The man's black robe fell to the floor as he leaned in.
The girl's white robe slipped down slowly, landing neatly atop the black one.
Gu Chengyu had never lost control like this before.
The girl in his arms was too delicate, too soft—her purity mixed with an unconscious allure that shattered his famed self-restraint. With other women, he’d always been composed, indifferent, letting them do the work.
But now, he could barely hold back. Though she was clearly inexperienced, she had him utterly entranced.
"!!!" Her slender fingers clutched the sheets.
Instinctively, she resisted, trying to escape the overwhelming sensation.
This intensity was something Gu Chengyu had never known.
Just the beginning alone—so unfamiliar—was enough to break his last shred of control. He only wanted more, rougher...
His phoenix eyes locked onto her tear-streaked face.
That fragile beauty only drove him wilder.
"Sweetheart, you're incredible," he murmured, voice thick with unrestrained desire.
He lowered his head, lips brushing her neck, breath hot. "Tell me what you want. Hmm? I'll give you anything."
His words were coaxing, but his actions were relentless.
He watched her brows knit in distress, her innocent features now painted with the colors he’d drawn from her—utterly intoxicating.
Gently, he kissed away the tears rolling down her cheeks.
"Be good, tell me," he rasped, softening slightly to distract her.
"Quit being an assistant, alright? I’ll pour money into you—find the best directors, make you a star. How’s that?"
He dangled a dream most women would kill for, offering it freely, without her even asking.
Su Qianqian’s mind was hazy, but a stubborn sliver of clarity made her shake her head. Weak sobs punctuated her refusal: "N-no... I don’t want your help... I’ll... I’ll get there myself..."
"Heh, silly girl."
Her defiance amused him.
He captured her protesting lips, muffling her words as he nipped at their redness. "Then a mansion? The most expensive jewelry? Hmm?"
"Ugh... I just want you to stop," she whimpered, trembling.
Her small hands pushed uselessly against his chest, nails leaving faint marks on his skin—hardly more than a tickle.
"P-please, Young Master Gu... no more."
His voice was rough with need, still coaxing: "Be good, don’t fight it..."
Su Qianqian gasped for air, only feeling it grow worse. Her dazed eyes welled with tears, the tip of her nose flushed pitifully red.
She shook her head, voice breaking: "Young Master Gu... it’s too much."
"Please... stop? I’m begging you."
The way she called for him—like a helpless little thing pushed to her limits—did nothing to calm him. Instead, it poured fuel on the fire, burning away his last traces of reason.
"Not a chance, sweetheart," he chuckled darkly, voice scorched by hunger.
"And baby, saying no now? You might as well kill me."
His strong arm slid beneath her, locking around her shoulders, trapping her delicate body against him.
"Wuu..." She cried helplessly, too new to this to withstand his expertise.
"Young Master Gu... Gu Chengyu..."
"Qianqian’s so tired... so scared..."
Hearing his full name in that sweet, trembling voice sent a jolt through him. She had no idea—just the sound of her could melt him.
Gu Chengyu looked down at the tearful, fragile girl in his arms.
With a deep breath, his large hand covered hers where it gripped the sheets, prying her fingers loose one by one before interlacing them and pinning her wrist to the pillow.
He bent close, forehead to forehead, nose brushing hers.
His voice was low, laced with unconscious tenderness: "Shh, don’t be afraid. It’s alright."
He kissed the salt from her lashes. "You’re too delicate. It’s normal for your first time..."
His kisses gentled, tracing her fluttering eyelids, the slope of her nose, before returning to her swollen lips in slow, soothing caresses.
"Stay with me a while longer, and you’ll adjust," he murmured—still commanding.
"Ah—" Her broken sob clawed at his heart like a kitten’s paw.
He studied her tear-streaked face, so pitifully ruined.
"Sweetheart," he sighed, voice thick with helpless fascination.
One hand cradled her neck, tilting her face up to meet his kiss, while the other gripped her slender waist.
"Just... a little more... then it’ll be better."
The promise was vague, but his actions grew fiercer.
He was addicted—to the intensity, to her delicate, pleading vulnerability.
The night was long.
And a man’s promises in bed were never to be trusted.
The mattress dipped again.
Springs creaked under the strain.
Her soft cries and the sounds of their passion lingered in the lavish suite, unending.
