Ming Ji's hand suddenly tightened, *possessive.*
"Not yet. I'll have you *screaming* for me… but not just yet."
"You're close, aren't you?" he teased, voice low. "Aching, *desperate* for more. But *I* get to decide when you come, baby. You don't get to come until I say so."
Jin sobbed—a broken, desperate sound. "Please, *please,*" he gasped, "please let me come, I'll do anything, I'll be *good*..."
"I know you will, baby," he murmured against his skin. "You're so *good* for me… so willing to listen to everything I say. And right now… I'm saying you don't get to come. Not until I'm *certain* you've learned your damn lesson."
Jin *whimpered*—so damn desperate, so *tense*, every muscle taut like a bowstring. "God… please, I can't—I *need* you," he gasped. "Please… please let me come…"
̶"You *need* me?" Ming Ji echoed, voice dark and slow. He leaned in, lips grazing his ear. "Then prove it."
His hand stopped completely—leaving Jin trembling, desperate, *hanging.*
