptly bared his fangs and issued a threat.

“Crouch……”

The squirrel emitted a short, piercing scream, relinquishing the plum.

Carlisle barked once, conveying a clear “Get lost” message, and the frightened squirrel hastily scrambled up a tree, making a swift escape.

With a flick of its tail, signaling for help, the squirrel was soon out of Carlisle’s sight.

Carlisle smiled with satisfaction and retrieved the plum that the squirrel had dropped.

Moments ago, he had been ready to pounce on the squirrel, but now he appeared as innocent and gentle as ever.

“Mom’s gonna love this.”

By now, Carlisle’s wooden basket was brimming with plums and other autumn berries.

He planned to wash the plums he had acquired, including those “rescued” from the squirrel, and give them to Abella as soon as he got home.

Carlisle’s steps were lighter than ever.