Raven's kiss was clumsy, lacking experience.
Driven only by instinct, it was urgent and messy, forceful, as if trying to push them further into each other. It seemed as though he was trying to convey his intense emotions through his actions, with the primal beast within him completely awakened.
He was ravenous, his eyes bloodshot, feeling as though every inch of his body was screaming, craving to have her.
He bit down on Arabella's pale, delicate neck, where beneath the faintly bruised veins flowed vibrant blood. It coursed down, tracing the clear outline of her collarbone.
Down the collarbone, Raven stretched out his hand and massage and squeeze, then suck and lick the hardened nipple on the chest, the originally pale-colored nipple was made to be aroused and drooling with red by the licking and teasing.
Arabella stretched out her hand to stroke Raven's hard short hair. She squinted her eyes, feeling a sense of pleasure that made her comfortable enough to press Raven's head against her chest and continue to savor the tingling sensation.
She recalled how Cyrus cautiously extended his tongue to lick her nipple.
It itches, with saliva carrying a dampness, exposed to the air and feeling slightly cool.
At that time, she was gloomy and silent, seldom smiling.
Only when Cyrus was around could he make her giggle.
In her youth, when her heart was first stirred with feelings, every movement of hers carried an unprecedented, lifelong sincerity.
Feeling Arabella's initiative, Raven worked even harder to lick and tease her. Licking and kissing, sucking with high spirits, causing the entire pair of breasts to undulate one wave after another, which made Arabella emit a lazy and shallow hum.
After being so thoroughly caressed by Raven, her chest was exceptionally vibrant and tender, with a hint of suggestive moisture.
As the fire spread down the stairs, a wet kiss landed on every inch of her skin. Arabella lay her head on the raised armrest, and with a lowered gaze, she could see Raven buried between his legs, licking his inner thigh with a hot tongue.
It was already past midnight, and Arabella was about to mark the arrival of another year in her life—a reminder that she had not met her end in the streets, nor had death claimed her amidst the hail of bullets and gunfire.
Arabella felt a moment of quiet satisfaction within herself, as if it were a belated gift from fate.
Raven's whole body was hot, as if a fire was burning inside him, and he buried his head under her, his breath burning against the delicate skin on the inside of her thighs. Arabella felt very hot and her breathing became light and slow.
"Happy Birthday, Master Unknown," Raven's voice was soft, somewhat hoarse, with his words brushed close, the tip of his nose grazing lightly, like a whisper of affection.
"I'm very happy," Arabella's lips curled into her usual smile, but this time, the smile carried a rare sincerity, a depth that was seldom seen. Raven, crouching below her, didn't notice.
Yet, Raven's years of experience told him that on Arabella's birthday, there was always something different—something unique to this day.
Perhaps it was the significance of the occasion that made her appear a little more fragile, though it was only an appearance.
He still felt the latent power in every muscle he touched, a force that could turn and strike back in an instant.
Raven lifted his gaze slightly. Arabella's head was slightly raised, the light casting a delicate shadow as it swept across her fine lashes. Her half-open shirt revealed the smooth, pale curve of her chest, as white as snow.
So enticing.
The tongue naturally licks and slides in, the warm and wet tongue gradually penetrating deeper and deeper, and a sticky, watery sound emanating from the depths that makes the heart race.
Arabella grabbed Raven's hair tightly, slightly moved her body, and slid out of Raven's lips and tongue.
Arabella's chest rose and fell steadily, but a rare flush of color tinged her face. Meeting Raven's slightly puzzled gaze, her expression momentarily froze, as if caught off guard.
In a fleeting moment, it felt as though she had been transported back to that day, and Cyrus cautiously extended his finger into her body. She was unable to bear it and moved, and the concern in Cyrus's eyes could not be hidden.
"Bella? Did I hurt you?"
At that moment, Arabella thought Cyrus was foolish. How could she possibly feel pain?
If she could endure the agony of iron nails piercing her body, how could she not bear the pressure of his few fingers?
In a certain sense, she had long since grown accustomed to pain and torment—only through such endurance could she have survived so smoothly.
"Master Unknown? Was I not serving you comfortably enough?" Raven's forehead beaded with sweat, and the aggressive aura in his brows and eyes softened, almost imperceptibly. A sudden shift in his demeanor, as if a gentler side had unwittingly emerged.
Memory and reality began to blur—
Once, only one person had ever asked her a question like that. Now, at last, a second had come to ask.
The smile at the corner of Arabella's lips deepened, and with a swift motion, she tugged at Raven's collar, pulling him so close that their lips nearly brushed. With a teasing, ambiguous tone, she replied:"Come and fxxck me."
It was as though a seal had been broken—
Suddenly, Raven's pupil contracted, and he grabbed Arabella slender waist and pressed it down forcefully, while Arabella's legs twisted and wrapped around his powerful and slender waist like agile fish.
The flicker of flames in her eyes made Raven's expression darken, his throat working as his Adam's apple rolled, and his voice dropped into a guttural, lust-laden growl: "Master Unknown, look at me."
