Chapter 17: Provocation
The villa’s hallway was silent. There was only the sound of their footsteps, one fast, one slow, and the sound of water dripping from their wet bodies onto the polished tile floor. He walked ahead, she followed. A silent chase.
Minh stopped in front of a door, opened it and stepped in. Ngan followed. The moment she was inside, the door slammed shut behind her.
“CLACK.”
The dry click of the door latch echoed in the silence of the room like a verdict. They were sealed off from the outside world. The arena had been set. The room was cold from the air conditioning. The bedsheets were white and flat, emotionless. In the distance, the sound of the ocean waves still beat steadily and rhythmically, a merciless drumbeat for the coming battle.
Ngan turned around, intending to say something sarcastic, a final challenge. But she didn’t get the chance.
In a split second, Minh’s smirk vanished. It was replaced by something else, something primal. His eyes darkened, a predatory gaze, devoid of all reason. He lunged.
Not a hug. A shove. He used all his solid body weight to press her against the wooden door behind her.
“THAM!”
Ngan’s bare back hit the cold, hard wood. A small, painful “ah” was strangled in her throat. His entire weight was on her, an absolute possession, not giving her a chance to breathe or think.
He didn’t kiss. He devoured her. His lips pressed against hers roughly, crushingly, without any tenderness. He used his teeth to lightly bite her lower lip, hard enough for her to taste the strong, salty blood spreading in her mouth. A shock, a terrifying stimulation. His tongue pried open her lips, invading like a conqueror, stirring wildly. The sound of lips and tongues colliding was wet and aggressive.
His hands weren’t caressing. They were instruments of domination. One of his hands was in her wet hair, gripping and pulling back, forcing her to tilt her head back, exposing her entire white neck, a position of surrender. The other hand slid down, squeezing one of her ass cheeks through the wet bikini, rough fingers digging into the soft flesh, a dry “slap” sound. At the same time, his rock-hard cock slammed into her stomach, an unspoken promise of brutal penetration to come. He growled, a deep sound escaping from his chest, the sound of an animal finding its prey.
Minh’s attack continued against the door, a storm of flesh, teeth, and tongue. But Ngan’s initial surprise had faded. The shock had been replaced by something else: a fire. A fire of anger, of pent-up frustration, and a sick excitement. She was not prey. She was a cornered tigress.
In the middle of the passionate kiss, Ngan suddenly bit hard on Minh’s lower lip. A decisive, retaliatory bite, without any hesitation. The sound of teeth clashing was a sharp “clack”. He was startled, let out a “gulp” in his throat and reflexively stepped back. Blood oozed from his lips, and now that salty, fishy taste belonged to both of them. A combination of violence.
Taking advantage of that millisecond, Ngan used her knee to lightly nudge the man between the legs. It was not strong enough to cause pain, but enough to create a physical distance, enough to break the rhythm of his attacks. It was a physical warning: “I am not someone to be bullied.”
The physical struggle had stopped. It was now a confrontation of the eyes. He looked at her, his eyes both surprised and awed. He had found a worthy opponent. He licked the blood from his lips with his tongue, the way an animal tastes its own wound. He sneered, a wild, hoarse laugh.
“Miss Nuoi is really scary. As fierce as a tiger.”
Ngan gasped, her chest heaving. Her wet hair stuck to her face. Her eyes glittered with madness. A defiant smile slowly spread across her red, swollen, bloodstained lips. Her voice was hoarse with excitement, but full of provocation. She looked straight into his eyes and said a short sentence, a knife stabbing straight into a man’s pride.
“Is that all?”
Minh’s smile faded. His eyes lost the last glimmer of control. The provocation had succeeded. The beast was truly enraged. He roared, a deep, primal sound that echoed in the cold room. He lunged forward, not to kiss her, but to lift her off the ground like a trophy.
The battle is about to move to a new, more intense, and more naked location. And this time, it’s a battle that both sides want.
The large bed with its smooth, white sheets became an altar. Minh threw Ngan down there without any gentleness. Her body sank into the mattress, a soft, solid thud. She did not resist. She just lay there, panting, looking at him with eyes still burning with defiance, a tigress waiting for the next attack.
But Minh didn’t attack. He wouldn’t penetrate right away. He would “destroy” her by worshiping the part he craved most. A sweet torture.
He didn’t undress. He knelt on the bed, between her legs, a dominant position. Then, he used both hands to grab the thin bikini material covering her upper body and tore it off.
“SWISH!”
The sound of tearing cloth rang out coldly and cruelly. Ngan’s large, thick, round breasts were freed. They bounced under the yellow light of the bedroom, like two white, lively spheres. The smooth white flesh contrasted with the two dark nipples, which were erect from the cold and from the stimulation. Minh stared at them, his breathing becoming heavy. His voice was a hoarse growl, a whisper of passion.
“Your breasts… Damn, they’re so beautiful. I just want to bite them off.”
