The rain tapped against the glass, city lights smearing the world beyond the penthouse in ribbons of neon and shadow. Inside, time had narrowed to the beat of breath, the slip of silk, the hungry promise of touch. Madam Ha-eun didn't hesitate. Her smile, slow and certain, was the last thing Joon-ho saw before she bent him back into the cushions and made him forget the world.
She kept the belt fastened around his wrists, tightening it just enough to remind him he was hers, then traced her fingers down his chest—possessive, greedy, not a question in her hands. Her silk dress clung to her body, every motion teasing him with glimpses of skin, the sharp line of her collarbone, the impossible curve of her thighs. She pressed her mouth to his jaw, her voice nothing but a breath. "Tonight, you don't get to hide. I want all of you."
