Merika might not have been some pure, virtuous girl, but she certainly wasn't a slut. Before long, she was defeated by Solam's beast-like stamina. By the time Solam, his clothes disheveled, arrived at the room Digla had once occupied, Philip had already thoroughly searched every inch of it.
Philip was rather curious to see Solam come in so quickly.
"You... finished that fast?" His expression seemed both pitying and teasing—the kind of look someone wore when they wanted to laugh but were forcing themselves not to.
"What the hell are you thinking? I'm famously fierce! That girl just had terrible stamina. I wasn't even satisfied before she started begging for mercy. She's asleep now, so why else would I come over here?"
No man liked being looked down on like that, and Solam naturally couldn't stand it. He hurriedly explained himself; being mocked by Philip over that sort of thing would have been far too humiliating.
Who would have thought that, after hearing Solam out, Philip would say with a look of disdain, "Hmph! No sense of romance. People like you are the ones who ruin women the most. You only care about getting yourself off, treating women as tools to vent your lust. How tasteless. Women are meant to be savored slowly and cherished gently. Barbarians like you, who charge in like raging bulls and start pounding away, are loveless savages!"
When it came to women, Philip had never thought it was as simple as just getting into bed with them. He had always believed that feelings were the foundation of what happened in bed. People who only cared about themselves were brutes; only savoring things slowly and taking things step by step was the proper way. Simply put, Philip was the sort who won a woman's heart before