Villains Aren't Stepping Stones!
Chapter 222: Farewell Gift(18+)
"Don’t worry, I’ve got you."
Haoran’s words hung in the cool night air, warm against her skin as he kept his hand cupping her breast, his thumb circling the tight peak with a slow, deliberate rhythm that drew a soft, shuddering sigh from her lips.
Her body was responding despite her nerves—her hips shifted, a subtle, unconscious roll that pressed her mound against his thigh through the fabric of his trousers.
She gasped at the contact, her eyes flying wide, then fluttering shut as a wave of heat surged through her belly.
He didn’t rush, he just let her feel the sensation, let her body acclimate to the newness of it.
His other hand slid down her spine, tracing the delicate ridge of each vertebra, until his palm rested on the small of her back.
He pulled her gently closer, so that her bare breasts pressed against his shirt, the fabric a thin barrier between her heated skin and his chest.
Through the cloth, she could feel the firmness of his muscles, the steady thrum of his heartbeat.
"So...do you want to continue?" he asked, his lips brushing her ear.
She swallowed, her throat bobbing, while her fingers, still clutching his arm, suddenly tightened.
After a long, trembling breath, she nodded, a tiny, jerky movement.
He lowered his head, his lips pressing a trail of soft, open-mouthed kisses down her neck, over the curve of her collarbone, until he reached the swell of her left breast.
He hovered there, his breath warm and uneven against her skin, and then he took her nipple into his mouth.
She bucked against him, a sharp, breathy cry escaping her lips as her hands flew to his hair, fingers threading through the short strands, holding him there.
His tongue circled the tight bud, then flicked across it, tasting the faint saltiness of her skin.
He sucked gently, drawing the nipple deeper into his mouth, and she moaned—a low, guttural sound that seemed to surprise even her.
His hand, still on her lower back, slid down to cup her ass.
The flesh was firm and warm, and he squeezed gently, kneading the cheek as his mouth continued its work on her breast.
He switched to the other one, giving it the same attention, his tongue and lips worshipping every inch of the sensitive flesh.
Her hips were rocking now, a slow, unconscious grind against his leg, and he could feel the slick heat of her pussy against the fabric of his trousers.
He pulled back, breath heavy, and looked at her, her eyes were half-lidded, her lips parted, slick and swollen from their kisses.
A fine sheen of sweat glistened on her chest and belly, and at this moment she looked so beautiful, so vulnerable, so eager, and so utterly undone.
"Lie down," he murmured, gesturing to the bench inside the kiosk.
It was narrow and wooden, but clean enough, and without waiting for a response, he took her hand and guided her, and she followed without hesitation, her legs feeling like they might give way.
She lowered herself onto the bench, the wood cool against her heated skin as she lay back, her arms resting above her head, her legs slightly parted.
The pose was instinctive, as if she was offering herself.
Her breasts rose and fell with quick, shallow breaths, and her pussy was exposed to him—soft curls damp with dew, the delicate folds pink and glistening in the dim light.
Haoran paused, drinking in the sight as his hands went to his sash, untying it with slow, deliberate movements.
Then, he shrugged off his robe, revealing a lean, toned torso, the muscles defined but not bulky as his cock strained against his pants, a visible bulge that made her breath catch.
He knelt between her legs, his hands resting on her inner thighs, thumbs stroking the sensitive skin just inches from her cunt.
He leaned down, pressing a kiss to her belly, then lower, his lips trailing down the soft curve of her lower stomach.
She flinched when his breath ghosted over her mound, her hips lifting instinctively.
"Shh," he soothed, his voice a low rumble. "Don’t worry. Leave it all to me."
He parted her folds with his thumbs, exposing her clit—a small, pink pearl, already swollen and slick.
He lowered his head and licked her, a long, slow stroke from the bottom of her slit to the top, circling her clit at the end.
"Ah~!" She cried out, her back arching off the bench, her hands flying to his head as her taste flooded his senses.
She was sweet, musky, and intoxicating.
He lapped at her, alternating between broad, flat strokes of his tongue and focused, pinpoint flicks against her clit.
Her hips began to buck against his mouth, a desperate, grinding motion as her moans grew louder, more ragged, echoing in the quiet night.
She was close, and he could feel it in the way her inner walls fluttered, in the way her thighs began to tremble around his head.
"Let go," he murmured against her wet flesh, his voice vibrating through her. "Come. Let yourself loose."
His words were a low, deep command, and her body obeyed without permission.
