Summer Tide

The afternoon sun poured through the grimy windows of Classroom 14, casting long rectangles of gold across the worn floor tiles. A faint hum of fluorescent lights mixed with the rustle of turning pages and the distant shouts of students playing basketball on the asphalt court below. Lu Shuran sat at her desk near the front, the white fabric of her summer school uniform stretched taut across her chest. She kept her head down, fingers fumbling with the zipper of her backpack, though the bag was already neatly arranged. She didn't need to check anything—she just needed an excuse to look away from the weight of the heat.

Her breath came shallow. The buttons of her blouse pulled against their thread, each inhale a reminder of how tightly the cotton clung to her skin. She could feel the hook of her bra digging into the space between her shoulder blades, the underwire pressing into the soft flesh beneath her breasts. It was a familiar discomfort, one she'd grown used to ignoring, but today it felt sharper. Every movement, every shift in her seat, brought a fresh wave of awareness.

She glanced sideways, her eyes flicking toward the back row without turning her head. Kang Peikai was there, slouched in his chair with a lazy confidence that seemed to belong only to him. His pen tapped a rhythm against the edge of his desk, his gaze fixed on something beyond the blackboard. Or so she thought. But when she dared to look a moment longer, she caught the angle of his chin, the way his Adam's apple moved as he swallowed. He wasn't looking at the blackboard. He was looking at her.

Her heart lurched. She pulled her gaze away, heat blooming in her cheeks.

The strap of her bra had shifted again. She could feel it sliding, the edge of the fabric digging into the curve of her shoulder. She pressed her thighs together beneath the desk, trying to ignore the prickling sensation that ran down her spine. Her fingers found the strap through the thin cotton of her blouse, and she tugged it back into place with a delicate, almost guilty motion. The brush of her own hand against her skin sent a shiver through her, and she bit her lip.

Behind her, the tap of the pen stopped.

Kang Peikai let his eyes trace the line of her back, the way the white fabric molded to her spine, the slight indentation where the clip of her bra pressed against the fabric. He could see the outline of it, a small bump beneath the cotton. The thought of it—a strip of lace and elastic hidden under her prim uniform—made something twist in his chest. He shifted in his seat, propping his elbow on the desk, and watched the way she moved when she thought no one was looking. Small, careful adjustments. A hand brushing her collarbone. A quick glance around the room before she tugged at her collar.

The bell rang, a shrill clatter that broke the heavy silence. Chairs scraped against the floor as students began to gather their things. Lu Shuran stood, letting her backpack slide onto one shoulder, and tried to smooth the front of her blouse. She could feel the heat of his gaze even now, burning between her shoulder blades. She dared a glance back as she walked toward the door.

Kang Peikai was still sitting, his pen rolling between his fingers. He met her eyes for a single, electric second, and then he smiled—a slow, easy curve of his lips that made her stomach drop.

She turned away quickly, her pulse hammering in her ears. The hall was crowded, voices overlapping, but she heard nothing over the blood rushing through her veins. Her bra strap had slipped again. She didn't dare fix it now. She just kept walking, the ghost of his smile still lingering behind her.

The first exam bell hadn't rung yet, but the classroom was already suffocating. Lu Shuran settled into her seat, the wooden chair creaking under her weight. She placed her pencil case and ID card on the corner of the desk, then tilted her head to glance out the window. The summer sun was already climbing, casting long shadows across the campus lawn. She could feel the heat prickling through her thin T-shirt.

Behind her, Kang Peikai slid into his seat. His desk bumped against hers lightly, and she felt the vibration travel up her spine. She didn't turn around, but she knew it was him—the familiar scent of laundry detergent and something faintly metallic, like ink and sweat mixed together.

"Good morning, classmate," he said, his voice low and casual.

Lu Shuran smiled to herself, keeping her eyes forward. "Good morning, squad leader. Ready for the exam?"

"Always." He tapped his pencil against the desk twice. "You?"

"I'll manage."

