Duke, Please Stop Because it Hurts

Chapter 3



Chapter 3

At his words, Molitia burst into inadvertent laughter. She had thought that she was the only one who preferred being alone on a dark terrace to being in a gorgeous banqueting hall. However, someone with the same feelings appeared suddenly. With that alone, Molitia could briefly forget how boring it was here.

Maybe that’s why. She didn’t know what happened in her brain. Maybe the music behind them excited her, or perhaps the rebellion that she had never shown to her father finally came out. Molitia turned to the man in front of her and asked something she never thought she would say.

“Would you like to sleep with me?”

“What . . .?” The man’s eyes widened with surprise at her sudden question. “Did you drink too much?”

“I didn’t even take a sip of alcohol,” said Molitia, shaking her head. As someone who often got sick even when she ate only the best things, drinking was forbidden. Her face was slightly flushed from the cold, but she was fine.

“Do you know what your words mean?” asked the man.

“I know,” Molitia replied.

If you excluded her frozen fingertips from being outside in the cold, her body was in better condition than usual. Her innocent eyes gazed at him.

“Don’t you like my offer?” Molitia asked.

“Ha!” said the man, and clicked his tongue. The casual tone of her voice puzzled him, and his confused glance swept over Molitia.

“Do you know who I am?” he asked.

“You’re at this banquet, so your status is obvious,” said Molitia.

“Did you just say it thoughtlessly because you don’t know anyone?” the man asked. It was clear to him that she didn’t know what she was saying. He laughed and held her waist. His eyes were clearly mocking Molitia. “You don’t regret what you said, do you?”

“Of course not,” replied Molitia.

The moment she spoke, her dry lips felt his warm breath. He sealed her soft lips with his, then skilfully teased her with his tongue. His tongue moved actively in her mouth, taking her breath away. Every time his tongue roughly swept her mouth, she made a  small, painful sound.

His lips, that had briefly matched hers, moved away. When he saw her smudged lipstick, mixed with saliva, he laughed.

“How do you feel about it now?” the man asked.

His heart moved as he looked at her small, heaving shoulders. The good feelings from when they kissed lingered in his mind, but he wasn’t the type to get emotional. He wouldn’t be fooled by such tricks. He waited for her panting to calm down.

“Yes, it’s still okay,” said Molitia.

“What?”

The unexpected answer embarrassed him. Obviously, he’d only thought that she was an ignorant lady who had grown up in a greenhouse. Her innocent eyes were enough to make her look like a virgin, so he’d thought that the kiss would be enough to scare her. He frowned. He didn’t know what to do.

“Let’s stop. I don’t know what you’re thinking, but it’s better not to give yourself away,” said the man.

There was nothing more to consider. The man turned around without hiding the displeasure in his face. As he moved away, he felt a weak tug on the hem of his clothes. When he turned, he saw a determined-looking woman. He didn’t understand what she was thinking, but she seemed a little more desperate than she had before.

“It’s not like that. I am thinking straight,” said Molitia, and sighed lightly. Her delicate fingers trembled, “I’m getting married next week.”

The words made him raise his eyebrows, as if asking what she meant.

“It’s a marriage that my parents decided unilaterally. I’ve never even seen the face of my husband,” said Molitia. Most nobles have arranged marriages, but very few marry without seeing their marriage partner first. Her sorrowful expression moved him to pity. He had cut off his desire after a short kiss, but in fact, after a brief taste, his passion for her was on the rise.

‘I’ve never done this before,’ she said.

He turned and looked at her. He hadn’t meant to continue, but her words had changed his mind. She wasn’t bad for a short fling. He leaned against the railing with a face full of interest.

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