“When did you get wet?” he murmured, his voice husky with an unfamiliar magnetism, the low rumble of a man ar0used, a sound meant only for the ears of a lover. His fingers continued to knead her sensitive flesh as he questioned her intimately.

Shaking her head, unable to keep pace with his teasing, Xia Yao looked at him innocently. 

“Wet? What’s wet?”

A soft chuckle escaped his lips. “Touch it,” he instructed, guiding her fingers to the damp spot.

Her fingertips trembled as they brushed against the warm, spreading slickness between her thighs. She had actually gotten wet for Zhou Ye, just like that. Lowering her head, a tremor ran through her; her snow-white skin, bathed in the dim light, took on a sensual glow.

Zhou Ye continued to knead the curve of her lower back with the heel of his hand, pressing his hardened length against her thigh through his sweatpants. His fingers still danced between her folds.

“I want to rub against you,” he confessed, gripping his considerable er3ction and grinding the tip against her wetness through the fabric. “Is that okay?”

“Like this? Through our clothes?” she asked, glancing up at him.

The tips of his ears flushed. “I’ll take my clothes off. Do you want to see?”

The image of him leaning against the window flashed through her mind, and her heart plummeted, then hammered against her ribs.

“Yes,” she whispered, her voice soft and sweet.

Zhou Ye’s gaze dropped as he stepped back, effortlessly peeling off his shirt and tossing it aside. He then shrugged out of his sweatpants, the drawstring swaying briefly before the pants and his underwear landed in a heap.

His smooth skin stretched over a long, lean frame, a young body brimming with raw, untamed power. His waist was firm, muscles taut and defined. 

A thatch of dark hair nestled at the base of his thick, long c*ck, which dipped slightly under its own weight, the tip still tilted upwards at a fierce angle. Prominent veins snaked along its length, lending it an undeniable, savage grandeur.

Zhou Ye glanced down at his unruly er3ction, then back up at her. “Will this… bother you?”

“Bother me? What do you mean?”

“This,” he clarified, stroking himself, the veins pulsing and throbbing down towards his v-lines. 

His c*ck was clean, mostly the same color as his skin, the tip flushed a delicate pink, the kind of sight no girl could find repulsive. It was deceptively alluring, masking its impressive size. For a young woman like her, it was truly enormous.

“I’ve heard girls are sometimes disgusted the first time they see a guy’s… you know. They want to turn off the lights.” He gave a self-deprecating chuckle, his face betraying none of the uncertainty churning within him.

Xia Yao looked at Zhou Ye. He was just like her, nak3d and exposed, yet he seemed even more nervous than she was, just like that afternoon he’d pulled her out of class to confess his feelings. 

Her own shyness had dissipated under his gentle touch, but his body had yet to receive her acceptance.

She moved closer, her gaze fixed on his er3ction. Reaching out, she ran her fingertips along its length, then wrapped her hands around it. 

“It’s so swollen and shiny here at the tip. Does it hurt being like this all the time?” she asked softly, her thumb brushing against the crown.

His c*ck twitched in her grasp, leaping against her touch. The potent, restless desire of youth surged through him. He swallowed, a flicker of shame warming his cheeks, but he couldn’t resist leaning closer to her.

A low groan rumbled in his throat. “Yes,” he rasped, his voice thick with need. “It keeps me awake at night…”

“Where does it feel good when I touch you?” she asked.

Zhou Ye took her hand, guiding her to his most sensitive points.

Xia Yao, clumsy but patient, learned how to pleasure him. One hand cupped his t3sticles while the other gently massaged the ridge beneath the head, occasionally grazing the fr3nulum. 

Her soft fingers, usually so pristine, now rubbed against the most sensitive parts of his body. Zhou Ye tilted his head back, his eyes unfocused, a low moan escaping his lips.

Just before the spasms wracked his stomach and back, he caught her wrist, his throat bobbing as he pulled her hand away.

“Okay,” he breathed, his eyes flushed. “I’ll carry you to bed.”