The invigilator called for silence. Papers rustled, zippers closed, and the room fell into a tense hush. Lu Shuran sat up straighter, adjusting her posture. Her training bra was snug beneath her T-shirt, but she was acutely aware of the back clasp pressing against her shoulder blades. The fabric was thin, almost translucent in the morning light streaming through the windows. She knew it showed. She had chosen it on purpose.

The exam began. Pages flipped, pens scratched, and the clock on the wall ticked in slow, deliberate beats. Lu Shuran worked through the first section methodically, but as time passed, the heat in the room thickened. She could feel a line of sweat trickling down her spine, tracing the edge of her bra strap.

Behind her, Kang Peikai had finished his multiple-choice questions early. He stared at the blank answer sheet for a moment, then lifted his eyes. His gaze caught on her back—the faint outline of the strap, the way the fabric clung to the curve of her spine. He pressed his pen harder into the scratch paper, leaving deep grooves in the pulp. *Focus,* he told himself. But his mind drifted to the way she moved when she leaned forward to read a question, the slight shift of her shoulder blades, the shadow that fell between them.

He rubbed his thumb over the pen cap, imagining the sensation of unhooking that clasp. One finger, maybe two, sliding the plastic tab free. The sound it would make—a soft click—and then the fabric loosening. He pictured the lace pattern, the warmth of her skin beneath. His breathing quickened, but he forced it steady.

The invigilator walked past, and Kang lowered his head, pretending to check his answers. But his eyes kept straying back to her.

Time crawled. Lu Shuran finished the last essay question with ten minutes to spare. She put down her pen and stretched her arms above her head, arching her back. The movement was slow, deliberate. Her T-shirt rode up slightly, baring a sliver of pale skin above the waistband of her skirt. Her chest lifted, the fabric straining over the swell of her breasts. The training bra did little to flatten her; it only emphasized the shape, the soft curve that swelled outward as she held the pose.

She let out a soft sigh, audible only to the two nearest desks. Then she lowered her arms, flexing her fingers as if shaking off stiffness. She didn't turn around, but she could feel his eyes on her. The heat of his gaze was almost physical, pressing against the back of her neck.

Kang's pen slipped. He caught it just as it rolled off the desk. When he straightened up, his hand was trembling slightly. He wet his lips, tasting salt. *Damn it.* He forced his attention back to his paper, but the image of her stretch was burned into his retinas. The way her shirt had pulled taut across her stomach. The way her breasts had pushed against the fabric, defiant and full.

The bell rang. The invigilator collected papers with mechanical efficiency. Lu Shuran gathered her belongings slowly, letting the crowd file out first. Kang stayed seated, pretending to double-check his student ID. When the last few students shuffled past, he stood up and brushed past her, his elbow grazing her shoulder.

"Good luck on the next one," she said, her voice light.

He paused, turning to look at her. Her face was a mask of sweet innocence, but her eyes held a glint he couldn't quite name. "You too," he replied, and his voice came out rougher than he intended.

She smiled, then turned and walked away. He watched her go, the sway of her hips, the way her skirt swished around her thighs. The smell of her lingered—something floral, mixed with the faint musk of exertion. He inhaled deeply, then caught himself. *Later,* he thought. *After the exams.* He would find a way. He always did.

The final exam ended with the shrill ring of the school bell, and the corridor flooded with students letting out collective sighs of relief. Lu Shuran stood by the stairwell, her palms pressed flat against the cold wall to steady herself. Her heart hammered so violently she could feel it in her throat. She scanned the crowd until she spotted him—Kang Peikai, laughing with a group of classmates, his schoolbag slung carelessly over one shoulder. She watched his easy smile, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners. For a moment she almost lost her nerve. Then she saw him glance her way. His gaze lingered, and something flickered there—a knowing glint, a shadow beneath the sunshine.

She moved before she could think. Her legs carried her through the throng, weaving past backpacks and elbows until she stood directly in his path. He stopped, his friends drifting ahead without him. "Lu Shuran?" He tilted his head, a grin playing on his lips. "You looked like you're about to—"

"Come with me." Her voice came out thin, barely above a whisper. She felt the heat flood her cheeks, staining them crimson. Without waiting for his answer, she grabbed his wrist. His skin was warm, his tendons taut with surprise. She tugged, and he stumbled after her.

