Chapter 30: You Asked for This

"Ah..." Tong Xiaoman felt a sudden numbness in her foot, lost her balance instantly, and let out a sharp scream as she tumbled downward headfirst.

"Xiaoman!" Nalan Che was startled. He lunged forward, grabbing her ankle just in time, and pulled her back up in a heart-stopping rescue.

As Tong Xiaoman swung in mid-air, the lack of a solid foothold prompted her to reach out instinctively, grasping at whatever was in front of her to steady herself. Before she could even catch her breath or recover from the shock, she heard a sharp intake of air from above, followed by a low, strained growl: "Tong Xiaoman, where are you grabbing?"

Huh? Through the fabric of his casual trousers, she felt something hard and searingly hot beneath her palm.

Puzzled, she followed her hand with her gaze. Her eyes widened, and her face, already flushed from the fall, turned so hot it could have boiled an egg. Her hand had truly performed a miracle; of all the places to grab, she had landed squarely on his most masculine part. A smirk tugged at the corner of her lips—her hand was incredible; she was almost tempted to worship it.

"Tong Xiaoman, let go." Nalan Che’s face turned deathly pale, his low, growling voice laced with dangerous intensity. This reckless little thing—not only was she clutching him tightly, but she seemed genuinely curious, too. Even with his ironclad self-control, he could barely withstand such provocation.

"Tsk, you were born to be toyed with by women anyway, so why act like it’s a treasure?" Having been suppressed by him for so long, she had finally found his weak spot; how could she let go so easily?

Veins bulged on Nalan Che’s forehead; he could barely stop himself from roaring. "Tong Xiaoman, you asked for this."

Never in his life had Nalan Che been toyed with like this by a woman, yet his body reacted with agonizing honesty, surging with a fierce, burning desire for her. If he could endure this, there was nothing he couldn't endure.

His scorching palms suddenly clamped onto her waist, flipping her around. Before she could even draw a breath, he pinned her against the wall. His lips and tongue, filled with raw hunger, descended like an uncontrollable storm, ravaging hers, covering her mouth with a forceful, domineering kiss. His stiff, heated body pressed tightly against hers, grinding against her through their clothes.

How did things turn out this way? He was bullying her, taking advantage of her, and having his way with her. She should have pushed him away, but under the heat of his frantic kisses, her body turned soft and limp of its own accord, like melting wax.

And this feeling wasn't half bad—it was comfortable, making her yearn to draw closer, to have more, rendering her completely unable to resist.

She smelled wonderful, and her skin was soft and supple. He kissed her lips until they were flushed, plump, and utterly bewitching. He trailed his kisses down her smooth chin, leaving searing marks on her porcelain skin.

"Mmm..." The unfamiliar sensation both frightened and excited her; the pleasure he ignited made her let out an involuntary moan. Her eyes grew hazy, her face flushed as if painted with the most vibrant rouge, and her heart hammered so hard it felt as though it might leap from her chest.

Then, a deep, raspy voice, sounding like a sigh, drifted into her ears: "Little Savage..."

Little Savage...

In her mind, the image of that masked face flashed before her. Those deep, dark eyes seemed to be gazing at her, sighing ever so softly.