Chapter 80 The Huntress and Her Prize: A Game of Dominance
Chapter 80 The Huntress and Her Prize: A Game of Dominance
Qin Wanshu locked the divorce agreement in her personal safe, a symbolic act of finality, of securing her freedom, and then left the study to find Zuo Qinghuan in the guest room. The huntress returning to her prize.
When Qin Wanshu opened the door and entered, Zuo Qinghuan was fast asleep, oblivious to the machinations that had just transpired, a picture of innocent trust. Qin Wanshu walked over and sat on the edge of the bed. The predator observing its prey. She looked at Zuo Qinghuan's sleeping face. She had gone to great lengths for her, orchestrated this entire drama, and this fool was sleeping so soundly. Either this creature was incredibly anxious about her divorce, or Zuo Qinghuan had an unnervingly good attitude. Looking at Zuo Qinghuan's sleeping face, a playful impulse, a desire to exert her dominance, to disturb that peaceful slumber, arose in Qin Wanshu. She reached out and gently pinched Zuo Qinghuan's nose shut. Unable to breathe, Zuo Qinghuan was forced to slowly open her eyes, blinking in confusion, her defenses down.
"Is it done?" Zuo Qinghuan asked as soon as she saw Qin Wanshu, rubbing her eyes, a vulnerable, almost childlike gesture.
"What do you think?" Qin Wanshu raised an eyebrow, her voice a low, teasing murmur. A game of cat and mouse. The way Zuo Qinghuan rubbed her eyes was truly adorable, stirring a possessive warmth in Qin Wanshu's chest. It seemed that ever since she had fallen for her, everything about this person was pleasing to her eye, every flaw, every vulnerability, only serving to deepen her obsession.
"Your eyes are smiling. It must be done," She's sharp, even when half-asleep. There was a hint of joy in Qin Wanshu's eyes, it had to be good news. But even joy on Qin Wanshu's face is subtle, a carefully controlled flicker, not a blazing flame.
"You certainly have it easy, sleeping so soundly," Qin Wanshu said, her tone neither cold nor hot, but laced with a subtle possessiveness, a hint of reproach for Zuo Qinghuan's carefree slumber while she, Qin Wanshu, orchestrated their future.
"Well, isn't that because I trust my goddess to handle things?" Zuo Qinghuan sat up and leaned into Qin Wanshu, seeking closeness, her body a warm, inviting weight, speaking in a coquettish tone, a purr of contentment and subtle demand. She didn't know when Han Shibin had arrived or when he had left, and she had been anxiously waiting for a long time, her heart filled with a nervous tension. But just thinking of Qin Wanshu brought a sense of inexplicable calm, a faith bordering on worship. Once her overly tense nerves relaxed, sleepiness had overtaken her, a testament to her complete trust in Qin Wanshu's ability to control the situation.
"You certainly know how to flatter me," Qin Wanshu said, shaking her head slightly, but a faint smile played on her lips, betraying her pleasure at Zuo Qinghuan's words. She reached out and embraced Zuo Qinghuan, claiming her, pulling her close. She was becoming increasingly accustomed to Zuo Qinghuan's intimate gestures, even starting to crave them, addicted to the feel of her body, the scent of her skin.
"My dear, you've worked so hard. How about I offer myself as a reward?" Zuo Qinghuan whispered seductively into Qin Wanshu's ear, her fingers already wandering over Qin Wanshu's body, a deliberate provocation, a promise of pleasure. She was no longer the passive recipient; she was an active participant, a predator in her own right.
"Fine, but we'll wait until tonight." Before the divorce, having sex with Zuo Qinghuan felt like stealing, like an illicit affair. It wasn't proper, and it weighed on her conscience, a delicious sin, but a sin nonetheless. But now, with the divorce agreement signed, Qin Wanshu felt exceptionally good, liberated, and more importantly, the psychological burden was gone, the guilt washed away, leaving only the desire. Therefore, she didn't reject Zuo Qinghuan's advances, her body already responding to the suggestion. But doing that sort of thing in broad daylight was still something Qin Wanshu wasn't used to. Qin Wanshu was, at her core, still very conservative, a woman of tradition and restraint, despite the wildfire Zuo Qinghuan had ignited within her.
"But what if I want to serve my lady now?" Zuo Qinghuan, with a slight exertion, pushed Qin Wanshu down onto the bed, a deliberate act of dominance, a playful assertion of power. She straddled Qin Wanshu's waist and abdomen, positioning herself as the aggressor, the one in control. Even Qin Wanshu couldn't help but blush at the sight, the heat rising to her cheeks. This position was far too suggestive, too blatant in its display of intent. The hunter had become the hunted, and the thrill of it was undeniable.
