Belt, Lipstick, and Consequences
Julian D’Aurelius stared out the window at the city lights streaking past.
He had planned to survive.
To avoid female leads.
To avoid emotional entanglent.
But fate clearly had a twisted sense of humor.
And right now—
A drunk Ice Queen was asleep in his arms, whispering love like it was the most natural thing in the world.
The Rolls-Royce glided smoothly over the overpass, city wind brushing faintly against the tinted windows.
Julian finally allowed himself to relax for half a second.
Then—
He felt sothing warm and soft brush against his shoulder.
He stiffened.
Selene Aurevale had shifted again.
Her long black hair slid over his collar, and when he looked down, he saw her lifting her head with stubborn determination, blue eyes hazy but focused on one goal.
She was aiming for his lips.
"Co on, give a kiss."
Her voice was syrupy, almost coaxing.
She pouted and swayed her head, inching closer.
Julian’s heart nearly leapt out of his chest.
"Damn, don’t co any closer!! Wanner, help pull her off!"
He tried to resist, but his hands were already trapped. Sohow, in her drunken clinginess, she had pinned his wrists between her body and the seat.
He could only jerk his head left and right, dodging like a man avoiding assassination.
Damn it.
If she really kissed him like this—
When she sobered up, wouldn’t she kill him?
"Young master," the bodyguard said helplessly from the driver’s seat, eyes fixed on the road, "I’m driving on the overpass. I can’t help you."
There was even a trace of silent judgnt in his tone.
A beauty throws herself at you and you act like you’re being attacked.
If you’re so righteous, why did you simp for three years?
Despite Julian’s desperate evasive maneuvers, Selene’s persistence paid off.
She missed his lips—
But her soft mouth landed squarely on his cheek.
Then again.
And again.
Warm.
Slightly clumsy.
Each kiss left a vivid red imprint.
Her lipstick sared across his face like a battlefield mark of humiliation.
After planting several enthusiastic kisses, she leaned back slightly, satisfied, and stared at him.
"I kissed you so many tis," she mumbled, brows furrowing cutely. "Why don’t you kiss back?"
Julian’s soul almost left his body.
"Damn, are you always this wild???"
He genuinely looked like he was about to cry.
How could she be like this?
This wasn’t the dignified Selene Aurevale.
This was a tipsy demoness with zero restraint.
She puffed her cheeks, offended.
"Who told you to stop simping for ? You said you’d simp for for a lifeti! You broke your promise."
Her tone shifted.
There was actual sadness there.
Julian blinked.
"But I simped for three years and got nowhere."
"Then why don’t you try simping for another three years?"
"What would happen if I tried?"
"You’d beco a super simp."
Selene giggled at her own logic, clearly pleased.
"..."
Julian stared at her, stunned.
This woman was truly drunk.
Her mood flipped faster than stock prices.
Suddenly, she leaned forward again—not for a kiss this ti—but rubbing her cheek against his like a spoiled cat.
"I’m sorry," she murmured softly. "I know you’re upset. How about I simp for you instead? Don’t ignore ..."
The sudden shift—from teasing to apology, from dominance to vulnerability—hit him harder than the kisses.
For a fleeting second, temptation flared.
Her breath brushed against his skin.
Her fingers slid into his collar.
Her body pressed closer, warm and pliant.
Julian swallowed hard.
If he leaned down just slightly—
If he stopped resisting—
He could return the kiss.
It wouldn’t even take effort.
His heart pounded violently.
But then reality stabbed through the haze.
If she rembered tomorrow—
He would be dead.
If Evan found out—
He would be buried.
And more importantly—
He wasn’t that kind of man.
Before he could respond, Selene’s voice faded mid-sentence.
Her head dropped against his chest.
She fell asleep instantly.
Julian let out a long, exhausted breath.
Finally.
Peace.
He carefully adjusted her posture, making sure she was comfortable but no longer climbing him like a determined vine.
"If you kept going," he muttered under his breath, "my pure body might really be ruined by you."
Ten minutes later, the Rolls-Royce turned through the gates of the D’Aurelius estate.
The mansion stood illuminated under soft golden lights, quiet and imposing.
Julian didn’t plan to send Selene back to the Aurevale household.
She was too drunk.
Explaining lipstick-covered chaos at midnight would be a nightmare.
Besides, the D’Aurelius estate had more than enough guest rooms.
Carrying Selene carefully in his arms, Julian stepped out of the car.
That was when he saw him.
Gary D’Aurelius stood at the entrance.
Arms crossed.
Face darker than storm clouds.
Half an hour earlier, while resting at ho and scrolling through Snapora, an old friend had sent him a video link.
Curious, he clicked.
And there it was.
His son—smiling lecherously—hugging four won, drinking wildly.
Shouting boldly:
"I’m not a scumbag, I just want to give them a ho."
Gary had nearly smashed his phone.
This little brat.
He had just arranged an engagent for him.
And he was already revealing his true colors?
Now—
Seeing Julian step out with lipstick stains all over his face, carrying a woman in his arms—
Gary slowly pulled off his belt.
A father sees his son alive—
And pulls out the Seven Wolves belt.
"Damn, Dad, calm down!"
Julian nearly dropped Selene from shock.
He already knew what was coming.
"Calm down?" Gary’s voice was dangerously low. "You little brat. You just got the marriage arranged and you’re already showing your true colors? Bringing won ho to play?"
He gripped the belt tightly, veins visible on the back of his hand.
Julian quickly shifted Selene slightly so Gary could see her face.
"This isn’t just anyone. It’s Selene Aurevale."
"We went drinking together. That short video was just for fun. Mike Valquin asked to help him shoot it to gain followers."
The bla was delivered smoothly.
Gary narrowed his eyes.
He stepped closer.
Examined Selene carefully.
Indeed—
It was his future daughter-in-law.
His expression eased by a fraction.
The belt slowly slid back through his fingers.
Several bodyguards who had been hiding discreetly in the shadows erged awkwardly.
They had been arranged by Gary in case Julian tried to run.
Julian pretended not to notice.
At that mont, Veena D’Aurelius also stepped out, holding a box of dical Kit.
She glanced at her husband’s belt.
Then at Julian’s lipstick-covered face.
Then at Selene in his arms.
She sighed softly.
"Goodness," she said dryly, lifting the dicine box slightly. "A one-stop service for getting beaten and treated."
Julian nearly laughed from relief.
Tonight—
He had survived kisses.
He had survived temptation.
And sohow—
He had survived the belt.
User Comments
0 comments from readers