Chapter 2: Chapter 2
Ji-hoon's breath caught as she positioned herself over him, her legs parting to accommodate his length. The look in her eyes was pure challenge, a silent dare to resist her. He could feel the heat radiating from her, the wetness seeping through her skirt, and his cock throbbed painfully in response. His fingers dug into her hips, his grip bruising as he fought the urge to take control.
She was rubbing herself against him, her wet pussy sliding along his length, and it was driving him fucking crazy. He could feel the heat of her, the way her body responded to his, and it took every ounce of self-control he had not to flip her onto her back and drive into her with all the pent-up frustration and desire that had been building between them for years. But he didn't.
Instead, he watched her with that same cold, calculating gaze, his fingers tightening on her hips as she ground herself against him. The friction was obscene, the wet heat of her pussy sliding against the length of his cock, and he could feel the blood pounding in his veins. His breath came in ragged gasps as she moved, her hips rolling in slow, deliberate circles that made his cock twitch with need.
"Fuck," he groaned, his voice a low, guttural sound that echoed in the empty storage room. "You're going to kill me."
She smirked, her eyes dark with challenge. "Maybe I want to," she whispered, her voice barely audible but filled with a dangerous edge. "Maybe I want to see you lose control."
Ji-hoon's grip on her hips tightened, his fingers digging into her flesh as she continued to grind against him.
The friction was intense, the heat of her pussy searing against the head of his cock. He could feel the wetness of her, the way her body responded to his, and it was driving him fucking crazy. He wanted to bury himself inside her, to feel her tighten around him as he filled her completely. But he held back, his self-control hanging by a thread.
Suddenly, her skirt rode up, exposing her fully to him. His cock hit her pussy, the head slipping inside just enough to make them both gasp. Ji-hye's eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat as she looked down at where they were joined. The sight of her, open and vulnerable, was almost too much for Ji-hoon to bear. He groaned, his fingers flexing on her hips as he fought the urge to slam into her.
'Fuck,' he growled, his voice ragged.
The sound vibrated through her as she continued to grind against him, her hips moving in slow, deliberate circles that made his cock throb painfully in response. The friction between them was obscene, the wet heat of her pussy sliding along his length, and he could feel the blood rushing to his cock with every movement. Ji-hye's breath hitched as she felt the head of his cock slip deeper inside her, the heat and wetness enveloping him. His fingers dug into her hips, bruising her flesh through the thin fabric of her skirt, but she didn't care. She wanted this, wanted him, and she wasn't going to stop until she had both.
She leaned forward slightly, her breasts pressing against his chest, the soft fabric of her blouse doing little to hide the hard peaks of her nipples. Ji-hoon could feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles coiled tight, ready to snap.
She continued rubbing against him, her hips rolling in slow, deliberate circles that made his cock throb painfully with each movement. The friction was obscene, the wet heat of her pussy sliding along his length, and he could feel the wetness of her arousal coating his cock, making it slick and slippery. His breath came in ragged gasps, his fingers tightening on her hips as he fought to maintain control. The cold, hard concrete beneath them did nothing to cool the inferno between them.
"Ji-hye," he growled, his voice strained and thick with desire. "You're going to be the death of me."
She smirked, her eyes dark and challenging as she continued to grind herself against him. The sound of their bodies slapping together echoed in the empty storage room, a wet, obscene sound that only seemed to fuel her.
She could feel the head of his cock trapped between her thighs, slick with her arousal, the tip pressing against her clit with every slow grind. Ji-hoon’s fingers dug into her hips, his nails biting into her skin through the thin fabric of her skirt as he fought to maintain control. She was close—so close—to pushing him over the edge, to seeing that powerful man reduced to nothing but a panting, desperate mess beneath her.
She pulled her skirt down with a sharp, deliberate motion, the fabric snapping back into place with a sound like a whip. But his cock remained trapped, the head still wedged between her slick folds, the tip glistening with her juices. Ji-hoon’s breath hitched, his body tensing as she slowly lifted her hips, teasing him with the friction of her wetness.
