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Nothing is hotter than watching a woman fall apart under her hands.
Wen Qing isn’t picky with her lovers but likes them best writhing under her hips, cries and pleas on their lips as she fucks into them. There is power in seeing it with the men—their eyes wide and nervous on her strap, fingers twisting in sheets, crying out in pleasure in minutes. Oh, how they cry. Oh, how they beg.
But women. Women are something special.
Wen Qing loves the soft skin, the sweet bodies. She loves letting her tongue and teeth pay special attention to the best parts—the inner thighs, the wrists, the throat.
Women are sensitive in the most beautiful places.
Jiang Yanli is especially sensitive. And loud.
Jiang Yanli is the darling of a sect, a pretty package to be tied up with a bow and shipped off to marry someone very important. She keeps her head down and her voice quiet—from the moment she showed up on Wen Qing’s doorstep with her dumbass brothers half a step from death, Wen Qing had to swallow down the irrational instinct to shake her, to goad her into raising her chin. Jiang Yanli holds the power of a great sect in her blood and bones but she had been brainwashed. She was too prim and proper and it makes Wen Qing want to watch her shatter.
It hadn’t taken much; it rarely does. Wen Qing knows this game, plays it with a clever smile and crafty fingers. Wen Qing has made powerful men fall to their knees—she knew it would not be a challenge to tempt the wide-eyed Jiang Yanli.
It began with lingering glances, soft bites on her lower lip for Jiang Yanli to notice. It was lingering eyes and obvious clues, watching Jiang Yanli’s breath speed up when she looked at Wen Qing’s lips. Wen Qing was no thief so she waited for Jiang Yanli to come to her, shy and a little stricken and her chest rising and falling with every heavy breath.
The kisses were sloppy at first, messy and rough. Her hands fumbled, restless and inexperienced; it was as if she wanted to touch everything but didn’t know how, too afraid to let her touch linger. Wen Qing had enjoyed teaching Jiang Yanli all the best ways to touch, her pretty lips parted as she panted Wen Qing’s name. That is always Wen Qing’s favorite part—how they gasp for her, how they always beg for more.
She is not a sex god. She doesn’t need to be. She watches Jiang Yanli fall apart under her and knows the gods are not watching.
Jiang Yanli had spread her legs so easily for her. Wen Qing made a home between her thighs, decided she would be the one to teach Jiang Yanli all the ways to expect her gift-wrapped husband-to-be to use his cock. Decided she would teach Jiang Yanli how to ruin him if she chooses to use one herself.
But Wen Qing does not care about husbands and betrothals. She pulls out to the tip of her strap, watches the girl under her moan and whine and writhe; she lets her gasp and plead for a moment before she thrusts in hard enough to send Jiang Yanli howling, Wen Qing’s fingertips dancing in pretty patterns against her clit.
“Jiejie,” Jiang Yanli gasps and oh—Wen Qing hasn’t heard that one yet out of this pretty mouth. Jiang Yanli grinds back against her, moans wanton and sweet. “Jiejie, please, I need more, I want more.”
“You don’t even know what more is,” Wen Qing teases her, pressing soft kisses along her shoulders. She lets her teeth dig into the skin, makes the beautiful woman beneath her gasp. She makes an indignant whining sound, a noise like a brat who wants their way. Petulant. Spoiled.
On her hands and knees, swallowing Wen Qing’s strap with eager rolls of her hips, Jiang Yanli does not look like a princess.
“Tell me what you want, baby girl,” Wen Qing murmurs, finger running down Jiang Yanli’s spine. She shudders, gasps and moans at the involuntary movement of her hips. Wen Qing doesn’t move, lets the sweet darling of the Jiang sect desperately fuck back against her, crying out at every thrust. Wen Qing curls her fingers into her hips hard enough to leave bruises and Jiang Yanli keens.
“Harder,” Jiang Yanli begs, head thrown back. “Harder, harder, jiejie, please.”
So Wen Qing fucks into her harder, slams into her hard enough to send her sliding up the bed, crying out louder than she’d ever raise her pretty voice to powerful men. Wen Qing watches Jiang Yanli’s hands curl into the sheets and watches her little twitches and knows she would be a fucking storm, if she ever dared. Jiang Yanli might be her father’s darling but she had her mother’s static charge.
Jiang Yanli’s thighs start to tremble, uncontrollable. She gasps in air, desperate, hands gripping the sheets even harder.
“I’m going to—” she gasps brokenly, can’t stumble her way to the end of her sentence, can’t say those dirty little words on those refined lips.
Wen Qing pulls out. Jiang Yanli gasps as she’s manhandled onto her back, looks up at Wen Qing with cloudy eyes and that beautiful mouth open as she pants. Her hips keep twitching, spastic little thrusts. She whimpers at Wen Qing, spreading her legs.