They pushed through the door to the third-floor women's restroom. The space was empty—the last stragglers already gone home. The air smelled of bleach and damp paper towels. Lu Shuran yanked him inside, slammed the door shut, and twisted the lock. The metallic click echoed off the tiled walls. She leaned against the door, her chest heaving. Her heart was a wild drumbeat against her ribs. She could feel his eyes on her, questioning, curious.

Kang Peikai opened his mouth, but whatever he meant to say died unspoken. Lu Shuran rose on her tiptoes. The world narrowed to the few inches between them. She pressed her lips to his.

It was a clumsy kiss—dry, trembling, desperate. She had never kissed anyone before. Her nose bumped his cheek. Her hands hovered uselessly in the air before landing on his shoulders. For a frozen second, he didn't move. Then his hands found her waist, his fingers curling into the fabric of her uniform shirt. He pulled her closer, and she gasped against his mouth.

The kiss deepened. She felt the slick warmth of his tongue brushing her lower lip, and a shiver raced down her spine. Her mind was a blur of heat and shock at her own audacity. What am I doing? The thought surfaced briefly before being drowned by the electric pressure of his mouth on hers. She could taste mint from the gum he'd been chewing. It was dizzying.

He pulled back just enough to breathe, his forehead resting against hers. His eyes were darker now, the sunlight in them banked into something smoldering. "You don't mess around," he said, his voice low and rough.

Lu Shuran couldn't find words. Her lips tingled. Her knees felt like water. She had never been so terrified, so exhilarated. She had planned nothing beyond this moment. But now that she had his attention—his full, burning attention—she didn't want to let go. She kept her grip on his shoulders, her knuckles white, and whispered, "I've wanted to do that for so long."

His laugh was soft, almost a huff. "Yeah? Me too." He slid his hand up her back, fingers brushing the nape of her neck. She shivered again. "But here? Now?"

"Anywhere," she breathed, surprising herself with the word. "I don't care."

He looked at her for a long moment, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw. Then a slow, predatory smile spread across his face. "Alright," he said. "But if we're doing this, we're doing it my way."

She swallowed. She should have felt afraid. Instead, she felt heat pool low in her belly, a reckless thrill that chased away every rational thought. She nodded, once.

He took her hand and led her to the last stall. The door creaked as he pushed it open. He backed her inside, and she heard the lock click again—this time, a smaller, more intimate sound.

The restroom at the far end of the third-floor hallway was always the quietest. Most students used the ones near the stairwell, so this narrow row of stalls sat under the hum of a flickering fluorescent light, the air thick with bleach and damp concrete. Lu Shuran's heart hammered as she pushed open the door to the last stall, her fingers slick with sweat against the cold metal latch.

She didn't turn to check if anyone had followed. She already knew.

The stall was barely wide enough for two people. The toilet seat was down, the lid chipped and gray. She pressed her back against the cool tiles, let out a shaky breath, and reached for the button of her school pants. Her fingers fumbled—too fast, too clumsy—but she managed to pop the button free and slide the zipper down with a metallic rasp.

Behind her, the stall door clicked shut. The lock slid into place with a soft *thunk*.

Kang Peikai stood there, his chest rising and falling, his usually bright eyes dark and heavy-lidded. He didn't say a word. He just stepped forward, crowding her against the wall, and his hand moved to her waist, slipping past the waistband of her pants and the thin cotton of her underwear.

She gasped. His fingers were warm, trembling slightly, as they brushed against her skin. Lower. She felt the moisture there, the embarrassing evidence of how much she wanted this, and her cheeks flamed. But his breath hitched, and he pressed closer.

"Shuran," he whispered, his voice rough. "You're soaking."

She couldn't answer. She just bit her lip and nodded, her hands gripping his shoulders.

He pushed her underwear aside. The rough pads of his fingers slid against her slick folds, and she bucked against his touch, a strangled sound caught in her throat. He worked her slowly at first, circling, teasing, until her hips rolled in desperate rhythm. Then he pulled his hand away and unbuckled his own belt with frantic motions.

