The Gradual Bloom of Her Blush
August.
In the dining room, Cheng You’an waited until Jiang’s parents had settled into their chairs before she took her own seat.
“Youyou, is Jiang Ping still not up?” Shao Pei, Jiang’s mother, ladled out a bowl of soup for her and asked in a voice soft as silk.
Cheng You’an pictured the door that had stayed firmly shut and shook her head. “It doesn’t look like it.”
Jiang Haichao gave a clipped snort. “That boy gets more disgraceful by the day—sleeps straight through the morning, nowhere to be seen at night. I told you ages ago, send him to a training camp and grind that temperament out of him.”
Shao Pei shot her husband a reproachful look. “He’s starting senior year once the term begins. Right now studying is the most urgent thing. And with Youyou here to be his little tutor, I can rest much easier. Don’t you agree, Youyou?”
Thinking of Jiang Ping’s grades—so bad even a pig would turn its nose up—and his temper—so foul even a dog would despise it—Cheng You’an gave an inward sigh. But Uncle Jiang and Auntie Shao had been so genuinely kind to her. She lifted her head and promised solemnly, “I’ll do my best to help him improve.”
The words had barely landed when the drag of footsteps came from the staircase. Cheng You’an looked around and met those dark, indifferent eyes across the space. Her heart gave a sharp little jolt, and she dropped her gaze to her rice bowl.
“So you do still know how to come down and eat,” Jiang Haichao mocked.
The chair on Cheng You’an’s right was pulled back, its legs grating a dull groan over the polished tile. As he sat, the dining room, which had felt generous a moment before, suddenly pressed in around her.
From the corner of her eye she could only make out his long legs crossed, grey slippers hanging loose and swaying gently from his feet.
“I heard your lesson from upstairs, so I scrambled out of bed to keep you company for breakfast, didn’t I?” A lazy drawl, and decidedly too cheeky.
Jiang Haichao’s temper sparked; just as he was about to erupt, his wife laid a piece of meat in his bowl and whispered, “Youyou’s here.”
It was only then that Jiang Haichao remembered their future daughter-in-law had arrived not long ago and they couldn’t afford to scare her away. He levelled a hard stare at his son, wordlessly ordering him to rein it in.
As the smoke of battle cleared, Cheng You’an had just exhaled in relief when her body snapped rigid.
A palm freshly washed, still carrying a cool dampness, pressed against her thigh. The moisture seemed to seep straight into her skin and bead up on her forehead.
She had worn a knee-length dress that day; sitting had made the hem ride up a fraction. Now the bare skin above her stockings was covered by a large male hand.
She flicked a sideways glance. Jiang Ping was picking up a soup dumpling with his chopsticks and tucking it into his mouth, leisurely and unhurried—just as unhurried as the hand kneading her thigh, steady and slow.
Cheng You’an looked away and gave her right leg a small shake, signalling him to move it.
Instead of moving, he grew bolder. His hand slipped under the hem, his fingertips tracing the soft flesh of her inner thigh, occasionally giving a light pinch as though he wanted to squeeze the very wetness out of her. Once or twice, whether deliberately or not, a knuckle grazed against the heart of her cunt through her panties.
She drew a soft gasp and hissed under her breath, “Jiang Ping!”
His tall frame leaned a little closer. With food still in his mouth his voice came out thick. “You can yell a bit louder—if you’re not afraid of anyone hearing.”
Cheng You’an stole a glance at his parents. They were deep in conversation about a business trip in a couple of days and paying them no mind.
Quick as a flash she pressed her left hand over his roaming fingers through the fabric of her dress, trying to push him away.
At that moment he warned, “My mom’s looking over.”
Startled, she whipped her hand back and gripped her bowl again.
“Youyou, why are you eating so little? You’re both at an age when you need to fuel your brains—eat a bit more, get some nourishment.” Shao Pei nudged the plate of prawn dumplings closer to her.
Obediently Cheng You’an reached out with her chopsticks for a dumpling. Just then, the long finger circling her inner thigh hooked the edge of her panties and slipped inside.