Her pussy clamped down hard on the head of his cock, and he groaned, a deep, guttural sound that echoed in the empty room. "Fuck, Ji-hye," he growled, his fingers digging into her hips, holding her in place. "You're playing with fire."
She smirked, her eyes dark and challenging. "Maybe I like the heat," she whispered, her voice barely audible but filled with a dangerous edge. She leaned forward, her lips brushing against his ear. "Maybe I want to see you burn."
His grip on her hips tightened, his fingers bruising her flesh as he fought to maintain control. The head of his cock was still trapped between her thighs, slick with her arousal, the tip pressing against her clit with every slow grind.
She continued rubbing against him, her hips rolling in slow, deliberate circles that made his cock throb painfully, the friction building between them like a storm gathering force. Her breath hitched as she felt the head of his cock slip deeper inside her, the heat and wetness enveloping him, the fabric of his trousers damp with her juices. Ji-hoon’s fingers dug into her hips, his nails biting into her skin through the thin fabric of her skirt, but she didn’t flinch. She wanted this—wanted him—and she wasn’t going to stop until she had both.
She lifted her hips again, this time grinding down harder, her pussy clenching around the head of his cock, and a low groan escaped his lips. His breath came in sharp gasps, his body tensing as she continued to move, her hips rolling in a rhythm that made his cock twitch and throb inside her.
The fabric of his trousers was soaked with her arousal, the sound of her wetness slick against his skin driving him to the brink of madness. Ji-hoon’s fingers dug deeper into her hips, his grip bruising as he fought to maintain control over the situation.
"Fuck, Seo," he growled, his voice strained and thick with desire. "You're going to drive me insane."
She smirked, her eyes dark and full of challenge, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered, "Maybe that’s the point."
Ji-hye leaned forward, her breasts pressing against his chest, the fabric of her blouse straining against the hard peaks of her nipples.
Her breath was hot against his ear as she whispered, her voice a low, sultry purr, "You talk too much, Ji-hoon."
She didn’t wait for a response. Instead, she ground her hips down harder, her pussy swallowing the head of his cock inch by inch. The sensation was overwhelming—her wet heat enveloping him, the tight clench of her muscles around the thick ridge of his crown. Ji-hoon’s breath hitched, his fingers digging into the flesh of her hips hard enough to leave marks.
"Fuck," he groaned, his voice a low, guttural growl.
Ji-hoon's fingers tightened on her hips, his grip bruising as she continued to grind herself against him. The friction was obscene, the wet heat of her pussy sliding along his length, and he could feel the blood rushing to his cock with every movement. His breath came in sharp, ragged gasps as she moved, her hips rolling in slow, deliberate circles that made his cock twitch painfully in response.
Ji-hye leaned back slightly, her eyes locked onto his as she lifted her hips just enough to let the head of his cock slip out of her.
The wet sound of their bodies parting was obscene, the air between them thick with the scent of sex. Ji-hoon’s breath came in ragged gasps, his fingers still digging into her hips like he was afraid she might disappear.
Then, without warning, Seo Ji-hye’s nails sank into his thighs—hard enough to bruise—her grip unrelenting as she forced his knees to bend. His legs gave way without resistance, the sudden shift knocking the air from his lungs. She didn’t let him catch his balance. Her fingers tightened, dragging him down until his back hit the cold concrete with a thud that echoed through the empty boardroom.
The impact jarred him, but Ji-hye didn’t stop. She straddled him, her thighs pressing against his hips, her skirt riding up again, the cool air brushing against her bare skin. Her eyes, dark and intense, never left his as she reached down, her fingers wrapping around the base of his cock. She positioned herself over him, her pussy lips parting to reveal the glistening entrance. Ji-hoon's breath hitched, his fingers digging into her thighs as he watched, helpless, as her pussy devoured his cock now, inch by inch, until he was fully sheathed inside her.
"Fuck," he groaned, his head tilting back, the tendons in his neck straining. The sensation was overwhelming—her tight heat enveloping him, the slick walls of her pussy clenching around him. He could feel every ridge, every pulse of his cock as she took him deeper, her body adjusting to his size.