The condom wrapper crinkled. She watched him tear it open with his teeth, roll it on—but she didn't see the tiny pinprick he made with his thumbnail before he sheathed himself. She only saw the hunger in his eyes.

He lifted one of her legs, hooking her knee over his forearm, and pressed her harder against the tile. The cold bit through her shirt. And then he pushed inside her in one slow, burning thrust.

Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. The stretch was sharp, delicious, overwhelming. He filled her completely, and she clung to him, her nails digging into his back through his shirt.

He began to move. Fast. Hard. The stall walls rattled with each thrust. She bit down on his shoulder to keep from crying out as he drove deeper, the angle making her toes curl inside her shoes. His breath was hot against her neck, his movements frantic, pounding, out of control.

"Kai—" she gasped against his shirt.

He kissed her to swallow the sound. His tongue pushed into her mouth, demanding, sloppy, tasting of mint and salt. She kissed him back with equal desperation, her hips meeting his thrusts, her body singing with a pleasure that bordered on pain.

The pressure built. Coiled tight in her belly. She felt it rising, cresting, about to shatter—and then he stiffened. He drove into her one last time, his body shuddering, and she felt the hot pulse of him filling the condom.

Her climax crashed over her, muffled only by the fabric of his shoulder in her mouth.

She bit down hard. The salt of his skin, the faint tang of sweat. His groan vibrated against her lips, pain and pleasure mingled, and he held her there, pressed against the tile, both of them panting in the tiny, humid space.

For a long moment, neither moved. The fluorescent light hummed. Water dripped from a faucet somewhere.

Then he pulled out slowly, and she felt the loss like a hollow ache. He stepped back, disposed of the condom with shaky hands, and tucked himself back into his pants. She pulled up her own underwear and trousers, fumbling with the button, her fingers still trembling.

He looked at her, his usual sunny smile nowhere to be seen. Instead, there was something possessive, something dark, in the way his eyes traced her flushed face.

"Same time tomorrow?" he asked, his voice low.

She swallowed. Nodded. And as she unlocked the stall door and slipped out into the empty hallway, she felt a strange, giddy thrill—mixed with a shiver of something she didn't want to name.

The fluorescent lights of the small supermarket hummed overhead, casting a sterile glow over the narrow aisles. Lu Shuran’s hand trembled as she reached for the box—blue, sleek, with the word “Durex” printed in bold silver letters. Ultra Thin. Her fingertips brushed the cardboard, and she snatched it off the shelf as if stealing something forbidden.

Her face burned. The heat crawled up her neck, settling in her cheeks like a fever. She clutched the box to her chest, hiding it against the fabric of her school uniform, and turned to find Kang Peikai leaning against a nearby shelf, watching her with an amused smirk.

“Done shopping?” he asked, his voice low and casual.

She nodded, unable to speak. The words stuck in her throat. Her heart hammered so loudly she was sure the cashier could hear it.

Kang Peikai walked past her, brushing his shoulder against hers, and she followed him to the counter like a shadow. He placed the box on the checkout belt without a hint of hesitation, alongside a bottle of water and a pack of gum. The cashier, a bored teenager with earbuds in, scanned the items without a second glance.

Lu Shuran stared at her shoes. The tile floor was scuffed. A smear of mud near the edge. She counted the seconds until it was over.

Kang Peikai handed over a crumpled bill, and the cashier slid the box into a thin plastic bag. He took it, and as their hands met, his fingers curled around hers, squeezing gently. The pressure sent a jolt up her arm.

“Your place?” he whispered, so close that his breath tickled her ear.

She looked up. His eyes were dark, playful, but there was something else underneath—a flicker of hunger that made her stomach flip. She nodded, quick and jerky.

“Okay,” she breathed.

He smiled, a slow, satisfied curve of his lips, and released her hand. She flexed her fingers, feeling the ghost of his touch linger like a brand.

Outside, the evening air was thick with summer humidity, carrying the scent of exhaust and flowering trees. Kang Peikai slung the plastic bag over his wrist and walked beside her, his shoulder brushing hers with every step. The silence between them was charged, electric.

