Love For You - Chapter 32

Chapter 32: Even a Dump Truck is Classier Than Him

It was three or four in the morning. The room was dim, a straw mat covered the bed, and the electric fan hummed, its breeze brushing against soft skin and hair. It was a time meant for deep sleep.

Chen Yi was groggily looking for water. Someone held a cup to his lips. He took two sips of the cold water, felt the cool skin of the person beside him, and reached out. The texture was like satin, accompanied by a familiar, faint fragrance. He pressed closer to the soft, supple, and slender body. Not realizing who it was and assuming he was back in another erotic dream, he pressed his heavy, vigorous body against her. His lips grazed her smooth skin, his hands roamed up and down, and he impulsively thrust his hips twice.

The physical sensation was too real—one body hard and scorching like an iron plate, the other soft and slippery like a dessert. As they collided, both bodies trembled slightly.

The sound of breathing instantly rose from the dark night, suddenly becoming thick and lingering. Chen Yi, still muddled, thought this felt obscenely realistic. His mind hadn't caught up, but his hands had already taken the lead, kneading and pinching wherever they pleased. The feel of her chest, waist, hips, and legs was impossibly good. Her small, peaked breasts were cradled in his palm, soft as lard; her waist was thin enough to be pinched with a flick; her hips and legs were so supple that they couldn't hold his calloused palms steady. He was stimulated to the point of flying, noticing the dream-figure's body stiffen and shiver, her feverish breath arching against his shoulder as she seemed to hold back with her whole body.

He wanted to kiss her. Acting on instinct, he followed her face downward, without restraint or fear of scaring her. He easily pried open her cherry lips, sliding his tongue inside to do as he pleased, licking, sucking, and absorbing the saliva in her mouth, sweeping across her palate and teeth. He imagined there were countless ways to kiss, but only in a dream could he be this uninhibited.

His narrow waist thrust gently, his erection clear and arrogant against her. She was dressed thinly in just a small camisole dress. With a casual flick of his hand, half of her smooth, graceful body was revealed. He wasn't wearing much either—a tank top and athletic shorts. Skin against skin, body stacked upon body, every pore clamored for more intense satisfaction.

Whether it was because the dream-body was too green and stiff, or because the stimulation was too intensely real, just as he was peaking in pleasure, the name "Chen Yi" drifted past his ear, sounding like a sob. Nails dug into his skin, causing a faint pain. His tipsy eyes suddenly widened, and he stared fixedly at the person in front of him. A pair of clear, bright eyes, brimming with shimmering moisture, swayed as they looked at him. Beneath his palm, her beautiful body heaved. He had already pushed her dress halfway down, revealing an unobstructed, flawless snowy landscape in the dim light.

Everything around him... was not a dream.

Chen Yi fully sobered up, breaking into a sweat. His pupils dilated, and he went rigid, frozen like a statue, unable to even speak a word. He recoiled as if electrocuted, rolling half a bed’s distance away. His voice was raspy and trembling: "I... you..."

He was lying in her room.

"You're drunk."

The shoulder strap of Miao Jing’s nightgown had slipped off, half-naked and unable to hide the ambiguity of her chest. Her fair, pretty face was flushed with heart-palpitating crimson, and her usual cold, haughty air had receded. Her brows and eyes held a hidden softness and clarity. She sat up, trembling as she held her knees, sitting calmly and hesitantly in front of him.

"I'm fucking... damn it..." Chen Yi’s face was green and tight, the back of his head numb. Between his legs, he was still fully erect. He struggled to hide himself as he rolled off the bed. He had never been so screwed over or embarrassed in his twenty years of life. His brain had completely crashed, but thankfully the room was dark, shielding the last shred of his dignity.

"Chen Yi."

She called his name weakly, shifting over to tug at the corner of his shirt. Their gazes collided. Her eyes seemed to be her final effort as she straightened her body. The straps slid all the way down, revealing her half-naked, adolescent body, which was taken in completely by his gloomy, dark gaze. Miao Jing tremblingly reached out to embrace him, her slim, delicate body pressing gently against him, her nipples brushing his arm.