The head of his cock jerked violently as she ground down, the sensation so intense it made him gasp. His fingers dug into her hips, his nails biting into her flesh through her skirt, the pain grounding him as she moved with a precision that bordered on cruelty. The cold concrete beneath them did nothing to cool the inferno between them, the heat radiating from her body searing his skin.
Seo Ji-hye’s eyes never left his as she began to move, her hips rolling in slow, deliberate circles that made his cock throb painfully with each movement. The friction was obscene, her wet heat enveloping him, the tight clench of her pussy muscles making him groan. His breath came in ragged gasps, his fingers tightening on her hips as she continued to grind herself down onto him, her pussy swallowing his cock inch by agonizing inch.
"Fuck, Seo," Ji-hoon growled, his voice strained and thick with desire.
His fingers dug into her hips, his nails biting into her flesh as she continued to ride him with a relentless rhythm that made his cock throb painfully. The head of his cock was buried deep inside her, the tightness of her pussy squeezing him with every movement, making him feel like he was going to explode.
She rode him harder, her hips snapping forward with a ferocity that made his breath catch. The wet, obscene sound of her pussy swallowing his cock filled the room, the slickness of her arousal coating his length as she ground down on him. Ji-hoon’s eyes rolled back in his head as she tightened her pussy around him, the muscles clenching and unclenching in a rhythm that drove him to the brink. His fingers dug deeper into her hips, his grip bruising as he fought to maintain control, but it was a losing battle.
Ji-hye's pussy clamped down hard on the head of his cock, and he groaned, a deep, guttural sound that echoed in the empty room. "Fuck, Ji-hye," he growled, his voice strained and thick with desire. "You're going to make me come." "Maybe that's the point," she whispered, her voice barely audible but filled with a dangerous edge. "I want to see you lose control, Ji-hoon.
I want to feel you unravel beneath me," Seo Ji-hye whispered, her breath hot against his ear as she tightened her pussy around his cock with deliberate malice. Her hips snapped forward, her wet heat milking his cock violently, the tightness of her muscles squeezing him like a vise, and he couldn't hold back any longer. The sensation was overwhelming—her pussy walls clenching and releasing in rapid succession, milking the cum from him with ruthless precision.
His body arched off the cold concrete, his fingers clawing at her hips as his cock jerked uncontrollably inside her. "Fuck!" Ji-hoon roared, his voice raw with the force of his orgasm. His cock pulsed violently, thick ropes of cum shooting deep inside her, filling her with his release. The sound of his cum filling her was obscene, the wet, sloppy noises of his release echoing in the empty boardroom.
Ji-hoon's cock throbbed with every shot, each pulse sending a jolt of pleasure through him, making his body convulse beneath her. Ji-hye's pussy clenched around him, milking him, drawing out every last drop until he was spent and panting, his chest heaving against her breasts. She could feel the heat of his cum inside her, the wetness seeping out, coating his still-hard cock and her thighs. She didn't move, didn't let him pull out, instead she leaned down, her lips brushing against his ear. "I told you I wanted to see you lose control," she whispered, her voice a low, sultry purr.
The cool air of the storage room did nothing to cool the fire between them. Her eyes locked with his, a silent challenge. Then she shifted, positioning herself above him. She didn’t look down. She guided him with one hand, her grip tight around his shaft, the head of his cock brushing against her slick, open flesh. He hissed through his teeth, a sharp intake of breath that wasn't quite a word.
She took him in, a slow, torturous inch at a time.
Her body stretched to accommodate him, a familiar, burning fullness that stole her breath. She paused when he was fully seated inside her, her inner muscles clenching instinctively around his thickness, drawing a ragged groan from deep in his chest. His head fell back against the cold server rack with a dull thud. For a moment, there was only the sound of their harsh breathing and the faint, distant hum of the building.Then she moved.
