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Chapter 9
The Bed That’s Hard to Get Into
In the suite, Jiang Yucheng lazily took off his jacket.
Behind him, the girl watched his tall, lean figure and flushed slightly. She walked up and wrapped her arms around his waist from behind.
“Sir… let me help you.”
Jiang Yucheng lowered his gaze slightly. The girl knelt in front of him and began undoing his belt. Her fingers were short and soft, nails neatly painted a pale pink—she gave off a clean, innocent impression at first glance.
When she reached for his zipper, Jiang Yucheng suddenly caught her hand. He flattened her fingers and pressed them—through his suit pants—against his dormant arousal.
The girl bit her lip and began to stroke him. Five minutes passed, and she was already sweating lightly. But under her touch, he was only half-hard.
She glanced up carefully.
His jawline was sharp, his eyes deep and unreadable. There wasn’t even a trace of desire on his face.
Gritting her teeth, she grew bolder—unzipping him completely and taking him into her mouth.
One hand held the shaft she couldn’t fully take in, stroking slowly; the other teased his scrotum with hesitant patience. Still, he showed little response. His body refused to fully harden.
Tears welled in her eyes. She pulled back slightly and whispered, breathless, “Mr. Jiang…”
Jiang Yucheng’s eyes were half-lidded. He reached up and fastened his belt again.
That woman… had set a trap for him.
And somehow, he still couldn’t refuse it.
In the private lounge, Zhong Qi tapped her fingers rhythmically against her knee.
“Qiu Yang,” she said, tilting her head.
He Qiuyang immediately stepped forward and bent down to listen.
“Anyone who doesn’t want to go upstairs,” Zhong Qi said calmly, “you personally see them out.”
He Qiuyang nodded.
Zhong Qi stood up and left without another word.
The young man beside them couldn’t help reaching out. “Chairwoman Zhong…”
He hadn’t even finished speaking. How had his chance slipped away this fast?
He Qiuyang pressed a hand on his shoulder and forced him back into his seat.
“If you want shortcuts,” he said flatly, “pick the right target. You’re not qualified to stand next to the Chairwoman.”
Zhong Qi returned to her room.
She opened the door and stepped inside, just about to close it—when a hand suddenly appeared in the gap, forcing its way in and pushing the door wide open.
Jiang Yucheng strode in.
Without a word, he grabbed her waist and pinned her against the wall, lowering his head to kiss her.
His tongue forced into her mouth, sweeping across her teeth before tangling roughly with hers, as if he intended to completely consume her.
Zhong Qi’s tongue went numb from the intensity. She lifted a long leg between his, pressing her knee against his arousal and grinding lightly.
Feeling him gradually harden, she let out a low laugh.
Jiang Yucheng’s eyes darkened. He bit down on her lower lip and pulled back sharply, silencing her smile.
Breathing rough, he lifted her and threw her onto the bed, parting her legs and lifting her white skirt.
A white lace thong clung to her, the delicate fabric framing her body—soft, faintly revealing the hidden warmth beneath.
Zhong Qi had that kind of ability—she could make white look indecently alluring.
Jiang Yucheng leaned down and hooked the straps aside. His finger traced slowly along the seam, circling the damp warmth that was already beginning to swell.
The soft flesh trembled under his touch.
When he pushed one finger inside, Zhong Qi grabbed his tie.
Jiang Yucheng braced himself on the bed and looked down at her. His gaze locked onto hers, allowing her to pull—tightening the tie until it was stretched into a straight line.
He didn’t move.
His voice was low and rough. “If you don’t want me to fuck you to death, Chairwoman Zhong, you’d better let go.”
Zhong Qi propped herself up slightly, one leg bent, eyes lowered as she met his dark gaze.
“I have a piece of advice for you too, Mr. Jiang.”
She leaned in a little, steadying herself with one hand on the bed. “My bed isn’t easy to get into.”
Jiang Yucheng laughed under his breath.
His finger pushed deeper. “Not easy?” he echoed. “You set all this up just to make me come to you. Now I’m here—so let’s skip the talk and get to the real business.”
Zhong Qi let herself sink into the rising pleasure, her fingers brushing his jaw. The faint stubble made her palm tingle.
“I only accept talking while doing,” she said softly.
He gave a low hum of amusement.
With one motion, he tore the thin strap and pulled her dress up to her waist. His mouth traced a slow path down her neck, lingering at her collarbone and stomach.
His other hand never stopped moving inside her, curling and dragging against sensitive flesh until she was completely soaked.
Her breathing grew uneven. She clung to his neck, but he caught her wrist and guided her hand away.
Jiang Yucheng straightened, looking down at her flushed, lust-darkened eyes. Then he caught her fingers in his mouth.
A wave of electric pleasure shot through her body.
Her lips parted slightly. “Mm…”
“You want those people in H City?” he asked, voice low. His fingers pulled away, strands of moisture still connecting them. “Taste yourself first.”
Zhong Qi turned her head away, dodging his hand—then suddenly shoved him.
In one swift motion, she straddled his tense abdomen, unzipped him, and pulled out his burning arousal. Her thumb pressed against the wet tip.
“You really are shameless, Mr. Jiang,” she said lightly.
His scalp tightened under her touch. His hands grabbed her hips, squeezing hard.
“I’m shameless?” he asked. “Then what does that make you, Chairwoman Zhong?”
She laughed.
Without hesitation, she lowered herself onto him.
Heat filled her completely as he stretched her open. Pleasure and pain tangled together, forcing a sharp breath from her lips. Once she adjusted, she pulled off his tie and bound his wrists to the bed.
“These people are mine,” she said, voice steady. “Will you let them go… or spend every day worrying I’ll take them from you?”
Inside her, he was impossibly tight—gripping him with relentless heat. The tip pressed deep, nearly overwhelming him.
Jiang Yucheng’s breathing turned heavier.
“Just a few people,” he said, eyes darkening. “Move.”
“Don’t rush.”
Zhong Qi leaned down. He hadn’t even taken off his suit. Through the fabric, she bit lightly at his chest.
“I’ll take care of you,” she whispered.
He gave a short, breathy laugh.
Then, without warning, he thrust upward.
Hard.
Again.
And again.
He had wanted this for a long time.
Back in the lounge—when he saw her white dress—he had already imagined tearing the straps off her shoulders, gathering that pure fabric at her waist, driving into her until her body broke into helpless motion beneath him.
