Her heart is pounding—THUMP-THUMP-THUMP... What on earth is happening?
He pounced, his voice low, a predatory grin on his face. "Miss," he purred, "would you care to experience... the love between a man and a woman... at thirty thousand feet?"
Her face flushed crimson.
She’d known he was up to no good, insisting they abandon their original plans to switch to this ridiculously luxurious suite. Of course. A man never spent his money for nothing.
He leaned in. The faster her heart pounded, the more vivid and crimson her lips beca. He bit down, hard. He’d been thinking about this the entire journey. Finally, he captured them.
It hurt—well, not terribly—but she couldn’t call for help.
He kept biting, as if devouring a sweet honeycomb, biting fiercely. But she couldn’t resist at all; her body had already gone soft and limp. He’d been planning this for so long; she truly had no way to fight back.
Still, she had to put up a token resistance. "Hey... no... we’re on a plane... this isn’t right... You brute... you can’t just do whatever you want..."
Of course, *he* wouldn’t just "do whatever he wanted"—he was approaching this with utmost seriousness.
"Hey, you brute—"
He simply sealed her chattering little mouth with his own.
Absence truly made the heart grow fonder.
The sweet fragrance, the desire he’d suppressed for so long, coupled with the thrill and novelty of being thirty thousand feet in the air... everything suddenly reached a boiling point. The urgency, the passion, felt even more intense, more clinging, than when they had first t.
Who was it that said it? To die at such a peak mont... it would be worth it.
He didn’t care in the slightest. His large hands road, skillfully and swiftly peeling her like the freshest orange. Her luminous, smooth skin was so tender and delicate that the re touch sent his blood boiling. His movents suddenly slowed, his gaze incredibly gentle as he looked at her.
In this unfamiliar environnt, she was extraordinarily nervous. Several tis, she reached up to cross her arms over her chest, protectively, a constant flicker of unease in her eyes.
This shy deanor of hers was simply irresistible.
His lips brushed hers, his voice surprisingly tender. "Silly girl... what are you afraid of?"
She completely killed the mood. "I... I’m scared..."
"Scared of what?"
"I’m scared that while we’re... you know... in the middle of it... the plane will... you know..."
He couldn’t help it; he burst out laughing.
What a silly goose.
She had been incredibly tense, but hearing his booming laughter, she also started to chuckle, HEH-HEH. Her laughter, however, died abruptly. It was the most intense, the strangest assault her senses had ever experienced...
Suddenly, she lost all control. Her body was no longer her own to command. She moved with wild abandon, like an untad mustang—no affectation, no shyness, not even a hint of hesitation or concealnt. She opened herself to him, utterly and completely.
He could hardly believe it could be this good...
In the blissful aftermath of their intense passion, he felt utterly drained, almost faint with ecstasy. As for her, she had long since lted into a steaming, sweaty puddle, without even the strength to speak.
He pulled the blanket over her and gently brushed aside her sweat-dampened hair, an indescribable contentnt and joy washing over him. He rembered Lady Daqing’s words: "My boy, are you that starved for a woman? Why do you treasure such an affected, fussy little thing?"
It’s because none of you understand—this precious, fussy darling is ten thousand tis better than any prim, proper, and virtuous woman. People fall in love because of joy, first and foremost, not for any other reason. If all one wanted was virtue, capability, forbearance, and dedication, then couldn’t you just hire a nanny or a dostic helper? Besides, they wouldn’t even complain.
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