Chapter 21 (M)

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I felt my breath catch in my chest. She couldn't possibly mean that.

But when I looked into her eyes, I saw the pain, the fear, the confusion. And I realized, maybe, just maybe, she did.

I didn't have an answer. I didn't know what to say. And in that silence, we both knew that nothing would be the same again.

As soon as I took a step away from the entrance of my apartment, letting out a broken chuckle that I couldn't even recognize as my own, Lingling grabbed me—hard. Before I could react, my back was shoved against the wall, my breath catching in my throat.

Then her lips crashed onto mine.

It wasn't soft. It wasn't gentle. It was violent, desperate, as if she was trying to erase every word we had just thrown at each other. Her hands gripped my waist, fingers digging into my skin, pulling me closer like she needed me to breathe.

I should have pushed her away. I should have been furious. But instead, my body betrayed me, melting into the kiss, responding to her with the same fire, the same need. My hands found her dark silky hair, tugging, wanting to hurt her the way she hurt me with her words, wanting to make her feel everything I felt.

The anger, the love, the pain.

Lingling growled against my lips, one hand moving up to grip my jaw, tilting my head so she could deepen the kiss. She bit down on my lower lip, hard enough to make me gasp, and I felt her smirk against my mouth.

"Don't—" I tried to speak, but she didn't let me. She devoured the words before they could leave my lips, kissing me even harder, as if she wanted to make me forget.

But I didn't forget.

I didn't forget the way she made me feel, both loved and suffocated at the same time. I didn't forget the pain of her words, the way she made me question whether this—we—could even work.

I yanked at her hair, forcing her to pull back just enough for our eyes to meet. Her chocolate brown eyes were burning, pupils blown wide, her breath heavy and uneven.

"This isn't how you fix things," I whispered, my voice shaking.

She swallowed hard, her grip on my waist tightening, her forehead resting against mine. "I know," she murmured, her voice raw. "But I don't know any other way."

I closed my eyes, exhaling shakily. "You don't get to hurt me and then kiss me like this."

Lingling's hand moved to my throat, not squeezing, just resting there, as if she needed to feel my pulse, to remind herself I was real, that I was still here. "Then tell me to stop," she challenged, her voice barely above a whisper.

I opened my eyes, meeting hers again. I could feel her heart racing against mine, the warmth of her breath on my lips.

I should have told her to stop. I should have walked away.

But instead, I pulled her back in.

Lingling's grip on me tightened the second I pulled her back in, and whatever restraint she had left snapped. She kissed me like she wanted to consume me, like she needed to remind me who I belonged to. My back hit the wall again as she pressed herself against me, her hands roaming, possessive, burning.

Then, just as suddenly, she grabbed me by the waist and threw me—literally—across the room. I stumbled backward onto the couch, barely catching myself before she was on me again, pinning me down. Her knee pressed between my legs, her breath hot against my lips.

"You think I didn't see you?" she growled, her voice low and full of rage. "Flirting with that man—letting him touch you?"

I barely had a second to respond before she grabbed me again, yanking me up and pushing me toward the dining table. The sharp edge dug into my palms as I gripped it, my breath ragged, my body burning with the mix of anger and desire that only Lingling could ignite in me.

"I wasn't—"

"You were," she cut me off, gripping my chin and forcing me to look at her. Her brown eyes were blazing, dark with something dangerous. "Do you enjoy making me angry, baobei?"

Her lips brushed against my jaw, but there was nothing soft about it. It was a warning.

I swallowed hard, my hands shaking as I clung to the table behind me. "You ignored me for a day. What was I supposed to do?"

Her eyes flickered, but the anger didn't fade. If anything, it burned hotter.

She suddenly grabbed my wrist, yanking me away from the table with a force that sent my pulse skyrocketing. I barely had time to process before she was pulling me through the dimly lit apartment.

But she didn't take me to the bedroom.

She shoved me backward, and I stumbled, my legs hitting the couch before I fell onto the cushions again. Before I could even catch my breath, she was on me, straddling my lap, her knees pressing into the cushions on either side of my thighs, trapping me beneath her.

