Apocalypse King: Recruiting S-Tier Beauties With My Ruler System-Chapter 55: Aftertaste

March 17th, 20xx, 01:48 am.

—

I stood there, panting, the last pulse of release still fading through my thighs.

Qinglan was kneeling at my feet.

Her face—fucked

Her lips glistened, slightly parted. My cum streaked across her chin, her cheek, her nose, even a drip hanging from the edge of her jaw. Spit and seed clung to her lashes and hair, and her tongue peeked from the corner of her mouth as she slowly caught her breath.

I was still hard.

Somehow.

Still twitching, sensitive, hanging just inches from her face.

Qinglan looked up at me with glassy eyes, her breathing still shallow and rapid. Then, her fingers reached out, closing softly around my sensitive tip.

She stroked me once.

Twice.

Her thumb brushed the slimy tip.

"You’re exhausted," she said quietly. "We don’t have to rush this, John."

Her voice was soft, hoarse, coated in everything she’d just swallowed.

The sight of her messy face, dripping with my fluids, made me realise what had happened. I noticed that in my virgin desire for pleasure... I’d done nothing for her.

I stared down at her.

"What about you?" I asked, voice quieter than I expected.

She didn’t answer at first.

Instead, she leaned in and sniffed, then snorted a moment after. She kissed the tip of my cock, slowly, like an affectionate lover, almost tender as her lips lingered against the glans, eyes never leaving mine.

Then she pulled back.

A thread of cum stretched from my tip to her mouth. It stuck across her lips as she smiled faintly.

Her eyes flashed for a second.

Red.

They flashed red!

My chest rattled at the thought she was still a zombie, or that the cure failed.

Then gone.

"I already got my reward," she whispered.

And then she licked her lips—slow, deliberate, curling her tongue around the mess, collecting every last trace... and swallowed.

I blinked, my thoughts falling apart.

"What... was that?"

She tilted her head, thoughtfully.

"Mmm. Salty. Warm. Slimy... Not what I expected." Her tongue tapped the corner of her mouth again. "Not bad enough to make me stop."

’What?’

I was still frozen. Breathless. Half-aroused, half-confused.

Then she leaned forward, resting her cheek against my bare stomach, her arms curling lightly around my waist.

"Help me clean up!" she asked, her voice cold, sharp and just like the ceo I knew.

"Yeah," I murmured. "Yeah, of course."

***

The steam curled upward from the tap as I filled the basin.

Qinglan sat on the edge of the counter, jacket gone, boots off, the curve of her shoulder bare and catching the warm yellow glow of the single hanging bulb.

I wet the cloth.

She didn’t say a word when I stepped close.

She just looked up at me and tilted her chin slightly, offering her face like a queen awaiting her handmaid.

I smiled despite myself.

The cloth was warm when I touched it to her cheek, wiping a streak from her jawline. Her eyes slipped half-shut, a low, satisfied hum vibrating in her throat.

"You’re enjoying this," I said.

"Of course," she murmured. "Why wouldn’t I?"

I ran the cloth gently along her temple, her lips, down the slope of her neck. She leaned forward slowly, her forehead brushing my chest, and rested there, quiet, relaxed, as if nothing in the world existed but this moment, this warmth.

Her voice came muffled.

"You taste different than I imagined."

I paused.

"Different how?"

She smirked against my skin.

"Like... someone with secrets." Her eyes narrowed, a different Qinglan... a Mu Qinglan only I knew appeared. "Haha, you look cute when nervous."

Her arms wrapped around my waist again, holding me loosely.

"I got to see another side of John, hehe."

And I realised, for all the wild things she’d just done, we weren’t so different.

And this might be the part she liked most—leaning into me like this, letting me care for her, even while pretending she didn’t need it.

I kissed the top of her head.

She didn’t move.

Didn’t let go.

The cloth moved slowly across her jaw.

I took my time.

Her skin was still flushed, her lips sticky and slightly raw from what she’d just done—but she didn’t complain. If anything, she seemed to enjoy it greatly.

Mu Qinglan tilted her face toward the cloth, leaning into each pass like it was a luxury.

"You’re surprisingly gentle," she murmured.

"I just watched you choke on me for five straight minutes," I said, rinsing the cloth again in warm water. "You’ve earned it."

She smiled. Lazy. Wicked. "You say that like I didn’t enjoy it." Then she looked concerned and turned to me, water splashing from the bath. "D-Do you not like perverted women?" The switch between soft lover, cold queen and this... shy and nervous woman twisted my heart and really made me want to spoil her.

"I love perverted women, if they are called Qinglan.

I wiped at the edge of her mouth, catching another small streak near her lips. Her tongue flicked out suddenly, licking the side of my hand, and I tensed without meaning to.

Her grin widened.

"Still sensitive?"

"Still human," I muttered.

She chuckled, the sound low and tired, but satisfied.

When I finished, I stepped back slightly. Qinglan stretched arms up, body arching—and the rise of her breasts beneath her thin top made my mouth dry again. Even when she wasn’t trying to seduce me, she did.

Maybe especially then.

"I’ll go grab a towel," I said.

But her hand caught my wrist before I could move.

"I’m dry enough," she said.

Then she slid off the counter.

Not fast—slow, like liquid easing down from a higher place. Qinglan pressed against me for a second, her cheek grazing my collarbone as she passed.

Her fingers lingered along my waist.

Then let go.

She walked barefoot across the floor toward the bedroom, her hips shifting with each step, her hair still mussed and trailing down her back.

I followed.

—

March 17th, 20xx, 02:58 am.

—

She pulled back the sheets and dropped into them like she’d owned them for years.

Then rolled onto her side.

I sat down beside her.

The room was dark now, only a sliver of moonlight painting the edge of the mattress. Qinglan pulled the blanket halfway up her waist, one bare shoulder still exposed. Her eyes were half-closed, watching me without blinking.

"You’re staring," she said.

"I’m wondering if you’re going to try and ride me in my sleep."

She hummed. "Don’t tempt me."

Her fingers reached out, lightly trailing along the back of my hand. "But no. Not tonight."

"Why not?"

She shrugged. "Because I already got what I wanted."

My brows drew in. "What was that?"

Her eyes stayed on mine, unreadable in the dark.

Then she smiled—barely.

"You, desperate."

I huffed softly through my nose. "I’ll remember that."

"I hope so."

Her fingers stilled. I felt her breath slow.

"Qinglan?"

No answer.

Qinglan curved her lips faintly, but her eyes had shut.

One hand tucked under her cheek, the other resting near my thigh. She’d fallen asleep just like that.

I sat there beside her, still shirtless, heart still beating too fast.

My hands twitched, wanting to touch her hair again.

But I didn’t.

I just watched her.

In the silence, in the stillness.

Still warm.

Because I didn’t need to sleep anymore...