Chapter 326: Lin Ruoli’s Threats

The orgasm hit her like a lightning strike, a brutal, blinding flash of pure sensation that vaporized every coherent thought in her head. Her body was no longer her own. It was a vessel for a storm, a wild, bucking thing that convulsed and shuddered in Alaric’s lap, her back arching, her nails digging into his shoulders. A raw, ragged scream tore from her throat, the sound of a soul being ripped apart by a pleasure so intense it was indistinguishable from agony.

As the last, shuddering aftershocks of the climax rippled through her exhausted limbs, a single, desperate, and utterly defiant thought managed to claw its way through the fog of her shattered mind. A threat. It was all she had left.

“My husband,” she gasped out, her voice a ragged, broken thing, each word a monumental effort between shuddering breaths. “General Bao… he’s a Martial King!”

She tried to put some force into the words, to make them sound like a warning, but they just came out as a desperate, breathless plea.

“He’s… he’s one step from being an Emperor himself! His army… his army will grind your little kingdom… into dust!”

Alaric, who had been holding her fast through the storm of her climax, lifted his head. His own face was flushed with a wild, predatory excitement, his ruby eyes glowing with a manic fire. The threat didn’t scare him. It didn’t even give him pause. It was like throwing gasoline on a raging fire. Her raw, powerful orgasm, combined with her defiant, desperate words, had visibly, undeniably, aroused him even more.

“A Martial King, you say?” he purred, his voice a low, excited growl that rumbled through his chest and vibrated into her very bones. He licked a stray drop of her wetness from his lips, a slow, deliberate gesture of supreme ownership. “Excellent. I do so love a challenge.”

With a single, powerful movement, he pushed her up, turning her in his lap so she was facing him, straddling his thighs. Her magnificent, heavy breasts swayed with the movement, their pink, pebble-hard nipples brushing against the fine fabric of his shirt.

Before she could even get her bearings, he leaned forward and captured one of her nipples between his teeth. He didn’t bite down hard, but it was a sharp, possessive claiming, just enough pressure to send a fresh jolt of pleasure-pain through her already over-sensitized body.

“Aaaah!” she cried out, her back arching again, pushing her breast deeper into his mouth.

He released her nipple, leaving a small, red mark on her pale skin, a brand of his ownership. “And his army?” he continued, his voice a low, dismissive chuckle as his hands began to roam freely over her naked, trembling body. They weren’t just exploring now; they were claiming. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of her waist, his thumbs rubbing lazy circles on her stomach. “I’ve broken armies before. It gets a little boring after a while, you know?”

He started kissing her neck, his lips hot and demanding, leaving a trail of wet heat on her skin. He nipped at her pulse point, a playful, predatory gesture that made her gasp.

She tried to turn her head away, to deny him even this small victory. “Don’t… don’t touch me…”

He just chuckled, holding the back of her head fast, his fingers tangled in her silky black hair. “Now, why would I do that? We’re just getting to the fun part.”

She could feel his erection, a thick, hard ridge of steel pressing insistently against the soft cleft of her buttocks. It was a constant, undeniable reminder of his intentions, of the inevitable conclusion to this horrifying, thrilling game.

“You think that simple brute knows how to please a woman like you?” he whispered in her ear, his voice a venomous, hypnotic poison seeping directly into her mind. “A big, strong warrior like him… he probably treats you like a porcelain doll. Fragile. Something to be protected. Something to put on a shelf and admire.”

He punctuated his words by grabbing a handful of her jiggly buttock, squeezing the soft flesh hard.

“But you’re not a doll, are you, Ruoli?” he growled, his voice thick with a raw, hungry lust. “You’re a woman. A magnificent, passionate woman who needs to be taken. To be dominated. To be fucked like you deserve.”

His words were a direct, brutal assault on the very foundation of her marriage. Her husband, her dear Bao, did treat her with respect. He treated her with a gentle, almost reverent, love. He cherished her. And she loved him for it. She loved the safety, the warmth, the unwavering devotion in his eyes.

But Alaric’s touch, his raw, aggressive, and unbelievably skillful passion, was awakening a part of her she never knew existed. A dark, hungry, and deeply shameful part that was thrilling to the raw, unapologetic dominance he offered. A part that was tired of being cherished and yearned to be… consumed.

A low, involuntary moan escaped her lips as his hands continued their expert exploration. He was mapping her body, learning her every secret, every sensitive spot, with a terrifying, intuitive skill. His fingers traced the delicate line of her collarbone, slid down into the valley between her breasts, and then moved to her back, his thumbs pressing into the sensitive muscles along her spine, making her shiver and melt against him.

“He gives you love,” Alaric whispered, his voice a hypnotic caress that was more dangerous than any shout. “A safe, predictable, boring kind of love. The kind that tucks you in at night.”

His hand slid lower, his fingers tracing the swell of her hip, dipping into the soft dimple at the base of her spine.

“I offer you pleasure,” he continued, his voice a low, seductive growl. “Raw, unadulterated pleasure. The kind that makes you scream and beg for more. The kind that leaves you broken and remade. The kind a ’good man’ like him could never even dream of giving you.”