"Qinghuan..." Qin Wanshu was about to refuse, a token protest, a vestige of her ingrained restraint, but Zuo Qinghuan's lips sealed Qin Wanshu's words, silencing her with a kiss, a kiss that was both demanding and possessive. Her hand had already slipped inside Qin Wanshu's clothes, a practiced invasion, knowing exactly where to go. She was intimately familiar with Qin Wanshu's body by now, a map charted by touch and taste, she knew precisely where Qin Wanshu was most sensitive, where a touch, a caress, could elicit the most exquisite response.
Qin Wanshu's increasingly sensitive body, under Zuo Qinghuan's deliberate provocation, her skillful manipulation, became heated, inflamed with a desire that burned away all resistance. Qin Wanshu felt as if her body was becoming less and less her own, a vessel increasingly susceptible to Zuo Qinghuan's will. It was becoming easier and easier for her body to melt, to surrender completely, under Zuo Qinghuan's tongue and fingertips. Qin Wanshu sometimes couldn't even imagine that her body had once been so resistant to this, so cold and unresponsive. It was as if Zuo Qinghuan had awakened a sleeping dragon, a beast of passion she never knew existed.
Zuo Qinghuan increasingly enjoyed Qin Wanshu's reactions. Although Qin Wanshu still tried to suppress her responses, a futile attempt to maintain some semblance of control, her body was becoming more and more honest, betraying her true desires with every shiver, every gasp. Zuo Qinghuan loved to hear the soft moans Qin Wanshu couldn't quite hold back, the sounds of her pleasure escaping her lips, sounds more melodious and moving than anything else. She knew that under her tutelage, her patient and persistent seduction, Qin Wanshu's body could now bloom in the most exquisite and beautiful way, reaching heights of pleasure she had never imagined possible.
Han Shibin returned to the villa. The car in the garage hadn't been driven away, indicating that Qin Wanshu was still inside. His suspicion, a nagging doubt, had solidified into a burning need to know. But Han Shibin didn't find Qin Wanshu's figure in the master bedroom or the study. He searched every room, one by one, his heart pounding with a mixture of dread and a perverse curiosity. When he reached the last guest room, Han Shibin, without much thought, driven by a force he couldn't quite understand, opened the door. But the scene inside stunned him, froze him in place. This scene would be etched into Han Shibin's memory for the rest of his life, a searing image of betrayal and a love he could never comprehend.
A naked woman had her head buried between the legs of an equally naked Qin Wanshu. The woman's head and cascading hair obscured the precise point of contact, but even without seeing, Han Shibin knew, with a sickening certainty, that this woman was pleasuring Qin Wanshu, worshipping her with her mouth. This Qin Wanshu, her face a mask of abandonment and raw pleasure, was not the Qin Wanshu he knew. The Qin Wanshu he knew never made a sound in bed, a silent, almost unwilling participant. She would simply endure it silently, her expression never this… ecstatic, this mixture of enjoyment and barely suppressed release. Although Qin Wanshu's current expression was truly beautiful, more beautiful than he had ever seen her, it had never belonged to him, and it never would. This realization sent a surge of rage through Han Shibin, a fury fueled by betrayal and wounded pride.
Although Han Shibin had made assumptions, he never imagined that Qin Wanshu's lover would be a woman. The thought of losing to another man was bad enough, but this... this was an insult, a humiliation. He was unwilling to accept that he had lost to a woman. He didn't immediately recognize Zuo Qinghuan; Han Shibin's attention was overwhelmingly focused on Qin Wanshu, on the woman he had considered his possession, now reveling in the touch of another. Therefore, Han Shibin didn't yet know that the following events would only shock him further, adding insult to a wound that was already festering.
Han Shibin's furious gaze shifted to the other woman. The curve of her back, the way her hair fell, it was all strangely familiar. It was Zuo Qinghuan. Han Shibin froze the instant he recognized her, his mind struggling to process the impossible. How could it be Zuo Qinghuan? His former mistress and his wife together, entwined in a way that made his stomach churn? This absurd and deeply disturbing fact carved itself into Han Shibin's brain, a brand of shame and disbelief. Han Shibin, unable to control himself any longer, violently shoved the door inward. The door slammed against the wall, the sound explosive in the otherwise silent room, a violent punctuation mark to his rage and despair.
Both Qin Wanshu and Zuo Qinghuan turned towards the source of the sound, their bodies still tingling from their interrupted pleasure, and saw Han Shibin, his face a mask of terrifying, barely controlled rage.
