Chapter 34: Saint Games Acquisition (Part 9)

Chapter 34 Saint Games Acquisition (IX)

At Zhou Chang's invitation, Jing Hong's chest rose and fell heavily as he said, "Okay."

Zhou Chang gave him a deep look, then turned and walked away.

The music, voices, and waves gradually grew closer as they returned to the dock. A hot tune started playing, and the crowd came alive again—women twisting and spinning, their dresses fluttering in the sea breeze, red or yellow, so striking.

But Jing Hong and Zhou Chang didn't linger. They walked straight through the dance floor to the dock.

The boatman already knew them. He gave a nod, and they climbed onto the speedboat.

The speedboat was cramped inside, and Zhou Chang, nearly 1.9 meters tall, had to cram his long legs in, looking uncomfortable. Jing Hong stole a quiet glance at him.

The engine was too loud for talking, so neither spoke. They just watched the driver's silhouette in the dark and the direction of their far-off destination.

The boat cut through the waves, churning the calm water into white foam in its wake.

Finally, they reached the suite on the private island Zhou Chang had reserved.

Zhou Chang opened the door and let Jing Hong go in first.

Then Zhou Chang made a phone call, telling the island's service staff to leave, and watching until they were gone.

After that, Zhou Chang didn't turn on the lights. He said his first words since they'd left the sandbar: "I'll go get the wine. Nothing too fancy—Screaming Eagle, this year's vintage, highly rated. And it happens to be from California."

Jing Hong's head was still numb. "What's the score?"

The hotel had a wine list with tons of options. Jing Hong hadn't ordered anything, but Zhou Chang clearly had—the guy knew how to live.

"The list says 99," Zhou Chang said.

"That's excellent." 99 was a very high score. The hundred-point scale was Napa's own system, but even the top wineries had averaged only around 90 in recent years.

Then Zhou Chang went to get the wine, and Jing Hong walked over to the floor-to-ceiling window and slid it open. A gust of sea breeze blew in, making Jing Hong squint. He shut it again.

The room fell silent once more. Jing Hong heard the soft pop of the cork coming out of the bottle, then the crisp sound of wine being poured into a glass.

A few seconds later, Zhou Chang came up behind him, glass in hand. Jing Hong couldn't see him, but he knew Zhou Chang was right behind him.

Jing Hong started to turn to take the glass, but Zhou Chang wrapped an arm around his waist, stopping him. Zhou Chang pulled Jing Hong against his chest, brought the glass to his lips, and tipped it slightly, feeding him.

Jing Hong had no choice but to hold Zhou Chang's wrist and take a sip of the rich wine.

But Zhou Chang didn't hand the glass over. He kept going, patiently—one sip, then another.

Soon, though, Zhou Chang started tilting the glass more and more, faster and faster. Jing Hong wanted to stop him, but the hand at his waist slid up along the buttons, over his neck and Adam's apple, finally gripping his chin and pouring the wine down his throat.

Before long, Jing Hong was gulping it down, until he couldn't drink anymore. Red wine trickled from the corners of his mouth, pooled at his collarbone, then rolled over it and down his chest, soaking into his white shirt.

A patch of rose-red, shocking to see.

When the glass was empty, Zhou Chang didn't even bother walking back to the table to put it down. He yanked open the big sliding door and hurled the glass into the pool outside—water splashed everywhere. He slid the door shut, spun Jing Hong around, and they kissed like crazy.

Zhou Chang's shirt got stained with the wine from Jing Hong's body, but neither of them seemed to notice. Zhou Chang held Jing Hong's waist and back, while Jing Hong clung to Zhou Chang's shoulders and neck, one hand gripping the black hair at the back of Zhou Chang's neck.

The lights were off. Outside were the bright moon, a gentle breeze, and the night sea. They were lost in each other.

Their minds were heating up, churning like molten lava, their chests burning with a surging heat.

After what felt like forever of kissing, Zhou Chang's hand moved to the back of Jing Hong's head, grabbed a few strands of hair, and tugged gently.

Jing Hong tilted his head back.

Zhou Chang's nose traced down Jing Hong's jawline, brushing over his lower lip, chin, the soft skin beneath, until it reached his Adam's apple.

So exposed.

Zhou Chang licked Jing Hong's Adam's apple, and Jing Hong's whole body trembled.

Then Zhou Chang tore open two buttons on Jing Hong's shirt and kissed his neck and shoulder, one after another. First gentle nuzzles, then frantic sucking, then rough licking.

Jing Hong felt weak, his hands pushing weakly against Zhou Chang's firm chest.

Zhou Chang felt it, of course. He unbuttoned his own shirt, spread it open, and with one arm holding Jing Hong, took Jing Hong's hands one by one and pressed them against his bare chest.

