I Never Wanted His Child - Chapter 158
‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.
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Her body had already reached its limit, yet Emilia’s trembling continued, a lingering aftershock that wouldn’t subside. Mikhail placed gentle kisses on her damp forehead, over and over again.
His length, still buried deep inside her, pulsed faintly, as though determined not to retreat. It was as if he intended to push every drop of himself further into her, filling her entirely. He held her tightly, almost crushing her against him.
She could sense it. He wasn’t finished yet. Perhaps he wouldn’t stop until he’d poured everything inside her, so much that even the precautions she’d taken would feel futile.
“…Just keep going. You’re not done yet, are you? If you’re going to do it, then hurry and finish it… ahhh.”
Her body was already drenched, and they’d been tangled together countless times. If this was going to continue, she’d rather it end here than to get inside and do it again until morning.
Out in the open, where the rain could wash away their sweat and the lewd scent of their passion.
So Emilia wanted to finish what she was doing with him here. His p–is, which was still inside, did not die and throbbed as if to respond to her words.
She swallowed a frightened scream inside, but spoke to him in a nonchalant manner.
“Ha, yeah. Do it more. It’s good.”
She wasn’t lying. The pleasure of being with him wasn’t something she hated. And just as her words left her lips, his still-hard length twitched inside her, responding instinctively to her invitation.
In some twisted way, it felt safer here. The pouring rain would drown out her voice, making this secluded spot better than the mansion, where no soundproof walls could truly keep secrets from the maids or guards patrolling the corridors at night.
Most of all, Emilia found comfort in how the rain masked the tears streaming down her face.
“You…haa.”
Mikhail’s expression was not visible as his body was turned. However, his voice as he buried his face on her back and exhaled deeply was trembling.
❖ ❖ ❖
Mikhail briefly gazed at Emilia, who was soundly asleep.
After covering her wet body with his jacket, he carried her inside the mansion and immediately placed her in a warm bath. With careful hands, Mikhail gently cleaned her body and then laid her down on the bed.
He disinfected her open wounds, wrapped them with bandages, and silently observed her peaceful slumber.
“She’s sleeping so well in this situation.”
Mikhail muttered as he sat on the edge of the bed and brushed her hair.
Soon, the council would convene. And that day, Emilia would go to the Loren family. He knew it.
When that happened, she would learn the truth.
Everything was unfolding exactly as he had planned. So it seemed right to leave things as they were.
Yet, strangely, his mind felt tangled. The more he held Emilia, the more the desire within him grew.
Hatred seemed to blur, replaced by something else.
Emilia’s sweet voice calling his name was vivid in his mind.
Mikhail lingered by her side for a long while, not wanting to leave.
❖ ❖ ❖
Emilia woke up around lunchtime on the day the council was to convene, quickly preparing to go to the Loren family. It was Dell’s fault for waking her late, as Mikhail had likely instructed her to let her sleep in.
Thanks to the good rest, she didn’t feel any aches. The memories of their time together in the garden while drenched in the rain were still vivid in her mind.
Trying to shake off the thoughts, Emilia focused on getting ready for her outing. But because she woke up so late, it wasn’t until almost 3 p.m. that she finished her preparations.
Boestin, with a bright, eager expression, climbed into the carriage. Sitting across from Emilia, Boestin expressed her excitement without holding back.
“I’m looking forward to the rose from the Loren family. I bet it will be as red as blood, just like Madam, right?”
“It’s been damaged, but it will still be beautiful.”
“Why would they cut the flowers? What a group of people with no sense of romance.”
Boestin shouted from the carriage, clearly annoyed.
“If it’s Mikhail, he’s more than capable of doing something like that. That’s why the Duke’s garden looks the way it does. I’m not criticizing you, Madam. It’s clearly Mikhail’s aesthetic sense at work.”
“You’re right, Miss Boestin. I’ve been thinking about planting flowers myself. Maybe that would even change His Grace a little.”
“Perhaps. You know, they say when your heart is troubled, plant flowers.”
Boestin clasped her hands together and recited, almost like a poem.
“When you want to love, plant flowers. Seeing a small seed take root in barren soil and sprout leaves will fill you with courage.”
She turned her head to the side again and stretched her hand out into the air.
“When you want to love, plant flowers. The patience you’ve cultivated in nurturing the flowers through the changing seasons will grow within you as well.”
Boestin’s eyes sparkled as she reached both hands out, pointing at Emilia.
“When you want to love, give flowers. The flower blooming at your fingertips will be full of sincerity and love.”
“It feels like we’re watching a play.”
“The women of Valoh are still lost in romance,” Boestin shrugged.
“So maybe even that stiff man would soften if he planted some flowers. Don’t you think?”
“I think you’re right, Miss Boestin.”
Emilia smiled and nodded. Although she couldn’t imagine Mikhail planting flowers or holding a bouquet, the thought had a certain charm to it.
But he likely had no desire to love her, so he would never plant flowers in the Duke’s garden.
