To My First Love, With Regret - 30

—Ha, for a lady, you’re so utterly lewd…..

He was nearly driven mad when he saw the pink flesh, wet and swollen from her own excitement while she played with him. Eve could see that the blood was visibly rushing back to his center, which had been slowly losing its firmness.

—Tell me if it hurts.

Ethan pressed the brush between Eve’s legs. Eve inhaled deeply. The moment the brush tip, soaked in semen, touched her exposed clitoris, her breath instinctively caught.

—It didn’t hurt me…

—Agh! Ah, wait…

—You just felt like you were going to die from ticklishness.

Ethan was right. But it was a stimulation that «ticklish» couldn’t fully express.

A bundle of fur, soft as a feather, completely covered the erogenous zone—which became excited at the slightest brush of air—and rubbed it in circular motions. She had awakened to yet another world of pleasure. This was a pleasure that could only be described as delicately scratching every single nerve fiber gathered in the protuberance. As he churned her clitoris, her mind felt like it was being chaotically stirred.

Eve, who was clutching her skirt hem and trembling violently, only managed to gasp when the brush lifted away.

The brush tip moved past the clitoris, which was pulsing and on the brink of climax, and traced down between the labia. Her breath trembled, perhaps due to that stimulation or because she knew Ethan’s next target.

Finally, the brush reached its destination, outlining the vaginal opening in a circle. By this point, there was no white paint left to spread.

Ethan squeezed and pushed up his penis, extracting the cloudy white fluid that was still trapped inside. He held the heavily-semen-soaked brush conspicuously between her pale thighs and asked:

—Do you know how flowers that are divided into male and female, like humans, get pollinated?

Realizing his intention, Eve wet her parched lips and answered:

—…With a brush?

—Correct, Lady Evelyn.

—Ah, hnnng!

—Because you are a flower.

It was a romantic thing to say—if she hadn’t known what kind of perverted act he was performing right now.

—Mmm, hah-nnnng……..

The delicate pleasure deepened. It felt good, but the better it felt, the more it deepened her craving rather than satisfying her desire, leaving her throat parched. She couldn’t stand it. Ethan bent his head toward the woman, who was wiggling her legs and thrusting her lower body.

Smack, slurp. The sound of suckling flesh mixed with her panting breaths. He sucked the clitoris long, as if it were a doorknob to open the gate of her womb. In that instant—

—Ahh-huk!

Eve let out a scream and climaxed, as if a needle had pierced an over-inflated balloon. When the brush was removed, a clear ‘paint’ stretched long from the pink canvas. Clatter. The fallen brush rolled across the floor, drawing a wet line.

So, would a fruit be borne?

Ethan’s portrait was not completed today, either. Because the painter also stripped off all her clothes and became entangled with the nude model.

Drunk on a languid afterglow that wine couldn’t even approach, Ethan stroked the lower abdomen of the woman lying draped over him on the long chair and moved his lips, buried in her fragrant hair.

—Who will they look like?

Just imagining it made him feel excited, but it also placed a heavy sense of responsibility on his shoulders.

—I want to hold our child soon, but… we’ll have to postpone you going to university, won’t we?

They had to have a child to prevent the Duke from nullifying this marriage, no matter what scheme he used. While a child was Eve’s card to seize the family, it was Ethan’s protective barrier against losing Eve.

Therefore, the option of not having a child did not exist. He only felt sorry for Eve, who had to temporarily give up university because of this.

—University isn’t really important.

For Eve, university was merely a symbol.

—I just wanted the freedom to live as I wished.

—I can protect that for you.

—I’m already free.

Within Ethan’s love, Eve believed without a doubt that this freedom would last.

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The dreamlike month passed like a midsummer shower that pours down without giving you time to get thoroughly soaked, then ceases like a lie.

Eve ultimately failed to keep her promise to paint Ethan’s portrait.

It’s okay. We’ll have plenty of time later.

But she wouldn’t be able to keep Ethan sitting as a model all day. University was starting soon.

It was time to end the dreamlike honeymoon and return to reality. The two left their small paradise in Montfleur and headed back to their homeland.