She rose up, her thighs burning with the effort, until only the tip of him remained inside. She hovered there, her pussy glistening, her body trembling with the strain and the sensation. His hands flew to her hips, his fingers digging into the soft flesh.
"HIS FINGERS BRUISED HER HIPS AS SHE RODE HIM SLOW."
His grip was possessive, punishing, as if he wanted to imprint his handprints onto her skin. She sank back down, swallowing him whole again, a low moan escaping her lips. The pace was agonizing, a deliberate, grinding rhythm that was less about pleasure and more about power. Each downward stroke was a claim. Each retreat, a taunt.
“Is this what you wanted?” she breathed, her voice barely a whisper over the wet sound of their joining. “All those years, plotting your little revenge… did you imagine it would end with your cock buried inside me in a fucking basement?”
His eyes snapped open. They were black with fury and a hunger so deep it scared her. He bucked his hips up, driving into her with a sudden, brutal thrust that knocked the air from her lungs. “I imagined making you break,” he growled. “I imagined you begging.”
She laughed, a short, breathless sound. She tightened around him, a vicious, internal squeeze, and watched his composure crack. “I don’t beg.”
“We’ll see.”
He took over then. His hands on her hips became a vise, controlling her, slamming her body down onto his with a force that shook the rack behind him. The slow, grinding torture was over, replaced by a raw, pounding rhythm. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the cramped cage, echoing off the metal shelves. He fucked up into her with a frantic, desperate energy, each thrust hitting a spot deep inside that made her see stars.
She clawed at his shoulders, his neck, leaving red trails on his skin. Her carefully constructed world, her ice-queen persona, shattered with every jarring impact. This wasn’t corporate warfare. This was primitive, ugly, and real. This was the truth they’d both been running from, distilled into sweat and friction and pain.
“Tell me you know,” he grunted, his breath hot against her ear. His pace was relentless, punishing. “Tell me you fucking know what your running did. That you left me there for them.”
She couldn’t speak. Her orgasm was coiling, a tight spring in her gut, pulled taut by the brutal, perfect angle of his thrusts. She could only shake her head, her hair whipping around her face.
He grabbed a fistful of it, yanking her head back, exposing her throat. He bit the tendon there, not hard enough to break skin, but enough to make her cry out. “You knew,” he insisted, driving the words into her with his body. “You saw their faces and you ran. You saved your own skin.”
“I was scared!” The confession tore from her, ripped out by the sheer physical force of him. “I was twenty-two and I was terrified!”
He stilled for a second, buried deep inside her, his body rigid. His face was inches from hers, his expression unreadable. Then he let out a shuddering breath, his grip on her hair loosening. “Yeah,” he said, his voice suddenly quiet, hollow. “So was I.”
The admission changed everything. The anger in his thrusts softened, transformed into something desperate, almost seeking. His mouth found hers again, but the kiss was different—not a battle, but a shared ruin. It was salt and heat and a bleak kind of understanding.
She came then, her body seizing around his in long, pulsing waves that had nothing to do with victory and everything to do with surrender. A broken sound escaped her throat, muffled against his mouth.
He followed seconds later, his own release a sharp, guttural shout he bit into her shoulder. He thrust up into her one last, final time, grinding his hips against hers as he emptied himself, his whole body shuddering with the force of it.
For a long minute, there was only the sound of their ragged breathing and the smell of sex and dust.
He slid out of her. The sudden emptiness was a shock. She slumped forward, her forehead resting against his collarbone, his suit jacket damp with their sweat. His hands, still resting on her hips, gentled. The bruises would be there tomorrow.
The fluorescent buzz of a distant light was the only sound.
He was the one who moved first. With a tenderness that contradicted everything that had just happened, he reached down and pulled her skirt back over her thighs. His fingers fumbled slightly with the button of her blouse.
She didn’t help him. She just watched his face, the stark lines of it in the bad light, the sweat drying on his temples. The CEO was gone. The vengeful specter was gone. In their place was just a man, as hollowed out as she was.
She shifted, wincing as she moved off him. Her legs were unsteady. She leaned against the cold chain-link, gathering herself.
