Private Tutoring for the Duke’s First Night - Chapter 4

When she closed her eyes, beyond her eyelids she saw a young man with tears brimming in his eyes.

In Julia’s imagination, Edgar remained just as he had been in childhood, a handsome youth with black hair falling over his forehead, rose-tinted cheeks, and innocent eyes. The reddened rims of his eyes added to his boyish air.

‘You’re saying my private tutor is you, Sister Julia?’

The imagined Edgar said the very words Julia feared most. Hearing them, Julia felt her breath catch. If Edgar were to say such a thing, how should she respond.

‘I will do my utmost to become a good tutor, Duke of Drexton.’

She would have to say that, holding back her urge to flee the spot.

The slender young man, supple like a willow, looked at Julia with wounded eyes. Julia couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze. Their clasped hands trembled violently.

‘I never imagined you’d be such a lewd woman, spreading your legs for another man without even taking off your mourning clothes.’

Edgar seemed as though he would reproach Julia. And then what would come next.

‘You’re filthy and vulgar.’

Would he say that in a contemptuous tone. It was only imagination, yet Julia felt ashamed. But it was a kind of shame slightly different from the ordinary. It was a shame that sharpened every sensation in her body.

Her own breath, the feel of the fabric…

Even the rough touch of Edgar’s hands, which didn’t even truly exist, was vividly felt. Julia’s knees spread wide.

‘I’ll receive that fine instruction of yours.’

The mocking tone left Julia miserable. But what was even more miserable was the fact that slick dew had begun to form between her tightly closed entrance.

Ah, I don’t want to show this.

Julia furrowed her brow and bit her lip. Still, she couldn’t close her legs. She was a private tutor hired to provide s****l education to Duke Drexton. Her body itself was the textbook.

The boy and girl days when they played making flower crowns in the garden were gone. What she would have to do when she met Edgar was filthy, sordid instruction.

The liquid that had gathered in droplets suddenly spilled out and streamed down. The more Julia thought she wanted to go numb, the more sensitive her body became. It felt as if a pulse were throbbing in her lower abdomen, and the tips of her b*****s stiffened.

Julia’s eyes filled with tears. She didn’t want to be touched, yet at the same time, part of her wanted to be so thoroughly ravaged that she couldn’t think of anything at all. But she knew that wouldn’t be easy either.

She forced herself to think of her husband.

Though she had been married for over a decade, Julia had never once felt pleasure in her relations with her husband. Most of the time, her husband, huffing and puffing as he rubbed his belly and pumped between her legs, even felt repulsive.

Women who moaned and writhed with a man’s thing lodged between their thighs existed, as far as Julia knew, only in obscene books that the maids secretly looked at. The idea that a woman would come to know pleasure the more she engaged in relations wasn’t a story that applied to Julia, at least.

Then, in her recollection, her husband suddenly turned into Edgar.

‘Sister.’

Something heavy, clearly, was felt as it parted Julia’s lower body and pushed inside. It probed deeply and gently, taming her insides several times over.

‘Are you pleased?’

She heard the young man’s low voice by her ear.

Julia sucked in a sharp breath.

All of this was nothing more than imagination. But it was as stimulating as a nightmare, and as tempting as a taboo.

That was why it felt all the more vivid. Perhaps because it was a relationship that existed only in her mind, and because the other party was that very child who remained only as a memory of youth, the sensations felt this clear.

Her stiffened n*****s begged for caressing. Julia let out a moan and raised her hand. Trembling, she touched near her areola. A sweet sigh spilled out on its own.

—It was just as she was about to pleasure herself.

“We’ve arrived, Missus Devel.”

A hoarse voice interrupted her.

Julia startled and dropped her hand. When she hurriedly checked, the dress covering her legs was neat without the slightest disorder. But her chest, hard to notice unless one looked closely, was clearly lifting impudently beneath the fabric.

“Yes, I’ll get out.”

Only then did Julia clearly realize what kind of tangible change her imagination had brought to her body.

‘Ah, you must’ve lost your senses, Julia! No matter what, it’s only been a few days since you lost your husband!’

Her hair bristled. Blushing deeply, Julia hurried out of the carriage. But the moment she stood up, she vividly felt warm liquid soaking her undergarments.

Julia squeezed her eyes shut.