"No one," she whispered, her voice deadly soft, "no one gets to touch what's mine."

Her lips crashed onto mine, stealing the air from my lungs. Her hands found my wrists, gripping them tightly, pinning them down as if I might disappear. I kissed her back just as fiercely, my nails digging into her arms, my body arching into hers.

This was how we fought.

This was how we loved.

Raw. Violent. Unforgiving.

And I couldn't stop.

I didn't want to stop.

Lingling's fingers curled around my wrists, tightening until the pressure sent a shiver down my spine. She kissed me harder, rough and punishing, like she wanted to mark me from the inside out. My body burned under hers, every inch of me pressed against her, caged by her weight, her fury.

Then, without warning, she pulled away, leaving me gasping, my lips swollen, my heart hammering against my ribs. But before I could move, she grabbed my ankle and yanked me forward. I let out a sharp gasp as she forced my legs apart, stepping between them, her grip firm, unrelenting.

"You think you can punish me by letting another man touch you?" she snarled, tilting my chin up with a bruising grip. "Did you want me to see? Did you want me to lose control?"

I trembled beneath her, heat pooling low in my stomach, my breath unsteady. "I wanted you to look at me," I admitted, voice raw. "I wanted you to feel what I felt."

Her fingers flexed against my skin, her nails digging in just enough to sting. "You're playing a dangerous game, baobei," she whispered, leaning in until her lips ghosted over mine, teasing, taunting. "And you know I never lose."

Before I could respond, she shoved me back against the couch, straddling me, pinning my hands above my head with one strong hand. Her free hand traced down my throat, my collarbone, slow, deliberate—until she wrapped it around my neck, applying just enough pressure to make my breath hitch.

"You belong to me," she murmured, her voice dark, possessive. "Say it."

I stared up at her, defiant, aching, my body betraying me as it arched beneath hers.

"Say it," she commanded, her grip tightening, her brown eyes burning into mine.

My lips parted, a breathless moan escaping before I could stop it. "I belong to you."

Lingling's smirk darkened, and before I could catch my breath, she yanked me up by the front of my dress, dragging me off the couch like I weighed nothing. My heels scraped against the floor as she spun me around and shoved me against the wall, my cheek pressing against the cool surface.

Her hands were rough, impatient, sliding down my arms, gripping my wrists, pinning them high above my head. Her body pressed against mine, her suit-clad form firm, unyielding, caging me in.

"You wanted my attention, didn't you?" she breathed against my ear, her voice dripping with something dangerous. "Well, now you have it."

Her free hand trailed down my spine, slow, deliberate, fingers grazing the exposed skin of my back. Then, without warning, she grabbed the thin fabric of my dress and yanked—hard. The straps slipped from my shoulders, the material pooling at my waist, leaving me half-bare against her.

I gasped, but before I could protest, she grabbed my chin, forcing my head back until her lips brushed against the shell of my ear. "Don't you dare try to run from me."

Then—suddenly—she spun me around, my back hitting the wall as she pressed into me, her body heat suffocating. My pulse stuttered as I met her gaze—dark, intense, consuming.

I shuddered, my breath ragged, my body betraying me as heat coiled low in my stomach.

Her gaze flicked downward. A slow, predatory smile curved her lips as she traced her fingers over my exposed collarbone, down to the swell of my chest. "Mine," she whispered, before lowering her head.

Her lips were hot against my skin, her kisses slow, deliberate. She sucked at the delicate flesh above my heart, her teeth grazing before she bit down—not enough to hurt, but enough to make me moan. My hands clenched into fists above my head as her tongue soothed the sting, only for her to bite again, harder this time.

"Mine," she repeated between kisses, between bruising marks that she left in her wake. "And I'll make sure everyone knows it."

I whimpered as she pressed one last, open-mouthed kiss to the curve of my breast, her tongue flicking over the mark she'd just made. Then she lifted her head, her brown eyes burning into mine.

"Say it," she demanded.

I swallowed hard, my lips trembling. "I'm yours."

Lingling smirked, triumphant. She released my wrists only to let her hands skim down my sides, her touch both possessive and teasing.

