"I can't take much more of this!"
Lin Feng panted, finally ending the long, heavy kiss. He reached down.
Zip—
The sound of the zipper cutting through the quiet room was loud and unmistakable. He shifted his weight, and then—without a word of warning—the heavy, searing heat of his cock slapped against Zhou Xiaomeng's smooth stomach with a sharp thwack.
"Wait... no! You... what are you doing? You said we wouldn't!"
The impact jolted a flicker of sobriety back into Xiaomeng's eyes. She instinctively reached out to push him away, but her body was still a puddle after her recent peak. Her weak resistance didn't feel like a rejection at all; it felt like flirting.
"I didn't say I was going in," Lin Feng smirked, silencing her again by devouring her tongue. Then, he began to slowly, agonizingly grind against her. "Relax. I'm a man of my word. Unless you beg me for it, I'm staying outside."
He didn't penetrate, but he coated himself in her slick moisture, sliding up and down the "rails" of her petals. Over... and over...
Every time he glided over her little pearl, Xiaomeng's body gave an involuntary jolt. After a few rounds, she actually started subconsciously matching his rhythm, tilting her hips as he pushed upward just to make sure he hit the mark more precisely.
It felt like he was truly "plowing" her. No—actually, this was more torturous! Every friction point set her soul on fire, but he wouldn't give her the satisfaction of finishing the job. He left her hanging, suffering in a state of pure, unadulterated yearning.
A wild, ridiculous thought even crossed her mind: she almost hoped Lin Feng would "miss" and accidentally slide inside just to end the tension. She found herself desperately wondering what that would actually feel like.
But then, fear surged back. She could feel that every time he slid up, the tip was passing her navel and almost reaching the underside of her chest. This is... insane, she thought. If he actually went for it, would I even survive?
Her mind was a mess—shame, anticipation, and terror clashing so hard she lost all ability to think. As the pressure built up like a shaken bottle of champagne, the cork finally began to give way. The eruption was coming.
"Open up."
Lin Feng was suddenly kneeling over her waist, one hand pinning her head while the other finished the job. Xiaomeng was in a daze, her strength and logic long gone. Like a puppet on a string, she obediently, submissively parted her lips.
Chshhh!
But the moment that massive impact and strange scent hit her mouth, her reflexes kicked in. She clamped her mouth shut and tried to turn her face away.
Too late.
The first, thickest wave slid down her throat, carrying a bizarre, alien taste. Then, the rest of the "champagne" sprayed across her perfect face—from her forehead to her cheeks and down to her chin—leaving her a total mess.
Xiaomeng went catatonic. She could smell the heavy scent and feel the liquid dripping down her cheeks, but her brain was a total blank. Humiliation, disgust, and a weird, dark thrill fought for dominance in her heart.
I... I actually took it?! And he got it all over my face...
Watching her, Lin Feng's breathing grew even heavier. The girl's eyes were squeezed shut, her long lashes wet with glistening droplets, her pale face covered in his "masterpiece." That look of terrified, powerless submission was a total turn-on.
There was a little left. Smirking, Lin Feng rubbed the tip against the bridge of her nose, smearing the last of it onto her white skin. Then, as a "reward," he gave her massive breasts a firm squeeze and a couple of playful slaps before finally pulling away, satisfied.
He turned and knelt before Jiang Xiaoya, who had been watching the whole show.
She didn't need to be told twice. She heartlessly pushed the limp, broken Xiaomeng off her lap, letting her roll onto the soft mattress. Then, Xiaoya adjusted herself and knelt before Lin Feng, tilting her beautiful face up and opening her mouth with a look of pure, hungry flattery. Without a single command, she leaned in to clean up the battlefield like a greedy little kitten.
The mission was halfway there. Once they get a taste, they get addicted. These "plastic" besties were officially under his thumb.
The reason Lin Feng hadn't taken Xiaoya's "first time" yet was simple: it was her first time. It deserved a little more ceremony—a better environment.
Lin Feng reached out, running his fingers through Xiaoya's silky waves. His gaze drifted past her, landing on the figure on the bed.
Xiaomeng was lying on her side, her dress bunched up around her waist like a crushed flower. The elegant curve of her spine was visible from her neck down to her hips, her skin glowing under the lights. Her perfect back and long, shapely legs were totally exposed. She still had the white socks on, with that soaked pair of strawberry panties hanging off one ankle, swaying slightly with her shallow breaths.
She looked fragile, wronged—like a little white rabbit that had been ravaged by a storm—yet she radiated a lethal, messy sex appeal.
Lin Feng thought back to how she looked under him—wanting to cry but not daring to, her body being brutally honest as she actively cooperated. That total contrast, that feeling of completely "breaking" someone else's girlfriend, gave him a sense of conquest that was better than any high.
If Chen Mo only knew...
The "precious" girlfriend he was too afraid to even kiss, the one he only dared to hold hands with, was currently playing by no-holds-barred rules with Lin Feng, unlocking every "hard mode" position in the book.
The thought sent a rush of vengeful pleasure through Lin Feng's heart that was even better than the physical act itself.
"Clean yourselves up," Lin Feng said, his tone returning to a calm, flat level. "The movie's almost over. Go hit the shower."
He picked up his phone and tapped the screen twice.
Ping!
Ping!
Two notification alerts rang out simultaneously. He had just sent $1,500 to each girl's WeChat.