Arabella looked at Raven, who resembled a large, injured dog, full of hurt and longing. A faint smile tugged at her lips as she murmured, "Alright, I'll look at you."
Raven felt as though a thousand words were poised on the tip of his tongue. This rare opportunity, a breakthrough for the emotions he had long suppressed, transformed into an overwhelming surge of desire as he drew closer to the woman he had yearned for.
*
With each inch closer, Raven kissed the curve of Arabella's brows and eyes.
He could not bear her smile, the false sincerity behind it. On nights like this, he longed to escape the mask of jest and pretend that beneath it, they shared something real.
Arabella, however, cared little for such details.
Her affection was like glutinous edibility paper wrapped in sugar—so thin, it melted the moment it touched the tongue.
Thus, in this lifetime, it had only melted on the lips of one person—and that person was now dead, and with them, her love had turned to ash.
Arabella opened her legs wide to facilitate a deeper penetration, and wrapped her arms around Raven's strong and broad back, following the rhythm of his body.
An aggressive stance made Raven more excited, and he eagerly kissed Arabella, swinging her hips forcefully and tightening his firm buttocks as he thrust in and out, deep and urgently.
Arabella didn't care about the intense sex, the rocking and pounding, as if he were fucking her so hard that he would tear her open.
Her breathing became more labored, and her unabashed moans became clearer and louder. She felt the inner walls rubbing against a soft and sensitive tip, which gave her a good feeling and was very comfortable.
Her desires were contradictory; they could be intense, yet equally cold and detached.
Despite the inner muscles of the vagina biting Raven's dick down too tightly, causing him to breathe heavily, he looked down at their connected organ, where the pink, tender flesh had been slightly stretched and opened, glistening with a lubricious, excessively lascivious moisture.
Arabella's body was perfectly proportioned, not an ounce of excess flesh. A thin layer of skin wrapped around muscles that lay hidden beneath, each breath she took outlining sharp, blade-like contours.
Like an earthly paradise—once drawn in, it was impossible to escape.
Like driving a dozen stakes into the ground, he rammed her even harder, making a "pap-pap" sound with the impacts that blended with the water noise and was very sensual.
This intensity was something that never existed back then—
In her memory, the shadow of the young man stretched endlessly, blurring into a poem, enveloped in a wash of white light.
The boy gently embraced her, their hands clasped together, their feet entwined, as if this alone would prevent them from ever parting.
"Bella, you're not fully grown yet. When your first period comes, will you really be with me?"
Will she?
Sure—her first time should have been for Cyrus. No one else could take it from him.
On the first night after her first period had passed, she was still hiding in the jungle with him.
She climbed to the very top of the tree, facing the east, and without hesitation, she pierced through the thin maidenhead with her open legs.
Arabella felt a certain wetness rise within her, unrelated to tears.
The boy was the one she had hung with her own hands. No matter how many nights she tossed and turned afterward, consumed by regret, wishing she could tear her own insides apart in remorse, it was all in vain.
Those beautiful memories had already been shattered on the night of their elopement, corroded and marred by the acid of betrayal, leaving nothing but scars.
The moment of excitement was getting closer, and the wave it created engulfed both of them, leaving them both in a state of disarray as his genitals collided within her body.
Something seemed to be changing, yet it also felt like nothing had changed at all.
"Arabella. I really love you." Raven confessed once more, his voice soft, almost a whisper. He embraced the woman beneath him with all his strength, unsure how to make her feel it.
To merge with her, become one.
He would do anything for her.
Arabella remained silent. Her body burned with heat, yet her eyes were as calm as still water, the ripples from earlier now completely settled.
The beautiful memories, when recalled to the ugly end, always brought a deep sense of disappointment to Arabella's heart.
She buried all her emotions again, suppressing them to a suffocating degree.
On the same night, Nicholas twisted his wrist, performing rehabilitation exercises.
It was easy to reattach the severed hand, but returning to his peak was much harder.
Fortunately, he had never relied on physical prowess to build his empire; he was a strategist, his strength lay in his mind.
A chain was wrapped around his wrist to cover the still-healing scar. It was a necklace, identical to the one Arabella wore when she set off.
It was a couple's necklace—one given to Arabella, and the other he wore himself.
Even though it was a couple's item, it didn't stop him from scheming against Arabella at that time.
His feelings for Arabella were pure. He was willing to offer her the best in the world.
Being the best in the world was unique.
No one deserved her, not even himself.
Danger lurked in the calm depths of his eyes. His lashes were long and thick, the contours of his eyes subtly elongated, with the outer corners irresistibly captivating. Every movement he made, no matter how slight, carried a magnetic allure.
He gazed out the window. It was already past midnight, and Arabella's birthday had arrived.
Every year, he silently wished her happiness in his heart.
The happiness at the summit of a mountain, forever unattainable.
Suddenly, the encrypted transmission device on the table buzzed. Nicholas glanced at it, and his eyelids flickered. Then, his whole body sprang up in excitement.
"Suspected sighting of Arabella's subordinate."
Arabella really made it out alive?
Nicholas felt as if his heart had been filled with an entire jar of honey, so elated and satisfied.