Lu Shuran’s mind raced. She had never done anything like this. She was supposed to be studying for the college entrance exams, memorizing formulas and historical dates. Instead, she was leading a boy to her empty apartment, her parents not due home until midnight, a box of condoms swinging from his hand.

She glanced at his profile—sharp jaw, easy stride, the confident set of his shoulders. He was the top student in their grade, the one teachers praised, the one girls whispered about. And he wanted her. The thought made her dizzy, both terrified and thrilled.

“Nervous?” he asked, not looking at her.

“No,” she lied.

He laughed, a soft sound, and reached out to take her hand. His palm was warm, dry, his fingers lacing through hers. “Liar.”

She squeezed back, and they walked the rest of the way in a tangle of fingers and quickened breath.

The afternoon sun slanted through the half-drawn curtains, casting a warm glow across the familiar chaos of Lu Shuran’s bedroom. Textbooks and practice tests lay scattered on the desk, a testament to the pressure that had been building for weeks. But none of that mattered now. The door was locked. The world outside had ceased to exist.

Lu Shuran’s heart hammered against her ribs as she took a shaky breath. She had never done this before—not the act itself, but the initiation. The boldness. It felt like stepping off a cliff, thrilling and terrifying. She glanced at Kang Peikai, who sat on the edge of her bed, his usual sunny composure tempered by something darker in his eyes. He watched her with an intensity that made her stomach flutter.

“Sit here,” she said, her voice softer than she intended. She gestured to the bed, then lowered herself to her knees on the carpeted floor. The plush fibers tickled her bare legs. She felt small, vulnerable, but also powerful. This was her room. Her choice.

From the nightstand drawer, she retrieved a small box of condoms—bought two days ago from a pharmacy three blocks away, where no one would recognize her. Her fingers trembled as she tore the cardboard flap, the crinkle of plastic loud in the quiet room. Inside, a foil wrapper gleamed.

Kang Peikai watched her, his hands resting loosely on his thighs. “You okay?” he asked, his voice low, almost a whisper.

“Yes,” she lied, forcing steadiness into her hands. She tore the wrapper open and pulled out the thin, translucent ring. It felt alien, clinical. She rolled it onto the tip of his erection, fumbling with the unfamiliar motion. The latex stretched, catching on his skin. She bit her lip, concentrating.

Kang Peikai’s breath hitched. He let his gaze trace the line of her jaw, the concentration in her eyes. His fingers twitched. In a motion so subtle it was barely visible, he pinched the tip of the condom, pressing his thumbnail against the soft rubber until he felt a tiny, almost imperceptible tear. No larger than a pinprick. Just enough.

Lu Shuran didn’t notice. She finished rolling it down, then sat back on her heels, satisfied. “There,” she said, a hint of pride in her voice.

He didn’t say anything. He just looked at her, his pupils dilated, a faint flush on his cheeks.

She stood, her knees stiff, and swung a leg over his lap, straddling him. The heat of his body radiated through her thin cotton shorts. She positioned herself, her hands on his shoulders, then sank down.

A gasp escaped her lips. The sensation was sharp, intimate, and overwhelming. A rush of warmth flooded through her, spreading from her core to her limbs. She felt stretched, filled, connected. For a moment, she forgot to breathe.

Kang Peikai’s hands settled on her hips, guiding her, but his touch was gentle. He tilted his head back, a low groan escaping him. The tear in the condom, the slight give, the mingling of their skin—it was exactly what he wanted. He allowed himself to savor the thought: *This is mine. All of mine.*

Lu Shuran began to move, tentative at first, then bolder. The rhythm built, driven by instinct and a hunger she had only ever explored alone, in the dark. Now it was real, shared. She closed her eyes, letting the pleasure wash over her, unaware of the tiny flaw in the protection that would tie them together far longer than this afternoon.

The room was quiet now, the only sound their breathing slowly evening out. Lu Shuran lay on her back, her skin still flushed and damp, her mind a tangle of disbelief and lingering heat. She shifted slightly, and the stickiness between her thighs reminded her of what they had just done. A sharp pang of reality cut through the haze.

