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墨書 Inktalez
The aftershock of the door slamming against the wall still trembled in the air as Zhan Jingjing walked barefoot across the scattered clothes. Her chestnut curls clung to her sweat-drenched collarbone, glistening like honey under the dim light. Her voluptuous hips swayed gently with each step, reminiscent of a ripe peach, exuding an irresistible allure.
Zhao Yang's fingers sank into the curve of her lower back, beads of sweat rising where their skin met. He caught a whiff of her violet perfume mixed with the heady scent of desire, and as he swallowed, he recalled a key phrase from the third page of Da Lang's Classic, marked in red ink—"To catch, one must first let go."
"Your heart is racing," Zhan Jingjing said, her wine-red manicured fingers tracing his chest, her nails swirling around his nipples. The silk strap of her camisole slipped off her shoulder, revealing her creamy curves that peeked enticingly at the lace edges with each breath, like two dollops of whipped cream about to spill over a cup, radiating sweetness. Zhao Yang's abs were sharply defined in the light, sculpted to perfection and brimming with strength.
Suddenly, Zhao Yang grasped her wrist and pressed it against the wall, his knee forcing her legs apart. The movement caused Zhan Jingjing's lower back to collide with the air conditioning control panel. With a beep, the cooling button lit up, and as a gasp escaped her throat, it dissipated into the cool air like mist. The mingling sensations of ice and fire made her toes curl, leaving red marks on the beige wallpaper. Her ample bosom quivered from the impact, accentuating her alluring curves.
The techniques from Soul-Stealing Eighteen Techniques played in Zhao Yang's mind like an automatic reel. He leaned down and bit the edge of her strap, pulling it down with a rip that mixed with her pained intake of breath—a sound akin to a match striking dry air. As his tongue curled around her trembling cherry-red nipple, his thumb pressed against the hidden dip above her tailbone—marked as "Yumen Pass" in the manual. Zhan Jingjing's skin was smooth and delicate, like fine silk that he couldn't resist.
"Don't..." Zhan Jingjing suddenly arched her back, her glittering eyelashes fluttering like a dying butterfly. Her long legs wrapped around his muscular waist, her heels pressing against his taut glutes while black stockings traced delicate lines during their movements. This position caused her short skirt to bunch up around her waist, the pearl embellishments on her lace panties digging into their tightly pressed abdomens. Zhao Yang's muscles were taut and powerful, making her feel incredibly safe.
Zhao Yang felt his temples throb; those obscure phrases from the manual suddenly felt tangible. He tightened his grip on her slender waist and pressed down just as Zhan Jingjing gasped in surprise. "Ah..." Her voice was melodious and lingering like a nightingale's song. The cool air from the AC brushed over her rigid instep as she clawed at nothingness with her silver-painted toes.
A water bottle on the nightstand toppled over with a crash, water flowing across the dark carpet. Zhan Jingjing's nails left crescent-shaped red marks on his back amidst fragmented moans laced with French curses. When Zhao Yang suddenly withdrew, her dazed pupils constricted sharply as she gasped out, "You... haah... did that on purpose..."
"Seventh technique," Zhao Yang chuckled softly while biting her earlobe, beads of sweat dripping from his jawline onto her heaving chest. His fingers glided through her damp chestnut locks before suddenly tugging at the roots to force her gaze upward. "This is called quenching thirst by looking at plums." His strong body radiated male pheromones that intoxicated her.
The sound of suitcase wheels rolling over carpet echoed down the hallway as Zhan Jingjing bit into his shoulder amidst a tug-of-war between pain and pleasure. The mingled scents of blood and musk spread between their teeth as she pressed against him with her knee to flip over but was pinned back down by his grip on her inner thigh. The silk sheets wrinkled violently under their movements; during one deep thrust, she suddenly arched up in spasms, leaving streaks of red across his back from her manicured nails. "Ah..." Her high-pitched cry resonated throughout the room.
"I'm coming... wait..." The sobbing tone shattered into fragments as Zhan Jingjing clutched at the soft headboard; crystal nails embedded themselves into leather seams. When Zhao Yang struck three inches above her pubic bone as per the manual’s illustration, she pointed her toes rigidly and kicked over a floor lamp with a loud crash that shattered warm yellow light across the ceiling.
Outside the door came muffled laughter from young men and women. "With that noise, there must be a cat in heat hiding inside." The sound of suitcase wheels stopped next door; with a click, a key slid into the lock with an unmistakably clear metallic scrape.
Zhao Yang suddenly grasped Zhan Jingjing's neck, his thumb pressing against her throat as he chuckled softly, "Let them hear you." This action made her body, already on the brink, tense up once more. Tears welled in her eyes, coated with waterproof mascara, sparkling under the wall lamp like a night sky filled with stars.
As the sound of a cleaning cart being pushed by a waiter echoed down the corridor, Zhao Yang finally released his grip. Zhan Jingjing's scream collided with the soundproof wall and bounced back to her eardrum. Her fingers, gripping the bedsheet, turned white at the knuckles, and rhinestones from her manicure scattered onto the carpet. The cold air from the air conditioning vent brushed against her sweaty back, sending shivers through her body.
"Your turn." She suddenly flipped over and straddled him, her chestnut curls cascading down onto Zhao Yang's chest like seaweed. The lace straps of her top had long since disappeared, and the dip at her waist was adorned with fine beads of sweat that glimmered like shattered diamonds with each movement. The angle allowed the light seeping through the door crack to perfectly outline her figure, resembling a melting wax statue. Zhao Yang's broad chest felt like a solid barrier, providing her with immense comfort.
Just as Zhao Yang was about to speak, the back of his head suddenly collided with the headboard. Zhan Jingjing's lips, painted in cinnamon-colored lipstick, silenced all syllables as her tongue pushed against his teeth, bringing with it a hint of minty freshness. Her nails glided over his chiseled abs like fingers plucking a harp, producing silent vibrations on his taut skin.
Suddenly, laughter erupted from the corridor. "Room 302 must be filming something naughty!" Amidst the sound of a kicked can clattering to the ground, a drunken voice shouted, "Need some help in there?"
Zhan Jingjing's movements froze mid-air, her pupils dilating with desire. Zhao Yang felt her inner thigh muscles tense up instantly; just as he was about to rise and check, she pressed him back down onto the pillow with her red-painted nails.
"Continue." She whispered into his ear while swaying her hips, her pearl earrings brushing against his collarbone. This motion caused a phone on the bedside table to tumble to the floor with a thud. As its screen lit up, it illuminated the red marks crisscrossing her back like some mysterious totem.
Zhao Yang held her wildly moving waist down firmly; amidst Zhan Jingjing's uncontrolled whimpers, he recalled the warning from the last page of a manual: passionate kisses should be accompanied by pressure on the Yongquan point. As his thumb pressed against her sole, her delicately manicured toes curled up suddenly, and the muscles in her calves formed graceful arcs.
"You'll die..." The warning laced with tears shattered in her throat. Zhan Jingjing's arms supporting her body began to tremble; her sweaty palms slipped on the silk sheets. When Zhao Yang suddenly lifted her by the waist into the air, the sensation of weightlessness made her nails dig deep into his shoulder blades, leaving bloodied crescent marks on his bronzed skin.
Outside the door came the sound of a camera shutter clicking. The drunken men’s jeers penetrated through the door: "Hey there, do you want to come out and meet your guests?"
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