He righted his own clothes with quiet, efficient motions, not looking at her. “The diaries,” he said finally, his voice rough. “You took one.”
She didn’t deny it. She nodded toward her briefcase, propped against the lockbox.
“Give it to me.”
This time, it wasn’t a command. It was a request, weary and edged with fear.
She looked at him for a long moment. Then she bent, opened the briefcase, and retrieved the simple black notebook. She held it out.
He took it. His fingers brushed against hers, a fleeting, electric contact. He didn’t open it. He just stared at the cover as if it were a live grenade.
“He knew,” Ji-hoon said, more to himself than to her. “The Wolf. He knew Dae-ho ordered it. And he carried out the order.” He looked up, his gaze finding hers. The truth was there, solid and horrible between them. “It wasn’t an accident. It was a fucking execution.”
“And you paid off the driver,” Ji-hye said, her voice flat.
“To keep him quiet. To keep the investigation superficial. To protect the company from a scandal that would have ruined my father.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I thought I was containing a tragic mistake. I was covering up my own attempted murder.”
The weight of it settled in the dusty air. Two decades of rage built on a foundation of half-truths.
“What do we do now?” she asked. The ‘we’ slipped out, inevitable.
He tucked the diary inside his jacket. The mask was returning, but it was cracked, and behind it she saw the cold, calculating engine restarting. “Now,” he said, his voice gaining its old steel, “we use it. We find the rest. We find the Assemblyman’s name. And we burn it all down.”
He offered her his hand. Not to help her up, but as a pact.
She looked at his outstretched palm, then at his face. The man who had just humiliated her, fucked her raw, and shared his deepest shame. The enemy. The only ally she had.
She took his hand. His grip was firm, warm.
“We burn it down,” she repeated.
Ji-hoon’s fingers tightened around hers—
The boardroom door swung open with a sharp metallic *click*.
Ji-hye’s breath caught as she recognized the silhouette in the doorway: Lee Dae-ho, his sharp suit immaculate, his expression unreadable. Ji-hoon’s grip on her hand turned bruising, his thumb pressing hard against her knuckles in a silent warning. *Hide.*
In one fluid motion, Ji-hoon yanked her behind the towering executive chair, his body shielding hers as he leaned casually against the conference table. His voice, when he spoke, was smooth, unruffled. "Dae-ho. I wasn’t expecting you today."
Ji-hoon's voice was calm, but his grip on her hand tightened, his thumb pressing hard against her knuckles in a silent warning. I had to slip under the table, my heart pounding in my chest, as Ji-hoon's body shielded mine. The tablecloth hung down, hiding me from view, but I could still see the polished shoes of the man who had just entered the room. Lee Dae-ho. The half-brother.
Ji-hoon's voice was steady, but I could feel the tension in his body, the barely contained anger. "What brings you here, Dae-ho?" he asked, his tone casual, as if he hadn't just been fucking me senseless mere moments ago. As if I wasn't hiding under the table, my body still throbbing from his touch.
Dae-ho's shoes took a few steps into the room, then stopped.
The polished leather gleamed under the fluorescent lights, the faint scent of his cologne—something expensive and sharp—filling the air. Ji-hoon's fingers tightened around her hand, his thumb pressing hard enough to bruise. *Stay still. Don't move.* His voice was smooth, unruffled, but she could feel the tension radiating off him like heat from a furnace. "I was just passing by and thought I'd stop in," Dae-ho said, his voice rich with that familiar, honeyed arrogance. "Heard there was a meeting scheduled."
Ji-hye's breath hitched as Dae-ho's gaze swept over the room, lingering just a second too long on the empty chairs around the table. She pressed herself deeper into the shadow beneath the table, her heart hammering so loudly she was sure he could hear it.
Ji-hoon's grip on her hand was like a vice, his knuckles white with tension. She could feel the heat radiating off him, the barely contained fury that threatened to boil over. She knew she had to do something, anything to keep him from losing control.
