What to Do After Being Transported into a Mature-Themed Novel and Caught in a Storm of Passion - Chapter 26
Tears burst from Xue Zhixiao’s eyes as unbearable pleasure pushed her to the brink—only to cruelly deny her release. The sudden emptiness drove her wild, thrashing against Yan Yi’s grip as if possessed.
Yan Yi crushed her squirming body against the door, flattening her heaving mounds until they spread like dough beneath his weight.
“I can’t—I need it! Yan Yi, do me now! Please, I’m begging—!”
When struggling proved futile, Xue Zhixiao turned desperate eyes on him, her voice thick with wanting. Below, her glistening entrance—already stretched by fingers—pulsated visibly, inner muscles convulsing around nothingness. Each clench spilled more slickness down her thighs as she ground them together in frustration.
The sight of her tear-streaked face, flushed with unspent desire, only stoked Yan Yi’s cruel streak.
“Good girls get fed when they’re patient,” he murmured.
Pinning her face-first against the door, he freed his throbbing length, its tip glistening as he dragged it through her soaked folds. The thick rod grew slick with her cream, catching the light obscenely. One hand kneaded her softness roughly; the other tormented her swollen nub with practiced twists.
He teased mercilessly—his crown tapping at her entrance before retreating, circling the swollen lips until her hips jerked involuntarily.
“Yan Yi! Stop teasing—put it in! Stuff me full!”
When he still withheld, Xue Zhixiao reached back to claw at his hips, arching desperately to spear herself.
A dark chuckle rumbled against her neck as he bit her crimson shoulder. “Hungry baby… Big brother’s thick meat will feed you now.”
With a wet shlick, his engorged tip breached her.
“Ah—!”
“Ngh—!”
Their moans tangled, raw with relief.
Yan Yi fought the urge to ram deep, as he gritted his teeth when her inner walls trembled around him. He began a torturous rhythm—shallow thrusts that buried just half his length before retreating, leaving her quivering rim clinging to his purple crown—nine teasing strokes, one deep plunge that punched the air from her lungs. Repeat.
Xue Zhixiao could only whimper, her body caught between resisting the torment and begging for more. Each desperate rock of her hips earned sharp tugs at her oversensitive nub, reducing her to a shuddering mess as slickness gushed anew.
Agony and ecstasy—neither within her control.