Breaking the Taboo (1v2, Blood Uncle and Nephew) - Chapter 1

Night pressed in thick as ink, and the top-floor room of the Jiman Club sat in darkness.

A man’s big hands pried her mouth open and rammed his c0ck inside. The blazing-hot, rock-hard thing was obscenely big; she sobbed and struggled, her mouth stuffed so full there wasn’t a sliver of space left.

He was thick and long. Halfway in and he was already hitting Li Mohan’s throat. He pumped in and out, and she could barely breathe, tears squeezing from the corners of her eyes.

He forced her thighs apart and pinned them down so she couldn’t move. All she could do was clutch at his thigh and rake it with her nails, but the more she did, the deeper his c0ck drove, spearing her throat, making her gag.

He suddenly pulled out, trailing filthy strings of slickness. The veined shaft gleamed, soaked in spit, catching a faint light in the gloom.

His face was blurred by the night. The ruthless, savage air tempered at the edge of life and death pressed down from his heavy, black eyes.

She flinched on instinct, breath turning ragged with fear.

She tried to open her mouth, but his hand closed around her neck. One rough tug and he tore her dress and panties apart.

The next moment, a sharp, ripping pain made her scream—

Her phone wouldn’t stop ringing. The hazy dream still clung between her brows as Li Mohan’s long, curled lashes trembled; she jolted awake, eyes snapping open to the ceiling.

Only then did she tear free of the dream.

She raised a hand and felt the wetness on her face.

It was the weekend. She’d been running nonstop for two days. Snatching a rare gap, she’d nodded off on the sofa in the break room.

Lately she kept having dreams like that. Every time she woke, her lashes were beaded with tears; she must have looked like she’d had a nightmare.

The phone was still ringing. Li Mohan tapped accept.

“Li Mohan, bring wine to the top floor.”

The floor manager’s voice came through her Bluetooth earpiece. Her long lashes fluttered. “Manager, the top floor isn’t my area.”

“I know, but everyone’s busy.” A pause. “After you bring it in, don’t look at anything. If you see something, pretend you didn’t—otherwise, you won’t live long. Got it?”

Li Mohan didn’t want to go upstairs and tried to say more, but the line cut.

At the top-floor room, she pressed the doorbell. The door opened moments later. Head down, she hid her face beneath her bangs.

The room was filled with pained groans. Her heart lurched, and her lashes lifted.

Amber light from the crystal chandelier poured over a man’s back. He stood with his back to her in a black vest, white shirt sleeves caught with garters, cuffs rolled to the elbow to bare a strong forearm. Both hands were gloved in black. His left fist had someone by the collar; his right fist was slamming punch after punch into the man on the floor.

The man being hit had no strength to fight back. Beyond those raw, instinctive screams, he was barely breathing.

The man in the gloves was hitting hard. Veins rose along his forearms, winding to the backs of his hands; even the gloves couldn’t hide the taut cords under his skin.

Just from his back, Li Mohan thought he looked familiar. She couldn’t help taking a few more glances.

The man on the ground had a crooked nose and a twisted face. Bright bl00d streamed from his forehead like a little brook, smeared over everything until, from a distance, he was nothing but bl00d.

She looked and then took a step back. Belatedly remembering the manager’s warning, she started to leave the room.

Before she could move, the man doing the hitting seemed to sense something. He snapped his head around and looked straight at her.

Li Mohan’s heart tightened as she saw his face clearly.

It was a face with sharp, aggressive lines, almost mixed-bl00d in its look.

Deep-set sockets, cold black eyes, emotions always distant and chill. The blade-edged features gave him a dangerous air that seemed to cling to his whole body.

It was her little uncle, Han Yezhen.

Two years ago he’d gone to Southeast Asia, supposedly to handle family business there.

In those two years away, Li Mohan hadn’t contacted him. She never expected he’d be back—and that she’d run into him here.

Now it was too late to walk away. She hesitated, rooted to the spot, head still bowed, and forced out a stiff, “Little Uncle.”

Specks of bl00d dotted Han Yezhen’s face. He tilted his head at her, as if trying to place who she was.

With her head down, she could feel his gaze on her—like it could pierce straight through.

Under that look, she felt stripped bare, inside and out.

The dream from moments ago flashed in her mind, and heat crept over her skin.

The silence stretched. The scent of bl00d hung heavy in the air. Li Mohan began to fidget, breath turning unsteady.

She’d been brought back to the Han family at ten, and her place there had always been awkward. All she wanted was to live quietly until she could stand on her own. So in the Han household she was always low-key, always silent, always careful.

If there was anyone she least wanted to deal with, it was her little uncle, Han Yezhen. She only wanted to get away.

Han Yezhen’s eyes stayed on her, deep and still. “What are you doing here?”