Zhuang Qiting’s heart pounded fiercely and deep, like forceful strikes on the piano’s lower register.
He had no idea how he managed to carry the woman in his arms into the house.
After placing Li Yaru on the bed, he impatiently pressed himself over her, gripping her face in both hands, forcing her to meet the torrent of his gaze.
“Say it again, wife. Say you like me.”
How could Li Yaru say it? She was already hazy with drunkenness, barely conscious.
Her mind was a mess, hot and muddled.
With Zhuang Qiting pressing down on her, she felt suffocated.
“Go away…what the hell…you’re going to crush me…”
She waved her hands blindly, smacking the man’s face. The sound was crisp, as if she’d given him a real slap.
Zhuang Qiting, even after being slapped, still let out a low chuckle.
“I won’t crush you, baby.”
He caught her hand and brought it to his mouth, biting it from the fingertips up to the back of her hand, then sucked on her fingertips, pressing them into his lips.
“You like me. Aruo, you like me.” He murmured in a low voice, his heavy breaths mingling with the words.
The time they played Golf together… Zhuang Qiting never thought it would be so soon, so soon he felt like a fool.
He’d always prided himself on reading people’s hearts, but when it came to Li Yaru, he was nothing but blinded and stupid.
So it turned out, his darling liked him so early on.
“I like you too.” Unable to contain his excitement, he kissed her recklessly, from her hands up to her forehead, the space between her brows, down the bridge of her elegant nose, all the way to her full, rosy lips.
Li Yaru didn’t even know where she was anymore, only that something wild and rough kept nuzzling her face and body—like a big dog.
Zhuang Qiting was completely lost in his passion, no longer caring whether she would be furious upon waking.
He simply followed his instincts, leaving kiss marks along her delicate neck and shoulders.
To mark her, possess her, bind her, love her—all of this, to him, meant the same thing.
His scattered kisses fell like rain, for a long, long time.
When he was finally somewhat sated, he coaxed her, “Be good, let’s take your clothes off first, I’ll take you to shower.”
She was soft as a lump of mochi, letting him move her as he pleased, unable to resist whatever he wanted.
Zhuang Qiting never expected such a surprise tonight, his eyes and brows radiating smug delight.
In his heart, tonight was already like remarrying Li Yaru—their wedding night.
This feather Dressing Gown was easy to take off; as soon as the zipper reached the bottom, it simply slid off her.
Zhuang Qiting noticed she was even wearing a Corset underneath—so tight it looked cruel.
His brows furrowed. “Little minx, why do you always wear this kind of messy stuff?”
Aren’t you afraid your waist will snap?
He lowered his head, his fingers rough but dexterous, working carefully through the Corset’s intricate clasps.
As soon as he unfastened it, the woman exhaled a long breath, her brows relaxing at last.
“So comfortable…” Li Yaru hummed.
“Not allowed to wear this again.” Zhuang Qiting pressed his palm affectionately against Li Yaru’s slender waist, barely enough to encircle.
She never trained for abs. Her flat tummy was covered by a thin, soft layer of fat—utterly cute, and truly sexy.
Zhuang Qiting loved rubbing his abs against her belly, feeling the delicate charm of her warmth.
Her character was strong, stubborn, rough, and wild, but her body was so soft, her lips so soft, and in truth, her heart was soft, too.
Zhuang Qiting recalled her whispered confession and couldn’t help but smile. “You like me, baby.”
“You actually like me.”
“I knew you liked me too.”
“……………”
As he repeated himself, it turned into a sigh.
Who knew how many times he’d said it tonight, at least several.
Each time, flames kindled in his heart, burning fiercer and fiercer, threatening to consume all reason and leave only overwhelming desire.
He closed his eyes and lay atop Li Yaru, his hands roaming, occasionally nipping her tender flesh.
She really was something—waiting until now to finally tell him.
He was already over fifty, a second marriage, clearly past his prime, yet only now did his wife finally admit she liked him.