A mountain of tasks awaited them as soon as they arrived. They were husband and wife in Lavinia, but not in Mercia. They had to take the marriage certificate received from the priest in Montfleur to the registry office to have it legally recognized.

They would also need to find a house to live in together, not far from Kingsbridge. And before that, they needed a place to stay.

First, the moment she stepped on Mercian soil, she intended to contact Becky. Since Tom would be going back to the military academy, Becky would be alone, so it might be a good idea for Eve to go to the Aides Islands and stay with her.

Will I be a bit pregnant when Ethan comes to pick me up?

It was impossible to know. She was only suspicious because her period, which was due two weeks ago, still hadn’t arrived.

To know for sure if she was pregnant, she would have to miss her period for one more month and wait for her belly to swell. She hadn’t breathed a word to Ethan yet, not wanting to raise his hopes only to disappoint him.

Standing on the deck of the passenger ship now, the pounding in her chest wasn’t because of the potential life nestled inside her. Her homeland was coming into sight. The reality she had abandoned and fled was closing in.

—Ethan, what if Father catches me and locks me up……

The man standing beside her squeezed Eve’s hand tightly. Ethan knew well that a hopeful statement like that wouldn’t happen would be no comfort.

—I’ll find you no matter what it takes. Wait for me.

To prevent that from happening, they chose a distant port of entry, not Cliffhaven or anywhere nearby. Even the Duke Kentrell couldn’t possibly have people planted at every port in the country.

But had Eve’s calculation been wrong?

They were caught at the immigration checkpoint. Not Eve, but Ethan.

The inspector looked back and forth between his face, his passport, and a poster plastered on the booth wall, then called the police guarding the entrance hall.

—What’s the problem?

—Stay still!

Police officers swarmed them, grabbing Ethan on both sides and attempting to handcuff his hands. These weren’t her father’s men coming to snatch her. Arrest? Eve went white at the unexpected treatment as a criminal.

—You people are mistaken!

She thought her father had filed a false report, claiming Ethan had kidnapped Eve, ready to risk the scandal and being the laughingstock of the world. That was until the police officer read out the charges while applying the handcuffs.

—Ethan Fairchild, you are under arrest on suspicion of the murder of Baron Langdon, Henry Sherwood Jr.

Harry… is dead?

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—I told you I didn’t kill him!»

The police station was so noisy with the clatter of typewriters and telephones that one could barely distinguish their own voice, but Eve clearly heard Ethan’s desperate shout of innocence.

But she couldn’t see him. Because Ethan was currently locked in a holding cell. The lobby, chaotic with civilians and police officers coming and going, was as confused as Eve’s own mind.

Is Harry really dead? When? How?

Good fortune came wearing the mask of disaster.

But why is Ethan the killer?

Surely…

—Because Harry is still alive.

—’Still’ is the operative word.

Ah, it can’t be.

She was anxiously biting her lip when the officer who had taken Ethan to the holding cell reappeared. Eve immediately approached him.

—Officer, why in the world is Ethan Fairchild suspected of murdering Baron Langdon?

The man, who looked to be in his mid-thirties, stared at Eve and instead asked:

—And what is your relationship with the suspect, miss?

I’m his wife. By Mercian law, not yet.

I’m his lover. They wouldn’t believe anything Eve said if they thought she was a woman driven mad by love.

—I am the victim’s sister.

The police officer gave an intrigued expression. What was so interesting? That the woman in front of him was the Duke Kentrell’s daughter?

She hoped that the fact that a victim’s sister was defending the person who allegedly killed her brother would attract more attention. They might believe her if she didn’t say she was related to the victim.

—There must be a misunderstanding. Harry was alive when we left.

The officer took off his cap and scratched his head.

—The investigation is not under our jurisdiction, so there’s no point in telling me….»

—Then please answer just this. When, where, and how exactly was Baron Langdon murdered?»

—You haven’t seen the newspapers, oh! You just arrived from abroad… You should hear about that at the Cliffhaven station. He’ll be transferred there soon anyway.»

A little while later, claiming they had instructions from the Cliffhaven station, they put Eve into the police transport vehicle as well. At least they didn’t handcuff her, so she wasn’t a suspect.