Be Gentle, Immortal Master

Be Gentle, Immortal Master

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    [Warning: Mature Content]

    “Master, are we going to keep what happened last night a secret between us?”

    “For how loud you moaned and cried, Qing-er, I think the whole world has already learned all about it, and your concern is irrelevant.”

    Yun Qing-er, the only disciple of the legendary immortal swordmaster Bai Ye, has been hiding her feelings for her master for years. Unaccepted by norms and morals, it is the darkest secret that she swears to bury deep within her heart.

    But life has other plans. Bai Ye's desire for her burns hot beneath his solemn appearance. He will teach her not only the art of the sword, but also the pleasures of life that she never knew existed before.


    Smut starts at Chapter 17, with a teaser in Chapter 11. A bit softcore at first but will get wilder quickly as the story moves on :)

    Note that this is NOT a typical cultivation romance. Immortals and spiritual power and whatnot are all plot devices… You'll see what I mean in just a few chapters!


    [Sneak Peek]

    He pinned me against the poplar tree at the center of the garden. A breeze rustled past, stirring the sunlight sparkling through the autumn foliage above us, and a sprinkle of gold fell over his shoulders. “Say you want me,” he whispered.

    “Bai Ye—” I breathed, but the rest of my words were replaced by moans the moment he traced his kisses along my neck and took my earlobe into his mouth.

    Familiar tingles roared through me as he nibbled and suckled gently. His hand slid up my chest, and he played with my sensations with his lips and tongue and fingers until my arms trembled around him. All other thoughts vanished from my mind. The only thing I knew was the irresistible feeling of him on me, so overwhelming that my knees started growing weak. I would've fallen if he wasn't pinning me hard against the tree.

    “Bai Ye …” I moaned again, clawing at his clothes. “Of course I want you … Right here, right now.”

    He let out a soft puff of laughter, and his hand grazed down, gripping the folds of my dress. With a rip of fabric, he tore them away.

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