"Chen Yi..." she murmured, her voice soft and winding. "Don't go... stay..."

She rested her cheek against his shoulder, rubbing softly, her supple, damp lips pecking gently at his warm skin. She pressed tighter, burying her face in his neck, whispering his name over and over, like a curse.

His mind was a blank slate. His Adam's apple bobbed repeatedly. He asked in a hoarse, unclear tone, "Stay for what?"

"Anything you want." Her voice trembled, too, as she tried to overcome her shyness. She found his fingers, tremblingly guiding them to her lower abdomen. His distinct, bony fingers rested on the edge of her underwear; if he were to probe just a little inside...

"Chen Yi..."

Chen Yi’s gaze grew dark and abyssal; his body remained frozen.

She tightened her arms, squeezing herself into his embrace, twisting her soft waist to pull him onto the bed. He let her lead him, his tall, sturdy body looming over her. His sharp, sword-like brows were knitted, his pitch-black pupils staring at her as he hoarsely asked if she knew what she was doing.

Miao Jing said she knew, trying very hard to face him openly.

"Do you regret it?"

"I don't regret it."

His piercing gaze stared straight at her. "Why do this?"

Her eyes flickered, her cherry lips whispering, "No reason. Just thanking you."

Thanking him.

He really did thank her—he thanked her whole family.

His gaze darkened, his expression stuck. It was clear this remark had stung him. He replied coldly, "Is that so?" His heart suddenly felt empty. He tilted to the side, lying parallel to her on the pillow. He touched his own lips, subconsciously wanting a cigarette, staring straight at the ceiling. In just that moment, the light shifted from dim to soft and clear. The shadows in the room became sharp, little by little. The traces of his childhood had been completely erased, replaced entirely by her territory: the posters on the wall, the books and pens on the desk, the dolls and clutter on the bedside table.

He turned his head again. The person beside him had suddenly stretched from a thin, small shadow into a graceful, slender young girl. She reached out to hold him, shielding her chest. With beautiful eyes, a exquisite face, soft limbs, and porcelain-white skin, she noticed his scrutinizing gaze and turned to look at him. Both their eyes were quiet and profound.

It was like flickering clouds and sunlight, like a mirror on water suddenly shattering. His breath caught twice. He gritted his teeth in silence and then, without further thought, flipped over to pin her down. Her long lashes fluttered, and she opened her arms, pressing tight against his chest, her arms hooking around his neck.

Two pairs of scorching eyes drew near. It started with a forceful, deep kiss, prying each other's lips apart. Their lips sucked and adhered tightly, their teeth clicking together. He unscrupulously swept his tongue across her pearly teeth, grinding against the soft, sensitive inner walls of her mouth, teasing her palate and the root of her tongue, passing saliva and breath between them. She was breathless, her eyes shimmering like sunset clouds, until finally, she took the initiative, curling her tongue to suck on the tip of his, holding his strong tongue entirely within her own. Like a little fish, she slid and rubbed against him, wanting him to be intense, wanting him to meld with her. How could she be cold as ice or a lonely moon? She was clearly a charming, beautiful, and enchanting demon.

Their lips and teeth were inseparable, the sparks of fire completely igniting their reason. His hands roamed over her body impatiently. Miao Jing was flushing, heating up, and trembling all over. Every touch, whether a kiss or skin contact, brought an intense sensation. She liked this detailed, dense pleasure; she liked the touches and marks he left on her body. Every tiny tremor eventually flowed into the depths of her lower abdomen, making her unable to help but want to climb up and hold his shoulders, wrapping around his strong waist.

Their bodies were still separated by clothes. Chen Yi panted and pulled off his tank top, his vigorous heat and flowing muscle groups erupting with physical desire. Both their bodies had beautiful bone structures, a kind of natural, balanced, young aesthetic. His fingers traced the edge of her underwear and slipped inside, meeting tender, smooth skin and an indescribable beauty. Both of them gasped. Miao Jing’s abdomen pulled in, her slender legs stiffening as she clutched Chen Yi’s hand in a mixture of nervousness and shame.