She pushed herself up on one elbow, her eyes scanning the bedside table. The wrapper lay crumpled, but the condom itself—she spotted it near the edge of the mattress. Her stomach dropped. She reached for it, her fingers trembling, and held it up to the dim light filtering through the curtains.

A tear. A small but unmistakable tear near the tip.

“Kang Peikai,” she whispered, her voice thin with panic. “It’s broken.”

He was propped against the headboard, one arm draped casually behind his head. He didn’t look alarmed. Instead, a slow smile spread across his lips, and he leaned over, catching her chin with his free hand. Before she could say another word, he pressed his mouth to hers—soft, deliberate, and strangely tender.

“I know,” he murmured against her lips. “I like it this way.”

Her eyes flew open, but his were closed, his lashes dark against his cheeks. He kissed her again, deeper this time, and she felt the panic begin to dissolve into something else. Something hot and confusing. She should be furious. She should be scared. But her body was already responding, softening under his touch.

He pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, his eyes half-lidded and glinting with a satisfaction that made her breath catch. Then he shifted, lowering his head until his cheek brushed against the curve of her breast. He nuzzled into the lace of her bra—still hooked but pushed aside—and inhaled deeply, a long, deliberate breath that made her shiver.

“You know,” he said, his voice muffled against the fabric, “I saw it back in middle school. When you bent over to pick up a pen.” His fingers traced the edge of the bra strap. “I couldn’t stop thinking about it. The way it looked. The way I imagined it smelled.”

Lu Shuran’s face burned. She squeezed her eyes shut, mortification flooding through her. That day came back in a flash—the classroom, the dropped pen, the quick glance she had dismissed as nothing. He had been watching. All this time, he had been watching.

But instead of pushing him away, her hips arched upward, pressing closer to his mouth. A small, shameful sound escaped her throat.

Kang Peikai smiled against her skin.

The night air in the study was thick with the mingled scents of old paper and the faint musk that clung to the sofa cushions. Lu Shuran’s breath caught as Kang Peikai’s mouth traced a slow, deliberate path along the edge of her bra strap. His lips were warm, almost reverent at first, pressing soft kisses against the lace trim where it met her skin. She felt the fabric shift as he hooked a finger under the cup and pushed it upward, baring the underside of her breast to the cool air. A shiver ran through her, tightening her nipples. He nuzzled against the lace edge, his tongue flicking out to taste the salt on her collarbone before dragging down to the sensitive curve where the cloth ended.

“Kai,” she whispered, her voice trembling, half protest and half plea. She didn’t want him to stop.

He lifted his head just enough to meet her eyes. In the dim lamplight, his smile was soft, but there was something sharp behind it, like a blade wrapped in silk. “What?” he asked, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw. “You don’t like this?”

She shook her head, unable to form words. Her heart hammered against her ribs as he lowered his mouth again, this time taking the peak of her breast between his lips through the thin cotton. The wet heat of his mouth soaked through, and she gasped, her fingers threading into his hair. She could feel his tongue circling, teasing, and then he sucked gently, pulling the fabric taut. The sensation was maddening, a dull ache that bloomed into something urgent. She arched into him, her body moving of its own accord.

He released her with a soft pop and looked down at the dark patch on the lace. “You’re already wet through this,” he murmured, almost to himself. His thumb brushed over the damp fabric, and she jerked at the contact. “Shuran…” He said her name like a question, but his hands were already working the clasp of her bra. It fell away, and she was bare before him, her full breasts heavy and exposed. He inhaled sharply, his gaze darkening. “God, you’re beautiful.”

She should have felt exposed, vulnerable, but instead a surge of power ran through her. She watched his eyes roam over her, saw the hunger he tried to hide behind his gentle facade. And she wanted to feed that hunger. Without thinking, she pushed at his chest, forcing him flat on the sofa. He went willingly, a surprised laugh escaping him. Then she swung her leg over him, straddling his hips. The denim of his jeans pressed against her bare thighs, and she could feel the hard ridge of him through the layers.

“Shuran?” His voice was rough now, the control slipping.