He was not just seducing her body; he was seducing her mind. He was masterfully reframing her husband’s love, the very thing she cherished most, as a weakness. A failing. He was recasting her gentle, loving husband as a boring, incompetent lover, and himself, a monster, as the one who truly understood her deepest, darkest desires.

And she hated him for it.

She hated him with a passion that was as fierce and as hot as the lust he was stoking within her. She hated him for being so arrogant, so cruel. And she hated him, with a deep, burning shame, because on some level, on a purely physical, carnal level… he was right.

Her husband was a wonderful man. He was kind, and strong, and he loved her with all his heart. But he was not a masterful lover like this. Their lovemaking was a gentle, comfortable act of mutual affection. This… this was a different level of existence entirely. This was a symphony of pure, selfish sensation, and Alaric was the conductor, playing her body like a finely tuned instrument.

She could feel herself starting to get enamored, to fall under his spell. It was terrifying. His charm, his absolute, unshakeable confidence, his sheer, overwhelming skill… it was a potent, intoxicating, and utterly deadly combination.

’No,’ her mind screamed, even as her body melted against him, her head falling back, giving him better access to her neck. ’I love Bao. He is my husband. He is a good man. This man is a monster.’

But the monster’s touch was exquisite.

He found the sensitive spot just behind her earlobe, a place she didn’t even know was sensitive, and licked it with the tip of his tongue. A violent, full-body shiver wracked her frame. Her back arched, her breasts pressing hard against his chest, her nipples two points of fire.

She was losing. She was losing the battle for her own body, for her own will. The physical pleasure was becoming a tidal wave, a roaring, all-consuming thing that was threatening to drown the last, struggling remnants of her loyalty, of her very self. She was adrift in a sea of pure, mindless sensation, and he was the only thing holding her up.

He felt her surrender. He felt the last vestiges of her resistance begin to dissolve under his relentless assault. He shifted her in his lap, his intentions clear. He was going to kiss her. To claim her mouth, the last bastion of her defiance.

As his lips, still tasting of her, descended towards hers, a final, desperate surge of will, of love for her husband, roared to life within her.

She had to stop him.

She turned her head away at the last possible second, a sharp, violent wrenching motion. His lips, which had been aimed for hers, landed on her cheek instead. It was a small victory, a pathetic act of defiance, but it was hers.

She needed an anchor. Something to hold onto in this storm of sensation and manipulation. Something pure. Something real.

A memory flashed in her mind, a beacon of light in the encroaching darkness.

Her husband, General Bao, returning from a three-month campaign on the northern border. He was caked in dust and grime, his armor dented, a fresh scar on his cheek. He was battle-worn and utterly, completely exhausted. But his eyes, when they landed on her, lit up with a light so pure, so full of love, that it had taken her breath away. He hadn’t rushed to grab her, to take her with the lust of a long-absent soldier. He had walked to her, slowly, reverently, and his large, calloused hands, hands that could crush a man’s skull, had gently, so gently, cupped her face as if she were the most precious, most fragile treasure in the entire world.

“My Ruoli,” he had whispered, his voice thick with emotion, his thumb stroking her cheek. “My heart is home.”

The purity of that memory, the sheer, unconditional, and utterly selfless love in it, was a bucket of ice water on the raging, selfish fire Alaric had kindled within her.

That was love. That was real. This… this was just a violation. A beautiful, exquisite, and masterful violation, but a violation nonetheless.

She gritted her teeth, a fresh wave of strength, of resolve, flooding her veins. She bit the inside of her cheek, hard. The sharp, coppery taste of blood was a grounding pain, a focal point in the overwhelming sea of pleasure.

She had one last weapon.

It was a terrible weapon. A secret that would ruin her reputation, a truth that could very well get her killed. But it was all she had left to protect the last, tattered shred of her purity, of her loyalty to the man whose heart called her home.

It was a threat so great, so absolute, that even a monster like Alaric Steele, a man who laughed at armies and mocked Martial Kings, would have to heed it.

“STOP!” she screamed, the word tearing from her throat, raw with desperation and a newfound, frantic strength. She shoved against his chest with all her might, actually managing to create an inch of space between them.

“You can’t! I belong to the Emperor!”

Alaric froze.

His lips, which had been hovering just inches from hers, stopped. His hands, which had been caressing her skin, went still. His entire body, which had been a fluid, predatory thing, locked up. He looked at her, and for the first time since he had entered the room, the mocking, confident amusement was gone from his eyes. It was replaced by a look of genuine, unadulterated shock.

“What did you say?” he asked, his voice a low, dangerous whisper, utterly devoid of its earlier charm.

The words tumbled out of her in a frantic, panicked rush of confession, her last, desperate, world-shattering gamble.

“I am Emperor Huang’s secret mistress!” she blurted out, the secret a poison on her tongue, but a poison she was willing to drink if it would save her. “He took me! He owns me! If you do this… if you touch what belongs to him… he won’t send an army! He will come for you personally, and he will kill you!”

She stared at him, her chest heaving, her magnificent, naked breasts rising and falling with her ragged breaths. Her eyes were wide with a mixture of terror at what she had just confessed, and a final, desperate, incandescent hope that the name of a living, breathing Martial Emperor was a shield even this devil could not, would not, dare to break.