Chen Yi groaned, his eyes burning with a dark, fierce fire. His heart was pounding so hard it felt like it would explode. He wanted to push forward, but felt clumsy and at a loss. His handsome face was flushed to the extreme. His fuzzy head bowed over her chest; her fair breasts were like sleeping birds with peaked, pink beaks. He treated it like food, burying his head with a wolf-like hunger, biting until Miao Jing’s small face turned crimson, her whole body curling and shivering. Electric currents of excitement darted to her core, melting into a flowing spring in his kneading palms.

She whimpered, tremblingly calling out "Chen Yi." Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes, and overly complex emotions flowed through her heart, leaving her with no choice but to shrink tightly into his arms, hoping he would give her some response.

"Miao Jing..." Finally, with their young bodies bare to each other, he held her face and whispered her name. But it didn't feel like enough. What was he supposed to say? He had never spoken tender words. In the final moment, he thrust his hips, entering her, and hugged her while drenched in sweat, blurting out a muffled, "Be good, don't be afraid."

That arrogant thing poked at her sticky, crimson core. He thrust twice but couldn't get in, sliding against her inner thighs. His reddened eyes stared with a burning, fierce focus at her delicate, fragile face. He frowned deeply from the effort of holding back; his handsome features looked tense and sharp as he rasped, asking her:

"Is it here?"

"I don't know," she whispered, her voice no louder than a mosquito.

The entire area was a deep, scarlet red. Even a glance was shocking. He reached out a finger, following the spring water, guiding it into the damp, soft, slippery passage. He hooked his finger and turned it twice. Hearing Miao Jing knit her fine brows and moan in what sounded like pain, he gritted his teeth, enjoying the tight, constricting feeling of his finger being sucked by her tender, soft flesh. He cursed, "Fuck, why is it so small?"

With that curse, the atmosphere shifted. Miao Jing was so ashamed that her snow-white body was flushed with a pink tide. Her bright eyes flowed with desire; she clutched the straw mat beneath her, breathing hard as she squeezed his finger tightly, biting her lower lip.

He regained some of his reckless, lawless, shameless air, leaning into her ear and laughing softly: "It’s different from the movies."

The words had barely left his lips before Chen Yi, with great intensity, propped up his athletic body. With burning eyes, he withdrew his honey-slicked finger and guided himself inside. He had enough capital and confidence. He forced the head of his arrogant erection into her. His body and mind were already soaring with stimulation. He looked up at Miao Jing; her beautiful, cold face was turned to the side, her fine brows knitted, lips bitten hard—clearly a look of unbearable discomfort.

"Does it hurt?"

Miao Jing shook her head silently. Chen Yi’s heart felt as tangled as a web. He bowed his head to kiss her, prying apart her teeth, soothing and licking her rose-colored lips that bore his bite marks. He heard a winding, lingering moan escape from her relaxed lips. Her blurred, clear eyes also held such bewitching, lustful waves. He was excited beyond belief; his cold, self-controlled younger sister was also a charming, erotic woman who, like him, had love and desire.

Hot sweat trickled down his broad back, his deep eyes covered by the shadows of pleasure. He thrust his strong waist, embedding himself bit by bit. By the time he was halfway in, it was impossible to move further. His handsome face was distorted, but Miao Jing was already biting her teeth in pain. Her slender body trembled, and the two legs hooked around his waist hung limply. He probably realized her stiffness, so he stopped moving, raining down fine, dense kisses on his girl.

The two shared a wet, desire-filled kiss. Chen Yi used both hands to rub her, from her earlobes to her toes, kneading her like dough, rubbing her soft and flat, rubbing her into a state of beautiful crimson. He made her eyes lose focus, her body heating up and trembling, pleasing her, making her moan uncontrollably, making her body bloom with pleasure and joy bit by bit.