She didn’t answer. Instead, she reached down and fumbled with his belt, her fingers clumsy with need. He helped her, pushing his jeans and boxers down just enough to free himself. She took him in her hand, guiding him, and then she sank down in one slow, shuddering motion. The fullness of him made her gasp, her head falling back as she adjusted to the stretch. He gripped her hips, his fingers digging into her flesh, and she began to move.

The rhythm was hers to set. She rose and fell, her thighs burning, sweat beading on her forehead and trickling down the column of her neck. The drops slid between her breasts, gleaming in the low light. He watched them, mesmerized, his breath coming in harsh pants. She leaned forward, bracing her hands on his chest, and changed the angle. A sharp jolt of pleasure shot through her, and she cried out, her pace quickening. The sound of their bodies slapping together filled the room, punctuated by her ragged breaths. She felt powerful, in control, even as her muscles began to tremble from exertion.

He bucked up into her, meeting her rhythm, and she felt the coil inside her tighten. Her nails raked down his chest, leaving pink lines on his skin. “Kai… I’m…”

“I know,” he groaned, his hands sliding up her sides to cup her breasts. He squeezed, rolling her nipples between his fingers, and the added stimulation pushed her over the edge. Her orgasm crashed through her, fierce and blinding. She clenched around him, her body convulsing, and she heard him gasp her name as he followed her, his hips jerking upward.

For a long moment, there was only the sound of their breathing, ragged and mingled. She collapsed forward, her forehead resting against his, a shaky laugh escaping her. “That was… I didn’t know I could…”

He kissed her, soft and lingering. “You’re full of surprises.”

She lay there, sated, her body heavy and warm. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she felt him soften inside her. Sleep pulled at her, but before she could drift off, she felt his hand slide down her back, tracing the dip of her spine. Then he shifted beneath her, and she felt a familiar stir against her thigh. He was hard again.

“Kai,” she murmured, not opening her eyes. “We just…”

“I know,” he said, his voice low and apologetic. “I can’t help it.” He kissed her temple, then her cheek, then the corner of her mouth. “You make me crazy.”

She should have said no. She was exhausted, her muscles aching, her mind foggy. But his lips found her throat, and a fresh wave of heat pooled low in her belly. She turned her head to give him better access, and he took the invitation. His hand moved between her legs, finding her slick and ready despite the lingering aftershocks. He entered her again, this time from behind, as he guided her onto her hands and knees. The new angle was deeper, pressing against a spot that made her see stars. She buried her face in the sofa cushion, muffling her moans, as he drove into her with steady, relentless strokes. The second time came quicker, a sharp, gasping release that left her limp and trembling.

By the third time, she was barely conscious of her own body. Her limbs felt like water, her mind a distant haze. He had turned her onto her back, her legs draped over his shoulders, and he was moving inside her with a slow, grinding intensity that she couldn’t fight. Every nerve was raw, oversensitive, but he didn’t stop. His face was tight with concentration, sweat dripping from his chin onto her chest.

“Kai… please…” She didn’t know if she was begging him to stop or to finish.

He leaned down, pressing his lips to her ear. “Just a little more,” he breathed. “You can take it.”

And she did. She let him use her body, too worn out to resist, too lost in the haze of pleasure-pain to care. Her third orgasm, when it came, was a weak, pathetic thing, a mere shudder that barely registered. But he seemed satisfied. He pulled out at the last second, spilling across her stomach with a guttural cry. Then he collapsed beside her, his hand splaying across the warm, sticky skin of her belly.

The silence stretched. The clock on the wall ticked softly. Lu Shuran stared at the ceiling, her mind blank. She could feel the sweat cooling on her body, the ache between her thighs, the weight of his hand on her. Somewhere deep inside, a voice whispered that this was too much, that she had lost control. But the voice was very far away. She turned her head and looked at him. His eyes were closed, his lips parted, his chest rising and falling in deep, even breaths.

She reached out and traced the line of his jaw. He smiled without opening his eyes and caught her hand, bringing her fingers to his lips. “Good?” he asked.

“Good,” she echoed, though the word felt hollow. She didn’t know what she felt. But when he pulled her closer, she let her head rest on his shoulder, and she closed her eyes. The night was not over, but for now, she was too tired to think.