The wind between the valleys was cool, and at such high speeds, it became chilling to the bone.
Bramwell changed into a new set of racing gear. He was indeed a very spirited young man, with exceptionally good looks. His features were well-proportioned, making him pleasant to look at at first glance.
On the way, they sped through the night, relying only on the moon above and the headlights cutting through the darkness.
The roar of the exhaust pipes echoed through the silent valley, eerie and ghostly.
The two of them raced ahead, silent and swift.
The mountain road was rugged, and the further up they went, the less stable it became. As the motorbike sped over the rough terrain, it was almost airborne, bouncing high before being expertly controlled by the two drivers, who smoothly guided it down and forward without losing speed.
As the race reached its peak, Arabella simply turned off the main headlights, leaving only the auxiliary lights on, creating a dark, nearly blind path ahead.
Bramwell was shocked by Arabella's dangerous move, his hairs standing on end. Was this really just a friendly competition, or was it some life-risking thrill?
In the narrow space, there was only a sheer cliff and towering mountains surrounding them. If they fell, there would be no chance of survival.
The moment Bramwell hesitated, his speed slowed down. In this kind of race, every second mattered; if the distance increased, it could be impossible to catch up.
Meanwhile, Arabella, with only the auxiliary lights on, not only maintained her speed but suddenly accelerated, increasing the gap between them.
The outcome was already decided.
Their speed was so fast that in just over half an hour, they completed the winding mountain road in half the time.
Arabella won. She smoothly got out of the motorbike, and Raven, already waiting nearby, approached with a bottle of liquor and a towel.
Although the mountain wind was sharp and cold, a slight sheen of sweat appeared on Arabella's forehead under her helmet.
Arabella took the towel, shook it out, and then wiped her face before reaching for the bottle of liquor.
She popped the cap and took a direct swig.
The men around her cheered loudly, as people had already prepared drinks for the celebration, and the atmosphere was full of excitement.
Bramwell's motorbike followed shortly after, and the leader, with his crew, joyfully approached.
From the leader's perspective, it was normal for Bramwell to lose to Arabella. The fact that he managed to close such a short gap meant Bramwell was already quite skilled.
Bramwell staggered a little as he got out of the motorbike. After removing his helmet, he let out a long sigh, feeling like he'd just survived a life-or-death race.
It truly was a dangerous game.
Bramwell's gaze drifted over to Arabella, who was smiling and raising her bottle in celebration.
On that mountain road, he had thought of Arabella as a reckless daredevil who feared nothing.
But her actions of accelerating and decelerating, along with the dim road light, told a different story.
She wasn't trying to win.
Arabella's contradictory behavior gave him a completely different feeling.
That woman was in control, trying to master the thrill, desire, and fear.
A method more astonishing than risking one's life.
Bramwell's eyes glimmered faintly with dark light as he took the bottle from his man's hand and walked to Arabella's side.
"Master Unknown, I respect you. I've lost, and I admit it willingly."
Arabella's expression was pleased as she smiled and clinked her bottle with his. She raised a hand to pat Bramwell's shoulder in appreciation. "Nice driving skills."
After the lively scene dissipated into the late night, Arabella returned to her room.
The room was still lit by a small light, and Edmund was half-lying on the couch.
Hearing the sound, Edmund rubbed his eyes, sleepily sitting up and asking, "Has Master Unknown returned?" His voice was husky, with a hint of softness.
Indeed, he was a harmless and pretty little rabbit.
After a busy day, Arabella almost forgot there was such a delicious little treat in her room.
Casually unzipping her racing suit, Arabella tossed it to Raven, who was following her. She smiled and walked over to the couch, asking, "Why aren't you asleep yet?"
"I didn't know when you'd be back. I wanted to wait for you."
Edmund naturally wrapped his arms around Arabella's neck. He was half-lying on the couch, his long legs stretched out, most of his body hanging off the edge, lying lazily and pulling Arabella into an entangled position with a hint of sensuality.
Arabella felt Edmund's youthful yet enticing scent and teasingly asked, "If I didn't come back all night, wouldn't you break your back lying like this?"
"No. We learnt dance, so our flexibility is great, and our waist strength is not bad either."
Arabella laughed heartily at Edmund's straightforward answer and leaned into him, softly asking, "You're so graceful when you dance, do you have good moves in bed too?"
Arabella quickly got her answer.
It's often said that starlight is dazzling, and Edmund's face was particularly radiant, shining like that of a star.
However, his beauty was not effeminate. Perhaps because of his dance training, Edmund's muscles were defined, but not overly developed—balanced and full of strength.
His movements in bed were graceful and rhythmic, as if dancing to a beat—full of bursts of power and pauses, making even lovemaking feel unique.
When it came to matters in bed, Arabella chose to let things happen naturally, freely switching roles.
If the man was dominant, she was willing to cooperate.
If the man chose to be passive, she was eager to take the lead.
Now straddling Edmund's waist, Arabella pulled open his belt with one hand, the metallic clasp clicking open. As his underwear was removed, her other hand wrapped around his erect penis, now aroused.
Unlike the rough, domineering men in bed, Edmund was clean, and even his penis was smooth and youthful, with no scent to the precum that leaked from its tip.
His whole body was a thing of beauty.
Arabella, with interest, teased Edmund's erect penis, shaking her head with a smile, enjoying its youthful beauty.
As Arabella settled herself down, Edmund tensed, bending his body, his waist involuntarily rising, trying to thrust deeper into the moist, tight space.
On the bed, he wasn't polite, tearing open Arabella's bra.
Arabella's breasts were firm but not overly rounded. He used his waist strength to rise halfway, taking one of her hardened nipples into his mouth, his tongue skillfully flicking over it. Below, he didn't slack off, moving rhythmically to match Arabella's motions, feeling his desire surge as his reason was gradually overwhelmed by lust.
He narrowed his eyes, but Arabella's gaze remained calm and unshaken, untouched by the sea of lust that should have overtaken her as well.
His desire surged beneath him, but it only heightened her sense of control, keeping her rational mind suppressed.
Wine, death, and sexual desire could all make one lose control, but Arabella today has indulged in all three and was still able to focus her mind and control her breathing, withdrawing her thoughts and remaining on high alert, ready to strike at any moment.
Edmund beneath Arabella had a strong waist, even when lying down, he was able to exert enough force. He started with shallow and deep thrusts, and then felt the tightening of the muscles in Arabella's flower. He strained his back and pushed forward, the forceful thrust made Arabella come back to her senses.
She licked her lips contentedly and slapped her hand on Edmund's tight and curvy bottom, expressing her desire.
Edmund was slapped on the butt by a palm, and he worked even harder, as he exerted himself, the tight muscles in his waist and abdomen allowed Arabella to gently caress him. Edmund was almost about to ejaculate from the loving touch, but he bit his teeth to control himself. He felt that it was not enough, and he wanted more of the exhilarating feeling.
Arabella looked down upon Edmund, who was lost in passion, with a seductive and sensual expression in his eyes, making people thirsty for him, the devilishly handsome man.
It's such an irresistible little treat!
Arabella finally leaned in and gently pecked his eyebrow and eye.
She liked bright and clean eyes, which was very easy to remind her of someone.
Although it was she who killed the man herself.