He began to move slowly again, nibbling on her earlobes while calling "Miao Jing" and "little sister." Miao Jing, caught between sinking and pain, slowly fluttered her unfocused eyes, opening her body to accept his entry, encompassing all of him, and slowly kissing him back—kissing the sweat on his temples, kissing his knotted brows.

It wasn't entirely comfortable; at least, the expressions and sounds in the movies were fake. Both of them had their own forms of pain, but they were still satisfied to the point of being swept away, body and soul. There was no way to describe that tremor and beauty. It wasn't about desire; it was about the intimacy and sense of safety brought by their union.

Only a few minutes later, Chen Yi’s body suddenly went rigid. He quickly withdrew from her body. The white fluid and pale red blood mixed together, staining her crimson skin with a startling, shocking color.

Chen Yi stared blankly. He used his own clothes to wipe away the mud. Miao Jing blinked her eyes gently, curling her trembling body and pulling over her clothes to cover her mark-covered torso. He leaned in, his fingers stroking her slightly sweaty, flushed cheek, asking her in a low voice if it hurt.

She said softly that it didn't hurt, only that she was very tired. She lay on her side. The dawn was already fully bright, and the midsummer light poured through the floral curtains, casting a ceramic-like soft glow on her skin. Chen Yi hugged her from behind, resting his chin on the top of her head, raining down fine, dense kisses on her back and shoulders, moving her hair aside and wiping the hot sweat from the back of her neck.

After moving those few dozen times, Chen Yi’s body had remained stiff and unyielding. They hadn't prepared anything, and given Miao Jing’s state, he didn't dare move casually. Thinking of something, he leaned into her ear to ask if they should go out and buy medicine. She shook her head, saying her period had just finished, and fell fast asleep, resting on his arm.

When Miao Jing woke up again, it was already 10:30 in the morning. Chen Yi had gone out to buy some things. He called Bozai to say he was staying home to watch over her today; he didn't trust leaving Miao Jing alone. After finishing a cigarette, he went to the bedroom to check on her, seeing her curled up in a tiny ball. Her clothes only covered her chest and hips, and the marks on the rest of her skin were visible at a glance. He leaned over and saw she had already opened her clear eyes, staring blankly at the curtains that hadn't been pulled back.

For the first time in his life, Chen Yi showed iron-willed tenderness. His tall physique and sturdy bones seemed to shrink. He squatted in front of her, supporting himself on the bed with both hands, asking if she was hungry or uncomfortable. He had brought breakfast and ointment. He carried the milk glass and her favorite food over to feed her. Miao Jing sat on the bed and ate a few bites, feeling sticky and wanting a shower. Chen Yi simply picked her up and turned on the shower, washing her body. His fingers touched her inner thighs. Both of their gazes were unnatural; beyond the awkwardness, it seemed a tacit understanding had been reached. Miao Jing moved her eyes away, clenching her pink-flushed cheeks, and kept her body slightly stiff to let him help her rinse off.

The bathroom was filled with mist, and everything was covered in wet, hot steam. Their interlaced breaths were stickier and more suffocating than the humidity. The water sprayed from his shoulders and splashed onto her beautiful chest, flowing down slowly. Both pairs of eyes were dazed and misty, tangled by the splashing water droplets and the unspoken, shy emotions. Not knowing why, they both recalled their first kiss—a very strange occasion and atmosphere. Chen Yi swallowed, reached out to wipe the water droplets off her face, and held her in his arms, bowing his head to kiss her petal-like face again. He felt lucky—lucky that only the two of them were in this house, that only the two of them depended on each other, and that everything held an unspoken fate.

He carried Miao Jing back to the room and dried her hair, dressing her. He liked this feeling of taking meticulous care of someone. He had even bought soothing ointment and medicinal patches, which he handed to her with a bashful look. The nightclub often had shocking, tawdry news, and he was a little terrified, not daring to do anything carelessly.

In the end, Chen Yi went to rinse his mouth, then lay on the bed, supporting himself on his elbows to bow down, using his soft, slick lips and tongue to replace the medicine, soothing her pain and discomfort.