The Typhoon's Dangerous Wife

[ WARNING: THE CHAPTER CONTAINS HEAVY ADULT SCENES WHICH MAY NOT BE SUITABLE FOR YOUNG READERS. KINDLY SKIP IT IF YOU ARE UNCOMFORTABLE. AND FOR ALL BESHARAM READERS LIKE ME, YOU ARE WELCOME.]

She didn\'t get to complete it before he sealed her mouth with his.

Yeah! This was how she was asking him to shut her up.

He broke the kiss and softly caressed her face.

He couldn\'t even fathom what he would have done if he had lost her in the mudslide.

He used his fingertip to push the loose pieces of her hair back, and then he caressed her face along her forehead, the shape of her eyebrows, over her eyes, down her nose, all the way to her lips. He traced the outline of them, even softer than he had traced the lines of her face.

His eyes became even more intense, lowering, almost studying the shape of her lips as though he was memorizing each minute detail that came together to form the whole.

Closing her eyes, she leaned ahead. One of his hands snaked around her waist, another arm pulling her even closer.

Her body went pliant and a small breath escaped her parted lips. He seized this moment, putting his mouth to hers, taking her wasted breath for his own. As though she was the oxygen to his lungs, he breathed her in.

The kiss started slow but was no less powerful for it. The rush of it soared through her blood, through her stomach, all the way to the tips of her toes, and back up again. It surged like a high.

It was like he was her high but it was him who was high of her.

Their mouths moved together in slow motion, tender, almost fleetingly so. That was until a throaty moan came from somewhere deep inside of her and she sunk her nails into his shoulders.

As usual, he responded to him, starved for her touch. His hands reached out to touch her, to bring her closer, and she skimmed her nails along his side, over his ribs.

At the light touch, his eyes opened, staring into her. When her nails moved toward his back, her touch harder, he made a feral noise in his throat and his eyes closed. His tongue moved faster, harder, twirling with hers, and everything around them seemed to fade.

Lifting his arms, she removed his shirt as he did to hers. The kiss broke, but only for a second, not long enough to bring them back to reality. His hands palmed her breasts.

When he palmed her breasts she broke out of the daze. When did her hands move? Where did she find the strength? The need to touch him was instinctual.

Where was she again? Oh, at a loss for words.

Her mind refused to believe a world existed outside of theirs; existed outside of this. This, whatever this was, held the power to make life cease to exist outside of the two of them.

His hands palmed her breasts and freed them from her clothes, moaning sound escaped from her lips. Her nails sunk into his skin, wanting more.

He broke the kiss again, almost violently, his head moving down, the water from his hair cool against her burning skin. She hissed out a breath when his mouth replaced one of his thumbs. He sucked her hard, making her lower stomach clench. The pulse between her legs burned, begging for relief.

"Please," She said, not even aware she had even said the word until after she did. She didn\'t care. "More."

"Say my name, Zhenyi. The name I asked you to."

"Ah-Jie."

He smiled between the kiss because the sober would never give in without a fight.

But now she didn\'t care, she was drunk of him.

His hands made quick work of the button on her jean. They slipped down her legs and she stepped out of them. She kicked them across the area. She did the same with her undies.

He made her lay on her back and when his mouth met hers again, and it was a beautiful war between tongues. A throaty moan came from her throat, and he seemed to swallow it down. Then his mouth moved down, making her lick her lips to taste him again with her eyes closed.

He licked her from her neck to her belly button, then back up, and down again.

Her entire body felt like it was about to explode. Shatter into a million pieces. The twinge between her legs had no name. Not even starved seemed to be enough. Her thighs trembled from expectation. The stubble on his face scratched her skin, his tongue the exact opposite, and the wetness from his hair still made a cool trail. He pushed her thighs further apart, and when his mouth closed over her down there, she had to pull his hairs to keep steady.

All of a sudden, he was her religion. Her faith. Her biggest sin.

And for a moment he was her everything.

But who cared even if he was a sin, she was more than ready to be a sinner for him.

Nothing had ever felt so good.

Nothing ever felt like heaven, the way he felt.

Nothing felt like home but he did. Even if it was for a moment.