Jiang Ping’s finger stroked upwards along her tightly shut cunt, then parted the slit and sank slowly in. The plush lips of her p***y immediately closed around him, enfolding his finger on every side.
Mmm, so soft.
With a look of something close to relish, he teased the inner lips, rolling and tracing the tender flesh as if sketching an intricate design.
Cheng You’an’s eartips began to burn. He was… far too brazen.
How could she stop him without being found out?
While her mind spun, his nail scraped against the slick inner wall. An unfamiliar itch bloomed deep in her lower belly. Her breath snagged, and she tightened her grip on her chopsticks, fighting the sensation that was slowly slipping out of her control.
Out of the corner of his eye Jiang Ping caught the gradual blush spreading over her cheeks. A crooked smirk pulled at his lips. He searched upward, found her c**t, and pressed his fingertip down. Cheng You’an’s hand jolted; her chopsticks clinked sharply against the rim of her bowl and tumbled onto the tabletop.
Jiang’s parents stopped talking and looked over.
Cheng You’an went rigid with fright. The adults’ probing stares left her flustered. Beneath the tablecloth his hand was still playing wantonly inside her p***y, as if he cared nothing for whether their parents found out. Shame and the thrill of transgression washed over her in one dizzying rush.
What if they were discovered?
Would Uncle and Auntie think she was some kind of loose girl?
Even though she knew perfectly well he was the one to blame, Cheng You’an couldn’t stop herself from shooting him a desperate look.
Jiang Ping caught her glance, and a gleam of sly amusement gathered in his eyes, as if he had been waiting for exactly this moment. “Been doing too many practice problems? Here, have a chicken foot to make up for it.”
He lifted a braised chicken foot glistening with golden sauce and dropped it into her bowl.
Shao Pei’s eyes brimmed with sympathy. “Youyou, term hasn’t even started yet. There’s no need to work so hard.”
Jiang Haichao chimed in, “Exactly, Youyou. The holidays are for relaxing. Let Jiang Ping take you out and have some fun.” He shot his son another glare. “Look at Youyou, then look at yourself. Don’t you feel any shame?”
Jiang Ping slanted a glance at Cheng You’an and let out a laugh that was impossible to read. “Shame.”
As he spoke, the slightly rough pad of his finger pressed down on her c**t and rubbed it in hard, deliberate circles. She had just managed to pick up her chopsticks and nearly dropped them again. Tiny electric currents sparked and crackled deep into her bones. Her legs began to tremble uncontrollably, and a clear slick of fluid leaked from her cunt.
His fingers met that slippery wetness. Jiang Ping’s eyes darkened, his throat suddenly parched. He crooked a knuckle, pinched her now swollen c**t, and rolled and kneaded it back and forth.
A sharp, piercing pleasure shot through her. Cheng You’an clamped her jaw shut and forced down the moan that swelled in her throat. This man truly grew more outrageous by the second.
Yet to avoid being found out, she braced her elbows on the table and tucked her lower body deeper underneath it, shielding him while still having to respond to his parents’ concerned remarks.
But the more nervous she became, the more her juices flowed, soaking right through her panties.
Jiang Ping felt her p***y flutter and pulse around him, pulling him inward as though urgently inviting him deeper. His mind hazed over. He pried open the tight entrance of her cunt, on the verge of thrusting inside.
Every last ounce of Cheng You’an’s attention was fixed on his finger. The moment she sensed his intent, she clamped her thighs together in fright and locked his hand so tightly he couldn’t advance a single inch further.
Thwarted, Jiang Ping came back to his senses. Damn this little bookworm for bewitching him—he’d almost lost control.
Still, if the timing weren’t so wrong… Did she really think this was enough to stop him? How naïve.
He gave his hand a slight stir, and she immediately clamped down even harder.
He’d thought about pulling out, but now it seemed unnecessary. Soaking in her slick, cradled tight by her cunt—that felt good.
Cheng You’an stayed on high alert, terrified he would start up again. Yet until Jiang’s parents finally headed out to work, his finger stayed obediently right where it was.
Only a faint, nagging unease told her that something was still off.