He couldn’t quite tell if this was fate’s reward, fate’s punishment, or just another one of Li Yaru’s pranks.
Suddenly, Zhuang Qiting bit down hard on the sweet, citrus-scented flesh, grinding his teeth.
Li Yaru felt a strange pain, arched her body, curled up, and kept smacking him, grumbling in annoyance.
“Li Yaru, don’t even think about sleeping tonight.”
Even drunk, he would see her through thoroughly, Zhuang Qiting thought viciously.
He carried her to the bathroom to wash her clean, taking care of every inch of her skin.
He even copied her way of removing makeup, applying the cleanser to her face.
Actually, Zhuang Qiting had no idea what women used, all those bottles and jars looked the same to him, but after all these years as husband and wife, day after day of observation, he remembered what product to use at each step.
When he was in complete control, the woman in his arms was like his beloved doll.
Yaru’s face was clean, then he applied skincare for her, and wiped down her body, even her toes, leaving nothing untouched.
If she were sober, she would never let him act so wantonly.
The smile in Zhuang Qiting’s eyes never faded.
Finally, he carried her out of the bathroom, laid her flat on the bed.
He stood at the bedside, looking down greedily at the view before him, savoring every detail.
Her fair, delicate skin glowed under the lights like warm jade, her thick, jet-black hair trailing like silk.
Without the constraint of underwear, it spread softly to either side. Her neck bore the marks he’d left.
Zhuang Qiting gazed for a long time, then suddenly remembered something.
He almost couldn’t hide his excitement, choked a little, covered his mouth with his hand as he coughed lightly, then strode into the dressing room.
All the suitcases had been sorted by staff, except for the small case he carried personally, which was locked.
He quickly opened the code, took out a thickly wrapped velvet pouch.
That excitement was carefully suppressed, leaving only a cool, nonchalant expression.
He pulled open the drawstring and searched for stockings.
He nearly forgot—he’d brought this thing along.
If Li Yaru were sober, she’d never cooperate; she’d hit him and call him a pervert.
But now, she was so dizzy and out of it, fallen into his hands, there was nothing she could do.
Zhuang Qiting calmly walked to the bed, bent down, and slowly dressed Li Yaru in the new dress.
The bright red hollow lace covered her fair skin.
The neckline was a single slender string, the slit ran all the way to her thigh—almost covering nothing, and also covering everything.
It was truly seductive.
Li Yaru’s eyes were as deep as a dark pool, her hands no longer under her control, stroking gently.
He tried to restrain himself, to be gentle, but in seconds he lost it—he took a deep breath, rough, nearly tearing the fabric with the sound of ripping.
He gripped Li Yaru’s jaw.
“Aru, baby…Li Yaru…Li Yaru…” He called her name again and again, nuzzling her ear tenderly, feeling her shudder.
This made it easier for him to explore from any angle, holding her hips, sliding from behind with heavy strokes.
His palm felt as if it had just scooped her from the tub. He cursed softly, impatiently smearing all the dampness onto himself.
The water and light made even the normally deep, dark crimson suddenly sparkle, its presence shocking and impossible to ignore.
Li Yaru had no idea what was happening, only that she was comfortably adrift in a drunken dream, basking in the joy of alcohol.
Even when she was flipped over, she just lay there contentedly, only furrowing her brow and peeking back when he was too rough, catching a blurry glimpse of his tall, vigorous silhouette.
She just thought it was a dream, mumbled twice, then turned her head back.
“…Zhuang Qiting?” she moaned.
Zhuang Qiting leaned over, his iron arms circling her waist completely. “It’s me, baby. It’s your husband loving you.”
.
The next day when she woke up, Li Yaru realized things were a mess.
She’d actually slept in Zhuang Qiting’s room, and her whole body was covered in all sorts of wild marks.
All her beautiful dresses had gone to waste—she couldn’t wear any of them.
“You old bastard!!!!”
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