What to Do After Being Transported into a Mature-Themed Novel and Caught in a Storm of Passion - Chapter 44
Feng Jiye sat in the driver’s seat holding the girl curled crying against his chest, softly murmuring comfort into her hair. Seeing Xue Zhixiao’s back reddened from grass abrasions during their earlier frenzy, he flipped his hand to produce a medicinal ointment.
Xue Zhixiao had been f*cked into incontinence earlier—humiliated beyond bearing—nearly breaking into hysterical sobs. Fortunately, his spatial inventory held hot water and a tub. There, kissing and coaxing her amidst the steam, he’d gradually soothed her. Yet she kept recalling the shame in flashes, whimpering pitifully between sniffles. That vulnerable, delicate charm made him want to take her right in the tub.
“Baby, my fault—I lost control earlier. I swear I’ll never make you lose control like that again, hm?”
Feng Jiye deliberately prodded her sore spot. He craved seeing her soft and clingy like this—utterly unlike the cold, regal goddess who’d woken beside him that morning—now just a helpless little thing nestling into him.
“Ugh~ You’re still talking about it!”
Xue Zhixiao bristled. Despite being fully nude astride his equally bare lap, she sat upright to pound his rock-hard pectorals.
“Alright alright, I won’t mention it again. Don’t hurt your hands, baby.”
While one hand spread ointment over her bare back, Feng Jiye caught her flailing wrists and brought them to his lips. But her squirming made his thick rod—already pressed flush between them—stir back to full hardness.
Xue Zhixiao froze instantly upon feeling him swell beneath her, barely daring to breathe. Still, she landed one last furious punch against his chest before shooting him a glare.
She could take rough treatment, but after being thoroughly ravaged earlier—and knowing this man’s two-year abstinence had left him ravenous—she refused to suffer further.
Even feasting has its limits. Overindulgence breeds disgust.
“You’re worse than Yan Yi! Ugh~”
“Yes yes, I’m terrible.”
Xue Zhixiao settled back against his chest, allowing his palms to smooth down her back and soothe her ruffled temper.
“Stay with me, Xue Zhixiao?”
That coquettish glare sent electric thrills through Feng Jiye. His hands kept applying ointment, the question slipping out casually. Yet only he knew how his heart hung suspended—waiting for her “yes” or “no” to send it crashing back into place.
Meanwhile, in Feng Jiye’s workshop, a crowd bustled about.
Yan Yi sat motionless on a stool, head bowed and eyelids half-lowered—unreadable. He’d maintained this meditative stillness so long that it starkly contrasted with the surrounding activity.
Soon, a man in green uniform with twin silver stars on his shoulder approached to whisper in Yan Yi’s ear.
Yan Yi lifted his head, expressionless, but those eyes seemed poison-dipped.
“Then go find Yan Qiao.”