Shit, caught in the act, Zuo Qinghuan thought, a jolt of panic mixed with a strange sense of defiance. But she reacted quickly, pulling up the nearby blanket to cover both herself and Qin Wanshu, a futile attempt at modesty, a shield against the storm that was about to break. Judging by Han Shibin's expression, he wasn't going to let this go easily. Zuo Qinghuan looked at Qin Wanshu with concern, her worry etched on her face. She knew that Han Shibin was usually reasonable, but when provoked, when his pride was wounded, he could be difficult to deal with, a dangerous, unpredictable force.
Compared to Zuo Qinghuan's obvious anxiety, Qin Wanshu remained remarkably calm, her composure almost unnerving. She only frowned slightly, a flicker of annoyance, not fear, showing no other significant reaction. It was as if she were facing a trivial matter, something easily dismissed.
"Don't you think you owe me an explanation?" Han Shibin's voice was low and icy, a chilling contrast to the heat that had filled the room moments before. If looks could kill, Zuo Qinghuan felt she would have been sliced to ribbons countless times over.
"Go out first. I'll give you an explanation later," Qin Wanshu said coldly, her voice devoid of any warmth or apology. She hadn't expected Han Shibin to return. A miscalculation, a rare slip in her usually flawless planning. She had been too careless, too caught up in the moment. But since the cat was out of the bag, she had to face it head-on, with the same calculated calm she applied to everything else. After all, Han Shibin was now just her ex-husband, a man with no power over her.
Han Shibin didn't budge, his feet rooted to the spot, his body a rigid pillar of indignation. He just stared coldly at Qin Wanshu and Zuo Qinghuan, showing no intention of avoiding the scene, his gaze a weapon, meant to inflict shame and guilt.
Seeing that Han Shibin wasn't going to leave, Qin Wanshu, with a deliberate slowness that bordered on defiance, threw back the covers. She got up and, with unnerving grace, put on the clothes Zuo Qinghuan had stripped off her, piece by piece, reconstructing her armor, her composure. There was no awkwardness, no self-consciousness, her movements unhurried and deliberate. There wasn't the slightest hint of shame or embarrassment, only a chilling control. Zuo Qinghuan was stunned, dumbfounded by Qin Wanshu's ability to maintain such composure in the face of such a scandalous discovery. Besides Qin Wanshu, who else could be so elegant while being caught in such a compromising situation? It was a display of power, a silent declaration of dominance. Zuo Qinghuan, with much less grace, quickly got dressed as well, her heart still pounding with anxiety. She knew that being discovered by Han Shibin would likely cause a lot of trouble for Qin Wanshu, a storm of gossip and potential repercussions. Qin Wanshu, seeing that Zuo Qinghuan was dressed, gently patted Zuo Qinghuan's shoulder and gave her a reassuring smile, as if to say, "Don't worry, I've got this." It was a silent promise of protection, a shield against the coming storm.
Looking at Qin Wanshu's smile, Zuo Qinghuan's heart calmed slightly. There was a powerful force about Qin Wanshu, an aura of control and competence, that always inexplicably reassured her, a belief that she could handle anything.
Han Shibin was enraged by Qin Wanshu's lack of remorse, her utter indifference to his presence, his feelings. It was as if he were invisible, inconsequential. And the way they looked at each other, that silent exchange of reassurance, only fueled his fury further.
"Qinghuan, you go out first," Qin Wanshu said to Zuo Qinghuan softly, her voice a gentle command.
Zuo Qinghuan didn't want to leave. She knew Qin Wanshu wanted to protect her, to shield her from the fallout, but this was something they should face together. She couldn't let Qin Wanshu face this alone. Qin Wanshu had already done so much for her. It was her turn to stand by her side, to share the burden.
"Be good, listen to me!" Qin Wanshu's voice, though seemingly coaxing, held a firm, unyielding tone of command. At this moment, Qin Wanshu wouldn't allow anyone to defy her wishes, her authority absolute.
Seeing Qin Wanshu's determined expression, Zuo Qinghuan hesitated for a moment, then obediently left the room, leaving Han Shibin and Qin Wanshu inside. She knew she had to trust Qin Wanshu, even if it tore her apart. She didn't know what Han Shibin would do, how he would react. She desperately wanted to know what they were talking about, but the soundproofing was too good. Zuo Qinghuan could only lean against the wall next to the door, a silent, anxious sentinel, waiting for their conversation to end, her heart a knot of worry and a fierce, protective love.
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