"Ji-hoon," she whispered, her voice barely audible, even to her own ears. She reached up, her hand trembling slightly as she rested it on his thigh. She could feel the muscles tense beneath her touch, the raw power of him coiled and ready to spring. She moved her hand slowly, her fingers brushing against the fabric of his trousers, feeling the hard length of him straining against the material. She froze, her breath catching in her throat as she realized what she was doing. She had meant to calm him, to ground him in the present, but her body had other ideas.
Her fingers curled around him, stroking him through the thin fabric of his pants, feeling the hard length of him pulse in response. Ji-hoon's breath hitched, his grip on her hand tightening as he fought to maintain control. Above them, Dae-ho's shoes shifted, taking a few steps closer to the table.
"Ji-hoon, are you alright?" Dae-ho's voice was laced with concern, but there was an undercurrent of suspicion that made Ji-hye's heart pound in her chest. She could feel Ji-hoon's body tense, his muscles coiling like a snake ready to strike. She stroked him again, her fingers tracing the length of him, feeling the heat of him through the material.
Ji-hoon's voice was steady, but she could hear the strain in it. "I'm fine, Dae-ho. Just...
just give me a moment, Dae-ho," Ji-hoon said, his voice tight. He was trying to keep the tremor out of it, but Ji-hye could feel it in his hand, in the way his fingers clenched around hers. Her pussy throbbed, a dull ache that was both satisfying and frustrating. She could feel the wetness between her legs, the evidence of their encounter. She shifted slightly, trying to ease the discomfort, and Ji-hoon's breath hitched again. His cock twitched in her hand, a hard, insistent pulse that made her bite her lip to keep from moaning.
Dae-ho's shoes didn't move. "Are you sure you're alright, Ji-hoon? You sound... different." There was a pause, and Ji-hye could almost see the calculating look on Dae-ho's face. "And why is it so warm in here?
You look like you’ve been running a fever, Ji-hoon," Dae-ho’s voice dripped with false concern, his polished shoes clicking against the polished floor. Ji-hoon’s fingers flexed around hers, his thumb pressing into the sensitive skin between her knuckles, a silent warning that didn’t need words. His cock throbbed harder beneath her touch, the wet fabric of his trousers clinging to his length, the heat radiating through the thin cotton like a brand.
Ji-hye’s breath hitched as she felt the thick, desperate pulse against her palm. *He’s not just angry. He’s fighting himself.* The realization sent a jolt of something dangerous through her—pride, maybe, or the thrill of knowing she’d unraveled him just as thoroughly as he’d unraveled her. She tightened her grip, just enough to make him groan, low and guttural, the sound vibrating against her ribs.
Her fingers slid up his zipper with deliberate slowness, the cold metal teeth parting against his skin, the fabric whispering open. The air hit her palm with a rush—warm, damp, the scent of him thick and musky, like sweat and something darker, something that made her stomach clench. Ji-hoon’s breath hitched, his body going rigid beneath her touch. The table rattled slightly as he fought to keep his balance, his knuckles white against the polished wood.
Dae-ho’s voice cut through the tension like a blade. *"Ji-hoon? You’ve gone very quiet."* His shoes were only a few feet away now, the sound of them scraping against the floor like nails on glass. Ji-hoon’s jaw clenched, but his hand didn’t stop moving.
Dae-ho’s shoes paused, the heel tapping a slow, rhythmic beat on the polished floor. “Ji-hoon?” he asked, his voice sharp, suspicious. “What are you doing?” Ji-hoon’s breath hitched as his cock slipped from her grip, the sudden loss of her touch making him grit his teeth. He could feel the wetness on his skin, the evidence of their encounter, and he knew Dae-ho would see it too. He could hear the rustle of fabric as Ji-hye shifted beneath the table, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. He could feel her eyes on him, waiting, and he knew he had to say something—anything—to keep Dae-ho from looking under the table. “I was just...” he started, his voice tight, “just checking my notes. For the meeting.” He gestured vaguely toward the table, his hand still hidden from Dae-ho’s view.