He didn’t just say it. He buried his face in the valley between her breasts, took a deep breath, a breath full of longing, like a starving man who had just found life. Then the torture began. His mouth covered one nipple, sucking hard, making wet “chut chut” sounds, like a newborn baby frantically sucking on its mother. Then he used his teeth to gently bite it, a bite that didn’t cause pain but only sent electric currents of pleasure running down her spine. Ngan screamed “Ah!”, a cry of both pain and satisfaction, stuck in her throat. He moved to the other side, using his tongue to rotate, lick, slowly, as if savoring a precious dessert. Meanwhile, his two large hands squeezed the two breasts, kneading them mercilessly. Soft flesh oozed through his fingers, deformed, then swelled up again. Her white skin quickly turned red under his torment, leaving red handprints. The sound of her flesh being squeezed rang out, “bang thump”, naked.
Ngan’s defiance was shattered. She no longer had control of her body. She writhed. Her back arched, an unconscious surrender, pushing her breasts toward him. Her moans were no longer provocation, they were pure surrender to pleasure and pain. A release. His gasps mixed with hers, creating a chaotic symphony of primal instinct.
Ngan was completely subdued. Her body was a map of destruction, red, soaked with sweat and gastric juices, trembling with the spasms of unending pleasure. Minh finally stood up, ripping off his own clothes, revealing a toned body, a machine of desire. The sound of fabric being ripped impatiently “scratched”.
Minh’s penis was already fully erect, dark, with blue veins bulging out like a roaring beast demanding release. He pressed her down, spreading her legs, preparing for the final penetration. But then, he stopped. He cursed, “Fuck!”, a sound of naked frustration. He reached for his wallet on the table. The moment he fumbled to tear the condom wrapper, the dry “scratch” sound rang out out of place, a realistic, almost comical interruption in the storm of instinct.
Then he turned back. There was no more interruption.
“Ah!”
A sharp scream, a mixture of pain and shock, escaped Ngan’s lips as he thrust in. There was no probing. No preparation. Just a straight thrust, a brutal invasion. He let out a deep growl as he began his rhythm – a mechanical rhythm, fast, strong, and emotionless. The sounds of wet flesh slapping together, “bang bang,” “slap slap,” filled the silence of the room, steady and merciless.
After the initial shock, Ngan began to respond. She didn’t moan in pleasure. She fought. Her nails raked across his sweaty back, leaving red, bloody marks. She gasped, but her voice was laced with sarcasm.
“Weak! Is that all?”
He smirked, a devilish grin. He gripped her hips tightly, his fingers digging into her flesh until they left bruises. “Really? Let’s see how long a bitch like you can last!” – he replied, and the rhythm became more frantic, a punishment.
The battle raged. Their words were knives, their curses were filthy, their bodies were weapons.
“You beast!” she screamed, her back arching, her hips pushing back to meet each thrust. “Fuck me if you can! Fuck me to death!”
“You slutty monster!” he roared, each thrust an assertion of power. “I’m going to fuck your pussy to pieces! Scream more! Scream like a whore for me!”
It was a collective annihilation. He let out one last roar, a wounded beast’s roar, gave a mighty thrust, and exploded. His entire body tensed and then went limp. At the same time, Ngan screamed too, a heart-rending scream of release and destruction. Her body convulsed violently, the spasms of orgasm so strong it was painful. “Ah… Ah… Ah… Ah…!!!”
He collapsed beside her, not on top of her. Their bodies lay side by side like defeated soldiers on a battlefield covered by the white bedsheets, now crumpled and twisted, stained with sweat and bodily fluids.
Silence fell. A heavy, thick silence. No more growling, no more screaming. Just breathing. Two gasps, rapid, trying to steal oxygen from the air. Gradually, they slowed, becoming deeper and more even. The pounding of the heart in the chest gradually subsided. The air in the room was thick with the smell of sweat, sex, and exhaustion. The cold air conditioning only accentuated the heat radiating from the two bodies.
Their skin was a map of the battle. Long, bloody scratches on his back. Bruises were beginning to appear on her hips, marks from clenched fingers. Both their lips were swollen, and would probably be bruised by morning.
After a moment of silence that seemed endless, Minh suddenly burst out laughing. It was a hoarse, guttural laugh, hoarse from exhaustion, but there was no mistaking the pleasure in it.
Ngan, lying motionless, staring at the ceiling, heard the laughter. She turned around, looking at his sweaty face. Then she laughed too, a weak, but complicit laugh. They laughed together, a crazy, uncontrollable laugh that echoed in the quiet room, like two people who had just escaped death.
She punched him weakly on the shoulder, a punch that lacked any strength. The “pop” sound was very light.
Between laughs and gasps, Minh spoke, his voice hoarse and broken.
“Fuck… I… I thought I was going to die… You… are such a monster…”
Ngan replied, her voice was also hoarse, weak, but full of meaning.
“You… are also crazy… You animal…”
Their laughter rang out again. They were not lovers. They were not friends. They were accomplices who had just survived a war of their own making. Their “best friend” pact had been sealed not with words, but with blood, sweat, and a fit of mad laughter. A bond deeper, and more dangerous, than any oath.