What to Do After Being Transported into a Mature-Themed Novel and Caught in a Storm of Passion - Chapter 119

After their passionate union, Xue Zhixiao lay nestled in Liu Xiuzhe’s arms, her skin still flushed and glowing from their shared heat. The steady rise and fall of her chest matched her peaceful breathing as she slept, her face softened by exhaustion and contentment. Liu Xiuzhe propped himself on one elbow, his gaze tracing every curve of her resting form—the delicate slope of her neck, the gentle swell of her mounds peeking above the tangled sheets, the way her long legs curled slightly against him. Even in sleep, she exuded an intoxicating orchid scent that wrapped around him, soothing yet stirring his hunger anew.

His fingers drifted along her cheekbone, then lower, cupping the full weight of one mound. The supple flesh yielded under his touch, reshaping itself to his palm with a pliancy that made his pulse quicken. In this moment, she seemed utterly perfect, a vision he couldn’t have imagined mere days ago. Before yesterday, the idea of a woman invading his carefully guarded world would have repelled him. Now, he craved to memorize every detail of her—to touch, to claim, to lose himself in her until pleasure blurred their senses beyond reason.

That hunger had driven him to carry her home that night, to lay her across his bed and worship her anew despite her spent protests. Her hoarse pleas had only tightened her slick walls around him, pulling him deeper until her nectar spilled freely, drenching the sheets beneath them. He’d changed them once, then twice, relentless in his pursuit. By the end, her climaxes had come in waves too numerous to count, leaving her limp and pliant as he explored every angle of her surrender.

A darker thread wove through his thoughts. She’d teased him once, mocked his fleeting control—yet now, his obsession ran deeper than revenge. His body, his instincts, even his rationality demanded her. The shadow of past lovers crossed his mind, and his fingertip absently traced the swollen rim of her entrance, still tender from their union. A bead of dew greeted his touch, proof of her lingering sensitivity.

Jealousy coiled in his chest. A woman like her—radiant, irresistible—would have drawn admirers like moths to flame. The idea of sharing her was unthinkable. Could he lock her away? Sponsor her? Neither held appeal; she lacked nothing, and confinement would only breed resentment. Even the thought of drugs or hypnosis sickened him—he’d sooner cut off his own hand than harm her.

The irony wasn’t lost on him. Liu the Demon, the ice-cold strategist who commanded boardrooms with a glance, now lay tangled in sheets, his razor-sharp mind reduced to plotting how to keep a single woman by his side.

Love, it seemed, was the ultimate vulnerability.