“I was just...” Ji-hoon trailed off, his voice tight with the effort of maintaining control. He could feel the heat of Ji-hye’s breath on his cock, the soft, wet touch of her tongue as she licked away the bead of pre-cum that had formed at the tip. His body jerked in response, a sharp, involuntary spasm that made the table rattle.
The sound was loud enough that Dae-ho’s head snapped toward the noise—just as Ji-hoon’s fingers clenched into a fist around the edge of the table, his knuckles whitening. His breath came in sharp, controlled bursts, his chest rising and falling with the effort of not turning around.
Her tongue swirled his dripping cockhead in slow, deliberate circles, the wet sound of her lips parting around him muffled beneath the table. The heat of her mouth was intoxicating, the way her tongue traced the vein pulsing along his shaft sending a jolt of electricity straight to his spine. His cock twitched in her mouth, the tip throbbing as she drew back just enough to let the pre-cum bead glisten before she took him deeper.
*"Fuck—"* Ji-hoon’s voice was a growl, low and guttural, barely audible over the hum of the fluorescent lights.
His hips bucked forward, his cock sliding deeper into Ji-hye’s mouth, the head of it hitting the back of her throat. She gagged slightly, her eyes watering, but she didn’t pull back. Instead, she reached up, her fingers wrapping around the base of his shaft, squeezing him tight as she took him in as far as she could.
Dae-ho’s shoes shifted, the heel tapping a slow, rhythmic beat on the floor. “What are you doing?” Ji-hoon’s breath hitched, his body tensing as Ji-hye’s tongue swirled around him, her fingers stroking the sensitive skin of his balls.
The sensation was almost too much, his cock throbbing painfully in her mouth. He could feel the heat radiating off her, the wetness of her lips, the way her tongue traced every inch of him. His hands clenched into fists, his knuckles turning white as he fought the urge to grab her and pull her onto his lap, right there in the boardroom."* Dae-ho’s voice was sharp, cutting through the tension like a knife. *"What the hell is going on?"*
Ji-hoon’s body jerked, his cock sliding deeper into Ji-hye’s mouth with a wet, obscene sound.
She could feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles coiled like a spring ready to snap. She knew he was fighting the urge to fuck her mouth, to use her like a toy, and the thought sent a thrill of excitement through her. She wanted him to lose control, to give in to the raw, animalistic desire that was simmering just beneath the surface.
She pulled back, her lips popping off the head of his cock with a loud, wet sound. She looked up at him, her eyes watering from the effort of taking him so deep. "Fuck me," she whispered, her voice hoarse with desire.
She licked her lips, her tongue darting out to catch a drop of pre-cum that had escaped from the tip of his cock. Ji-hoon's eyes darkened with lust, his pupils dilating as he watched her mouth glisten with his essence.
Ji-hoon's breath came in ragged gasps as he fought to keep his composure. "Dae-ho," he hissed, his voice barely audible, "I swear to God, if you don't leave right now—"
"Ji-hoon," Dae-ho's voice was calm, almost amused, "I can hear you. And I can hear something else too." His shoes stopped moving, the silence in the room becoming deafening.
Ji-hoon's eyes narrowed, his gaze flicking between Dae-ho and the table where Ji-hye was still hidden. He could feel the heat radiating off her, the scent of her arousal thick in the air. His cock throbbed, the head still glistening with pre-cum, and he knew he had to do something—fast.
Ji-hye's fingers traced the length of his cock, her touch light but deliberate. "You're going to fuck me right here, right now," she whispered, her voice a breathy, teasing purr. "And you're going to fuck me hard."
Ji-hoon's breath hitched, his body tensing with a mix of lust and fear.
He knew he had to get rid of Dae-ho, and fast. He couldn't risk him finding Ji-hye under the table, not like this. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what he was about to do.
"Dae-ho," he said, his voice steady despite the turmoil inside him. "I'm in the middle of something. Something... private. I need you to leave."
Dae-ho's shoes shifted, the heel tapping a slow, rhythmic beat on the floor. "Private?" he echoed, his voice laced with skepticism.