Returning - Chapter 26
Chapter 26: Should We Do It?
When Zhao Yu emerged from the bathroom, Shang Lu was sitting by the floor-to-ceiling window, quietly watching the curtain of rain outside.
On the table before him sat his half-finished glass of wine.
In Zhao Yu's memory, in the three years she had known him, he never touched alcohol except when social obligations demanded it.
But even at those obligatory functions, he had never let himself get drunk.
He didn't smoke, didn't love drinking, didn't indulge in women—even with a mistress like her, specifically kept to vent his desires, he never overindulged in lust.
He was the most self-restrained person Zhao Yu had ever met.
Sometimes Zhao Yu even suspected this man was entirely cold and detached of heart, despite the gentle smile and tender demeanor he always presented to others.
Zhao Yu had thought about getting herself a glass and having a drink too, but one look at that handcrafted wine bottle and she dismissed the idea.
Shang Lu clearly understood her thoughts. His gaze swept over the bottle, then glanced at her—the meaning clear: Drink if you want.
He had always been generous with her. When she was by his side, everything she ate, wore, or used could be to the same standard as his.
But Zhao Yu didn't drink.
Anything of his that was good or expensive—she touched none of it.
Having already accepted his money for being kept, she tried to draw clear boundaries in every other way possible.
She knew he kept his distance from her too. Between them, their roles were clear-cut and strictly defined.
Shang Lu asked: "You're following Xue Zi'ang around. Is it really for the money?"
The phrasing was a question, but the answer was something he was more than certain of. So Zhao Yu remained silent.
Shang Lu's gaze settled back on her face. "Three years ago, the day we met... that man—was it Xue Zi'ang?"
Zhao Yu looked at him, then smiled.
He also suddenly smiled, as if talking to himself: "Probably not him. He may be a womanizer, but he wouldn't stoop to doing something like that."
After a pause, he asked again: "Zhao Yu, did you come back to the country for revenge?"
Zhao Yu smiled. "If President Shang wants to know my affairs, he can easily have someone investigate. It would all become clear."
This time, it was Shang Lu who fell silent.
It truly would be easy for him to uncover the parts he didn't know. After all, he knew about Tang Xi's existence.
Yet for three whole years, he had never looked into it.
Because aside from reclaiming the Shang family business, he wouldn't waste time or energy on any person or any matter. Agreeing three years ago to help her change her identity and take her abroad had already been an exception.
The air fell into stillness once more.
That hot shower had chased the chill from Zhao Yu's body and restored her to calmness.
And her earlier remark had helped Shang Lu regain his rationality, instantly dissolving the subtle, ambiguous atmosphere that had been lingering between them moments before.
After a long silence, Zhao Yu suddenly asked, "Should we do it?"
Shang Lu turned to look at her. She smiled and said, "No charge this time. Consider it a thank-you for helping me today."
Shang Lu studied her for two seconds, then extended his hand towards her.
Obediently, she placed her hand in his. He pulled hard, yanking her into his arms.
She was wearing his bathrobe, very loose, only cinched at the waist with a single belt holding the whole garment closed around her body.
Once the belt was loosened, the robe split apart to both sides, revealing her bare body.
Her underwear, along with that dress, had all been thrown into his washing machine. Naturally, she was wearing nothing underneath.
Shang Lu's left hand kneaded her breast while his right hand parted her legs, fingers seeking directly for her entrance—stroking both places, top and bottom, simultaneously.
Zhao Yu panted lightly, reaching out to undo the buttons of his shirt one by one. She caressed his solid chest for a moment, then slowly moved to unbuckle his trousers.
His hot, rigid cock fell into her hand, unobstructed, already fully hard. She gripped it and pumped a dozen or so times, then shifted her hips to bring her center closer.
Knowing she was ready, Shang Lu withdrew his hand, grasped her waist and hip, and pressed her down onto the cock she was holding steady. He thrust inside quickly.
The full, stretched sensation made Zhao Yu hum with pleasure. Bracing her hands on his shoulders, she began to move up and down in rhythm, swallowing his desire stroke by stroke.
This position allowed him to enter extremely deep. Not only could he ruthlessly stir the sensitive core of her, but his shaft was also sheathed deeper and tighter, gripping him until his breaths grew increasingly ragged and heavy.
But they didn't use this position often.
In front of him, she rarely took the initiative like this, and rarely let out wanton moans.
Because he didn't like it.
When she first followed him, in order to fulfill her duties as a mistress properly, she had deliberately switched up her style in bed with him, thinking he would enjoy that kind of stimulation.
In the end, what he had always liked was the sight of her pinned beneath him, being fucked until her eyes brimmed with tears, looking pitifully delicate and helpless.
Zhao Yu thought, perhaps because he had lost too much and was no longer strong enough, in bed he needed the frail, helpless version of her to recover something within himself.
Listening to her unrestrained moans and watching her breasts sway hypnotically before his eyes, Shang Lu finally lowered his head and took one nipple into his mouth, sucking, licking, and gently biting it.
"Mm..." Zhao Yu clutched his shirt tightly, tilting her head back as she panted and moaned, feeling his lips and tongue move from one nipple to the other, then trailing bites along her collarbone and neck.
But he didn't kiss her lips.
They rarely kissed. Zhao Yu even felt that what happened between them shouldn't be called making love—it should be called fucking.
A transaction between a sugar daddy and his mistress, an entanglement born purely of carnal desire.
Kissing sometimes felt too intimate, too innocent. It didn't suit their relationship.
Zhao Yu had always kept up with her fitness routine and had good stamina. She moved on top of him for a long time, only going soft once she climaxed, her strength starting to fail her.
Gradually seizing the dominant role, Shang Lu didn't change positions. He simply thrust his hips upward relentlessly, his thick, rigid cock pumping and pummeling furiously inside her cunt. Finally, as her whole body convulsed, he released everything deep inside her.
Once the thoroughly satisfying fuck was over, both of them returned to calmness.
Zhao Yu used his bathroom to shower again, changed back into her own clothes, and bid him farewell.
Shang Lu let her call a car and leave. Once she was gone, he threw the bathrobe she had worn directly into the trash.
For other men and women, sex was an important catalyst for strengthening emotional bonds. But for them, sex was the medicine that restored clarity.
Those ungoverned emotions that occasionally surfaced when they were out of bed, beyond the control of reason, could always be utterly annihilated the moment they got into bed.
Only in bed, in those repeated couplings devoid of emotion and driven solely by lust, could they clearly see their relationship for what it was.
Before, he was her sugar daddy, she his mistress. He paid money; she contributed her body.
Just now, they had already stepped outside that relationship—but it could still only be counted as a transaction.
Just as she said: when she was at her most powerless, he helped her, gave her someone to lean on. She repaid him with her body.
And then, they continued to owe each other nothing.
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