A beat later, a sharp, shuddering cry tore from her throat as her orgasm crashed through her—a wave of burning hot pleasure that seized her muscles and made her buck hard against his mouth.
Her juices flowed freely, and he drank them, his tongue lapping and swirling, drawing out every last tremor until she collapsed onto the bench, panting, her chest heaving.
He lifted his head, his chin slick with her wetness as a dark, possessive gleam shone in his eyes as he looked at her, utterly ruined and beautiful beneath him.
He rose, positioning himself over her, his cock free now.
She stared at it and shuddered, it was thick, rigid, and the head was a deep, angry red.
He stroked himself once, spreading the bead of pre-cum that had formed at the tip, then lowered himself, the head of his cock pressing against her still-quivering entrance.
Her eyes snapped open, wide and anxious. "I... I’ve never..."
"I know," he whispered, leaning down to kiss her forehead, her eyelids, the tip of her nose. "I’ll be gentle. But tell me if it’s too much. I’m not so much of a sex fiend to only care about my own pleasure."
He pushed forward.
The sensation was overwhelming as her tight, virgin walls clenched around the head of his cock, a ring of resistant muscle that made him groan.
He paused, letting her adjust, his forehead pressed to hers as her breath was hot and ragged against his lips.
"Breathe," he coaxed, his hips unmoving. "Let your body relax. There’s no rush."
She took a shaky breath, then another. Her hands clutched his shoulders, nails digging into his skin, and slowly, the tension in her walls eased, and she nodded, a tiny, fragile motion.
He pushed deeper.
A gasp escaped her lips, her eyes squeezing shut as she felt him stretching her, filling her in a way she had never imagined.
Each inch felt like a revelation—pain mixed with a strange, aching pleasure that made her toes curl.
He stopped when he was fully sheathed, his balls resting against her ass, his body covering hers completely.
He stayed still, letting her feel the fullness of him inside her. Her walls pulsed around him, a series of involuntary, milking contractions that made his jaw tighten with the effort of restraint.
"You feel incredible," he breathed, his voice strained. "So tight...and incredibly warm."
He began to move.
Slow, shallow thrusts at first, a gentle rocking that eased her into the rhythm that causes her to gasped with each movement, her body learning the cadence.
Her hands slid from his shoulders to his back, tracing the muscles that flexed and coiled with each stroke.
Little by little, her hips began to rise to meet him, a hesitant but deliberate motion that made his breath hitch.
"That’s it," he encouraged, his pace quickening incrementally. "Take what you need."
The sound of their bodies coming together filled the quiet night—the wet, rhythmic slap of skin on skin, the mingling of their ragged breaths, the occasional, breathless moan.
He angled his hips, searching, and when he found it, a spot deep inside her that made her cry out and dig her heels into his lower back, he drove into it with renewed purpose.
Her nails raked down his back as a second orgasm began to build, coiling low in her belly like a spring.
Her moans turned to incoherent pleas, her legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him deeper.
"Please... please... I’m going to..."
"Together," he grunted, his hips slamming into her, his rhythm losing its measured precision. "Come with me."
It hit them both at once and she shattered, her inner walls convulsing around his cock in a fierce, pulsing grip that sent him over the edge.
He buried himself deep, his seed spilling into her in hot, thick spurts as he groaned her name, his body shuddering with the force of his release.
For a long moment, there was only the sound of their harsh breathing, the thundering of their hearts.
He stayed inside her, his weight a comforting presence, his face buried in the crook of her neck as her hands stroked his hair, her legs still loosely hooked around his waist.
Finally, he lifted his head, looking down at her with a soft, satisfied smile as he brushed a strand of sweat-dampened hair from her forehead.
"Are you alright?"
She nodded, her lips curving into a shy but genuine smile as her cheeks were still flushed, her body still humming with aftershocks.
She pulled him down for another kiss—softer this time, a kiss of promises and gratitude.
He eased out of her, pulling her up against his chest, and they lay tangled together on the narrow bench, the cool night air brushing their overheated skin.
The stars above seemed sharper, brighter, as if the world itself had witnessed something sacred.
"I’ve got you," he whispered into her hair, his arms tightening around her. "I’m not going anywhere."
Shangguan Mu’er finally let out a small sigh of relief. Then, she felt movements and looked down, she saw his cock still fully erect.
She blushes in embarrassment, but not wanting to disappoint him, she couldn’t help but asked, "Do...do you want to continue, young master?"
Haoran smirked, "How about you use your devil form this time?"
Shangguan Mu’er blinked, before letting out an embarrassed smile.
This guy... He really knows how to play.