Against the Algorithm

Chapter 57: The Space They Made

Yao whimpered, her voice cracking, her fingers gripping the sheets tightly as her body responded to every stroke of him. Her legs trembled, her breath came in soft pants, and the fire blooming low in her stomach only burned hotter with every whispered praise, every pass of him grinding through her soaked center. Then his hand began to move again. The one wrapped around her front slowly slid upward beneath her shirt, palm warm and broad as it trailed over the smooth skin of her stomach, past the gentle curve of her ribs, and higher still. He stopped just beneath her breast. His breath slowed, lips brushing her temple now, and in that same low, rumbling tone that never failed to undo her, he asked softly, "May I?"

Yao's body shuddered at the question, heat pouring down her spine, her thighs instinctively squeezing around him as his cock throbbed against her folds. She could barely think, barely breathe, but she still turned her face toward the pillow, her cheeks burning, her voice small but sure. "...Yes," she whispered, then—after a moment, breathless and so incredibly soft—"Please..."

Sicheng groaned again, deeper this time, like that one word had reached somewhere inside him he couldn't hold back from anymore. "You have no idea," he murmured, kissing her neck as his hand moved up the final inch. And then he cupped her breast. No lace in the way. No fabric between them. Just the heat of his palm against her bare skin, his fingers splaying gently over the soft weight of her as his thumb brushed slowly, deliberately, over the already tightened peak.

Yao gasped, sharp and unguarded, the sound high and trembling as her back arched into him, her hips pushing harder into his slow grind as he rocked through her soaked folds, dragging his cock once more over her clit.

He felt her whole body shake. He moaned, biting down gently on her neck before pressing a kiss to the mark. "You're so perfect," he whispered, voice heavy with love and lust. "So damn good for me... making me lose my mind, beautiful..." His hand gently kneaded her breast, thumb teasing her until her cries turned to pleading, her body trembling on the edge again as he ground himself harder between her thighs, desperate to give her everything she was too shy to ask for.

Yao's soft whimpers bled into breathless pleas, her voice shaking as her hips began to rock faster against him—no longer shy, no longer hesitant. Her body, aching and trembling, moved with instinct now, her thighs pressing tighter around him as he slid through her slick folds, grinding harder with every thrust. "Please—" she gasped, hands fisting in the sheets in front of her as her back arched into him, her body chasing every ounce of friction, every dizzying roll of his hips.

Sicheng's groan came low and sharp, his restraint unraveling thread by thread as he felt her squeeze him tighter, the tension in her thighs locking around him as her body started to quiver from the overwhelming pressure building inside her. "That's it," he growled into her neck, his voice dark and rough with hunger, velvet-edged and dangerous in the best way. "Just like that, beautiful. Keep moving. Let me feel you."

She whimpered again—broken, breathless—her hips meeting his now with growing urgency, her moans stuttering every time his cock dragged across her clit, the head catching her just right.

"You're so damn tight—so wet," he groaned. "You feel like heaven, Yao. My perfect girl. My good girl." His hand slid back up beneath her shirt—bolder now, needier—and cupped her breast again, fingers curving over the softness, thumb circling until her cries grew sharper, until she pressed harder into him with each desperate rock. He rolled her nipple gently between his fingers and pinched. Not rough. Just enough.

Yao cried out, her hips bucking back into him so hard it nearly broke his rhythm. "Sicheng—!" Her voice cracked around the syllables, her fingers clawing at the sheets, knuckles whitening as her thighs shook around him.