“No, no, so close,” she gasps, grabbing for her hips. “Please, please, almost there, let me—”
“No,” Wen Qing tells her. She grabs Jiang Yanli’s wrists, manipulates them until she can hold them in one hand above her head. Jiang Yanli doesn’t fight back in earnest but she does continue to whimper, legs shaking.
Wen Qing tightens her hold on her wrists and Jiang Yanli’s pretty mouth opens just a bit wider like she wants to cry yes.
“You’ll cum when I say you can,” Wen Qing whispers, leaning forward to press butterfly kisses all along Jiang Yanli’s throat. Her whole body trembles under hers, legs spread so wide and desperate for her cock.
Wen Qing places her fingernail against the soft skin between Jiang Yanli’s breasts. Digs in hard.
“You should thank me,” she murmurs, “for letting you cum at all.”
“Thank you,” Jiang Yanli is quick to cry, stumbles over her words and moans as Wen Qing drags a mark down her chest, onto her stomach. “Thank you!”
Wen Qing lets her finger travel a little further down, not far enough. Jiang Yanli trembles and trembles. “I could just leave you here, like this. Shaking, begging for me, on the edge. I could order you to keep your hands just like this, your legs spread. Empty, begging for me. You should thank me, Jiang Yanli, for being merciful.”
“Thank you, oh, thank you—”
Wen Qing dips her finger down, slides from her clit to her folds. Jiang Yanli’s toes curl.
“So wet,” Wen Qing murmurs, leaning down to bite marks at the little princess’s throat. Jiang Yanli is so good, learning the rules, keeps her legs spread and her hips against the mattress and her mouth wide open so Wen Qing can hear her crying out. “Jiang Yanli. Use your words and tell me what you want.”
Jiang Yanli is power and privilege and real human kindness. If she does not learn how to raise her voice, it will never be heard. If she does not learn to ask for what she wants, she will never get it.
Wen Qing teaches her that now. Can’t wait to see the way the world bows down to the power of Jiang Yanli’s lungs.
“Fuck me,” Jiang Yanli begs, overstimulated tears in her eyes. “Hard, please, please, I need you to fuck me. I want to cum, I want—”
Wen Qing enters her in one movement; she’s so wet it’s easy, so desperate and willing. Jiang Yanli cries out so sweet and loud, arches her back and uses Wen Qing’s pressure on her wrists to keep it arched.
So desperate. So greedy. She’s asked for what she wants and deserves a reward.
Wen Qing gives her exactly what she wants. She pounds into Jiang Yanli with harsh movements, the slap of skin filling the room, an undertone for the beautiful ways Jiang Yanli cries out. Wen Qing shifts the angle just a little and Jiang Yanli’s mouth opens in a silent scream, body shaking like she may fall apart.
Oh how Wen Qing wants to watch her fall apart.
Wen Qing releases Jiang Yanli’s wrists, touches her clit with expert fingers.
“Cum, Yanli,” Wen Qing command into her ear, lets her teeth catch on the soft skin. “Let me hear you.”
Jiang Yanli screams.
The fabric under her fingers rips and her body comes full off the bed, grinding down against Wen Qing’s hips with benedictions and thanks, tears rolling down her pretty face. Jiang Yanli’s eyes roll back into her head and her entire body shakes as her orgasm rips through her, ecstasy and poetry in motion. She slumps back against the bed, gasping and wrecked. Her pretty face is covered in tears, drool.
Jiang Yanli tightens when Wen Qing goes to pull out. She laughs, kisses the skin behind Jiang Yanli’s ear.
“I think we’re done for tonight, beautiful,” Wen Qing murmurs, pulls back far enough to kiss her forehead. Jiang Yanli’s eyes are still unfocused but she tilts her chin up, a silent demand. Wen Qing laughs against her mouth, lets Jiang Yanli lead a messy, clumsy, mindless kiss.
Finally, her legs relax. Wen Qing pulls out, pecking kisses on every part of Jiang Yanli’s pretty body she can reach.
“Good girl, so good for me,” Wen Qing murmurs into warm, sleepy skin. “Tell me what you need, anything you need.”
Jiang Yanli blinks up at her. Opens her arms in clear invitation.
Wen Qing’s heart skips the tiniest beat.
Oh. That’s new, too.
“In a minute,” she murmurs with a laugh. “Let me clean you up first.”
Jiang Yanli pouts, just a slight movement of her bottom lip. Wen Qing bites it gently before backing away, pausing just a breath away as she watches the flutter of Jiang Yanli’s eyelashes. Stares at the mess they made.
Wen Qing doesn’t usually help herself to seconds. But when the morning comes, she might well just have to make an exception for Jiang Yanli.