Jing Hong flinched at the touch, but it felt too good. Before he knew it, his hands were resting weakly on Zhou Chang's chest.

Moonlight shimmered in Jing Hong's eyes, a riot of shifting colors.

Zhou Chang kissed Jing Hong's lips again. At the same time, he lifted Jing Hong's shirt. At first, he was a bit cautious—his index and middle fingers spread apart, rubbing up and down on either side of Jing Hong's nipples. But soon, his thumb and forefinger pinched one of Jing Hong's nipples, pressing with his thumb and twisting with his fingers. Jing Hong instinctively tried to arch his back, but Zhou Chang's other hand pressed him hard against the glass. He couldn't escape, could only take it all passively.

Even the muscles in his throat were frozen, a silver thread of saliva trailing from the corner of his mouth.

Then, somehow, they were holding each other, pressed tight together, kissing and grinding.

In a daze, Jing Hong heard Zhou Chang's belt unbuckle and knew Zhou Chang had pulled himself out, but he didn't stop him.

Then his own belt was yanked open. His underwear was pulled down, and they kept kissing while grinding against each other.

The feeling was strange and maddening.

After what felt like forever, just as they were about to peak, Zhou Chang suddenly spun Jing Hong around, tore off another button, exposing a wide stretch of Jing Hong's shoulder. He kissed it while his right hand kept working Jing Hong's lower body. At the same time, Zhou Chang wedged himself between Jing Hong's thighs, using the soft flesh of Jing Hong's inner thighs to grip himself, driving toward the finish.

Feeling the shocking hardness and heat, Jing Hong squirmed. But Zhou Chang was too tall—to wedge himself in, he'd lifted Jing Hong by the waist with one arm, and Jing Hong's heels were off the ground, with no leverage.

"Press your legs together," Zhou Chang said hoarsely behind him.

Jing Hong didn't react. His legs just stood there, naturally apart.

Zhou Chang gave up. "Tsk, you..."

Driven by lust, Zhou Chang wedged himself higher, into the tightest spot, until he couldn't go any further.

Jing Hong felt his own sac being rubbed hard against, over and over. He closed his eyes, breathing heavily.

At first, the friction of skin slowed Zhou Chang's movements, but soon, a lot of pre-cum flowed from his tip, wetting Jing Hong's thighs.

So slick, Zhou Chang's movements turned smooth.

They fell into perfect rhythm.

When Zhou Chang pulled back, his right hand would slide toward the head of Jing Hong's cock, and when he thrust forward, his hand would curl inward, and they'd bump gently.

Before long, Jing Hong's shirt was stripped off completely, crumpled on the floor. The curtains were open, and he stood there completely bare.

Their skin was pressed together, the heat between them astonishing.

Under the moonlight, Jing Hong's fair shoulders seemed dusted with silver powder.

Jing Hong's hands pressed against the glass. After so long, with the cool night sea breeze, mist had formed on the outside of the glass—in the shape of a pair of slender hands.

The air was so hot it seemed to ripple.

In perfect sync, the glass was left smeared in patches, their fluids mingled, impossible to tell apart.

And the inside of Jing Hong's thighs was equally soiled.

Jing Hong's legs gave way, and his hand slid down the glass, leaving a streak.

Zhou Chang still seemed unsatisfied, but Jing Hong shook his head, saying, "I can't... I can't anymore..."

Zhou Chang paused, then said, "Alright. Want to take a shower?"

Jing Hong shook his head, his fingers fumbling blindly on the carpet, grabbed his shirt to wipe his inner thighs, then walked unsteadily into a bedroom and climbed onto the big bed in the middle.

He was too exhausted.

Zhou Chang picked up the clothes from the floor, followed Jing Hong, tossed the garments onto the ground by the window beside the bed, and was about to climb up as well when Jing Hong, eyes closed, said, "Go sleep in the other room."

Zhou Chang couldn't believe it, asking, "...What?"

Jing Hong was still drowsy, his tone carrying his usual commanding authority: "Use the guest room. I'm not used to sleeping with others."

Zhou Chang laughed in exasperation, asking, "Used up and now you're kicking me out?"

Once calmed down, Jing Hong felt his head splitting with pain and said again, "Go. I don't want to say it a third time."

"...Fine." Zhou Chang resigned himself, saying, "You little ingrate."

But before leaving, Zhou Chang took a quick shower in Jing Hong's bathroom, wrapped a towel around his waist, and finally turned off the wall lamp for Jing Hong before closing the door behind him.

After Zhou Chang left, a delicate, clean fatigue, like velvet, slowly drifted down from the ceiling, finally settling gently over him, and Jing Hong fell asleep.