The bedroom was monochromatic, with varying tints and shades of black, white, and gray. On the king-sized bed laid a man with a sexy figure. He was relaxed—his shoulders were not as strained as usual. In the faint beam of morning light, his distinctive features looked less tensed.
His lashes were thick, his lips thin and inviting, and his high-bridged nose narrow and straight. He was breathing evenly in his sleep.
His long muscular arms were buried under the soft pillow. Perhaps he was dreaming—his eyebrows would occasionally furrow, and he would turn over impatiently.
The silk sheets covering his body had slipped, revealing his lean waist, and the sheer, white fabric had imprinted itself on his plump buttocks.
He was so alluring one would be turned on at the sight of him.
......
"You're so hot..." a seductive voice remarked.
She was slender. Her sharp, bright features could not hide her flirtatious expressions, and a charisma that did not match her age was circling at the corner of her eyes. With the corners of her mouth slightly curved, she had looked extremely charming.
She began to stroke the back of his skin with her soft, delicate hand, slowly and tempting as she ran her fingertips over his body. It was not before long when she realized she had wakened him with her caressing fingers.
"What are you doing? Is this an attempt to seduce me early in the morning?" his voice was low and hoarse as he whispered.
He had gripped her wrist tight, and with a yank, he pulled her onto the bed with him.
In an instant, he was leaning over her, and she could feel the pressure of his torso against hers. His narrow eyes had flashed a glint as he pursed his lips. She had noticed a rare, gentle, and doting look in his eyes.
"Can't I?" she was grinning when she asked.
He let out a brief, pleasant chuckle, "Of course you can."
She was dazed, but it was only for a moment before she successfully concealed the evidence of her appearing emotions by rolling her eyes away.
The next second, she was pressing her lips against his, eager as she swept the inside of his mouth. She was biting his lips when she had felt him quivered.
Almost mischievously, he rubbed his stubble-covered chin against her tender skin before pressing his body against hers. He could feel the warmth of her skin radiating through the silk nightgown.
Arousal, hot and heavy, flooded him in an instant.
"Whoa. Easy there, tiger," he commented.
"Don't you know me? I had always wanted to throw myself at you the first day we met."
He followed this with another short chuckle.
She was unsure if his laugh was directed at her words or her sudden enthusiasm.
"You are laughing at me again!" she was slightly annoyed.
"Mhm."
"..."
Her eyes squinted slightly, and she did not utter another word, though her lips and moving fingers had never paused. It was soon before his breathing came in helpless pants.
While he was absent-minded, she had taken the lead before he knew it.
She sat on top of him as she stared down at him. Her fingers were still lingering and exploring on his body, and there was a hint of temptation within her eyes.
Her eyes were enticing when she leaned over, whispering as her soft, luscious lips pressed against his ear, "Should I keep going?"
His expression was fixed, yet he had felt a burning desire tingling through his nerves, his blood boiling in passion through his veins.
He narrowed his keen eyes and studied her as she sat on his waist with her legs on each side. He was ten years older than her. In the eyes of a grown man in his thirties, she was no different than an innocent, young girl.
But she had so much passion in her spicy undertone, blazing in fury as she took control of each moment. She did not look her age.
Just like opium—intoxicating yet exhilarating, she would call upon him from the bottom of the abyss. As he tasted pleasure, he would not be able to resist the indulgence.
"You little sl*t." He was smirking.
She was sharp in her reply. "Bad girls do it well."
He chuckled again.
"Ah!" she let out a shriek.
And now, it was his turn to regain the initiative. For a while, what was left in the room were their soft moans echoing, their heavy breathing, and the intense euphoria penetrating their souls.
......
The pleasure was over. She was lying across his chest, her fingers drawing slow spirals around his flexed muscles. The lust and look of ecstasy had vanished from her face.
He had not been aware of it.
Gently, he patted her butt and said, "Get up. I'll drop you at uni after breakfast."
"Sure."
......
Half an hour later, she was sitting on the passenger seat of his black Land Rover. Slowly, they exited the mansion, and they were headed towards the city for University A.
"I'll see you tonight."
......
It was small talk, but she had hesitated as she reached for the handle. She did not answer, nor did she nod. She opened the door, got out of the car, and never turned back.
He held the steering wheel as he watched her walked away. When she was out of sight, he had driven off the university property.
Three hours later, he had received a text on his phone.
"The game is over."
The text was from her.
For almost ten minutes, he was staring at the text with his brows furrowed. He tried to ring her but to no avail—her number was disconnected. He was planning to leave when his secretary pushed the door open and strode in.
"Mr. Wilson—"
