Breaking the Taboo (1v2, Blood Uncle and Nephew) - Chapter 11

Tonight’s medicine… besides the antipyretic, he’d mixed something else into it.

With his status, getting his hands on a sedative—or anything more potent—was effortless.

So he wasn’t at all worried about Li Mohan waking up midway.

By nature, he had no real interest in this sort of thing. In bed, he preferred women conscious—awake meant more flavor, more resistance, more of a thrill.

But Li Mohan… was his biological niece.

That made her entirely different from any woman outside.

His large hands roamed unrestrained over the swell of her chest, kneading softly through the fabric of her shirt.

He was vile. Shameless. Depraved to the core.

“Little Mohan, let Uncle tell you—men are all bad.”

His hands continued to grope, breathing growing heavier, heat and hunger overtaking him. He yanked open his collar, the stuffiness clawing at his skin.

The button-down shirt she wore now felt like the most useless thing in the world.

He had no patience to undo each button one by one. With a near-violent tug, he ripped the shirt open. Buttons popped off, scattering across the carpet, disappearing in an instant.

Shirts like this—Han Yezhen had plenty. He didn’t give a fvck.

He yanked the fabric downward, bunching it around her slender waist, revealing her pale, delicate shoulders. Two full, tender br3asts spilled into view, offered up bare before his eyes.

His breath hitched. Desire roared into a full blaze in his eyes.

Her tits were shaped beautifully—round, high, and perky. The areolas were slightly large, but the n1pples themselves were tiny, fresh pink buds like spring shoots just poking through the soil.

Not especially big, but just right. Two soft handfuls, perfect for squeezing, tormenting, controlling as he pleased.

The flesh of her br3asts was plush, elastic, spilling between his fingers, the texture sinfully addictive. Once his palms sank into that tender flesh, there was no pulling away.

Under his hands, her br3asts began to flush, heat radiating from the skin—but they were far too delicate. Red fingertip marks had already started to bloom across her skin.

In his eyes, that only made them more enticing.

He couldn’t help himself. Leaned in. Eyes half-lidded, he buried his face and dragged his coarse tongue over that snowy white flesh, licking and sucking until both tits glistened, slick with his saliva. Then, he sealed his lips over one of those dainty pink n1pples.

His tongue was hot. Wet. Drunk on the taste of her, he sucked deeply, greedily, his agile tongue swirling endlessly, playing mad circles over the faintly colored areola.

His wide palm cupped her other br3ast, groping and pressing, the tender fruit rolling under his fingers. Bit by bit, it swelled, stiffened, the soft pink hue deepening into a lewd, seductive cherry red.

Li Mohan frowned slightly, as if caught in some strange dream. Her body twisted restlessly, and a faint, unguarded moan slipped from her parted lips.

He wasn’t the type to show mercy.

That blushing little nub—he clamped it between his teeth, grinding and worrying it. What had been no larger than a grain of rice swelled up under his assault, standing tall and proud, red and swollen, flushed like a ripe peanut from how engorged it’d become.

Last time, Li Mohan had resisted hard. He’d faked drunkenness and forced his way in, no different than rape. There had been no foreplay. No care. Looking back, he regretted it—regretted not tasting her properly, not playing, not savoring.

But time was on his side. Tonight, he’d make up for everything he hadn’t done—everything he hadn’t touched, seen, or tasted.

Once he’d finished with one br3ast, Han Yezhen buried his face between the soft mounds, greedily inhaling, letting the sweet scent of girl and milk flood his nose.

The other n1pple, left untouched till now, quivered alone in the cool air, trembling, waiting—begging—for his bite.

Of course, Han Yezhen didn’t disappoint. He flicked his tongue out, wet and practiced, teasing the nub before sucking it into the warmth of his mouth, slurping lewdly, like it was the most exquisite delicacy.

The pale pink fruit swelled and hardened under his skilled mouth, and once it stiffened enough, he caught it between his lips and teeth, tugging, stretching it until it lengthened visibly under the pressure.

He wanted so badly to swallow the whole br3ast—to devour it—but held back. Didn’t want to leave marks that couldn’t be explained.

The sticky, obscene sounds of his suckling filled the room. He raised his head, n1pple still between his lips, eyes locked on her face, watching.

Her expression had changed—more flustered now. Her brows knit tighter, a peachy blush rising up her cheeks. Her breath had turned ragged.

Both n1pples stood stiff and erect. The pale red skin flushed deeper with heat, like the trace of fire passing over her flesh.

Satisfied, he let the swollen bud slip from his lips.

Both br3asts glistened with spit, shining under the light, wet and inviting—irresistibly seductive.