"Good girl," she murmured, leaning in until her breath ghosted over my lips. "Now, let me remind you exactly what that means."

Her grip on my wrists tightened before she let go, only to spin me around and shove me onto the dining table. The polished wood was cold against my skin as she loomed over me, her brown eyes dark with rage and something even more consuming.

Lingling tugged at her tie, loosening it, her sharp suit still pristine despite the violence in her movements. She didn't look like a woman who had lost control. No—she was in complete command, and I was the one unraveling beneath her.

"You think I ignored you?" she murmured, unbuttoning her cuffs, rolling them up slowly, deliberately. "Maybe I was giving you a chance to behave."

Her hand shot out, gripping my thigh, yanking me closer until I was flush against her. Her knee pressed between my legs, and I bit back a moan, my fingers digging into the table's surface.

"Lingling—"

She didn't let me finish. Instead, she grabbed the rest of my dress and tore it down the middle, the sound of fabric ripping echoing in the room. I gasped, my eyes widening as I felt the cool air against my bare skin.

Her lips curled into something predatory. "Mine," she whispered, before crashing her mouth onto mine again—hungry, punishing, as if she wanted to devour me whole.

Lingling didn't waste a second. She grabbed my thigh and hoisted me up onto the table, her grip rough, unyielding. The last shreds of my dress slipped off my waist, pooling around my legs, but she didn't even spare it a glance. Her brown eyes were locked onto me, dark, searing, filled with something raw and possessive.

She pressed herself between my legs, the fabric of her suit rough against my bare skin. One hand curled around my throat again, not enough to cut off my air—just enough to remind me who was in control.

"You wanted to be seen?" she growled, her fingers tightening for a brief, dizzying second. "You wanted to make me jealous?"

A breathless, taunting smile curled my lips despite the way my body trembled under her touch. "Did it work?"

Lingling's eyes flashed, and then she grabbed me by the waist and spun me around again, forcing me flat against the table. My cheek pressed against the polished wood, my pulse hammering as she bent over me, her breath hot against my bare shoulder.

She dragged her fingers down my spine—slow, deliberate—before she gripped my hips and yanked me closer. I gasped at the roughness, at the way her strength made me feel small, caged, consumed.

"Do you know what happens to bad girls who try to test me?" she murmured, lips brushing against the nape of my neck.

I swallowed hard, my fingers curling against the table's surface. "Why don't you show me?"

A dark chuckle rumbled from her throat, low and dangerous. Then, without warning, she grabbed my wrists again, pinning them behind my back with one hand. The other trailed down my side, tracing over every exposed inch of skin before she reached the last piece of fabric still clinging to me.

With one sharp tug, it was gone.

Lingling exhaled slowly, her fingers grazing over my bare skin, teasing, possessive—before she suddenly tightened her grip on my hips. I barely had time to register the shift before her palm smacked sharply against the curve of my butt, the sound cutting through the heavy silence.

I gasped, my body jerking forward, heat spreading in the wake of the impact, a mix of pleasure and punishment curling through me.

"That's for making me watch you with him," she said, her voice smooth but laced with something wicked.

Another slap.

Harder this time. My breath hitched, and a low moan escaped my lips, the sound trembling from the force of the sting.

"And that," Lingling continued, dragging her nails down my back, "is for testing me."

I shivered, my body burning, my breath unsteady. But I didn't beg. I didn't plead.

Instead, I pressed my palms against the table and thrust back against her, my hips rolling deliberately, teasingly—offering myself to her.

Lingling sucked in a sharp breath. Her fingers dug into my waist, holding me still before I could do it again. "Oh?" she murmured, amusement curling through her tone. "You think you're in control now?"

I smirked, tilting my head just enough to glance at her over my shoulder. "Make me stop."

That was all the permission she needed.

Lingling's hands were everywhere, roaming with a possessiveness that sent electric jolts through my body. Her fingers, rough with authority, slid across my skin like a brand, marking every inch of me. She cupped the back of my neck with one hand, pressing my face harder into the polished wood, while her other hand trailed down my ribs, sending a wave of heat and goosebumps that pooled in the pit of my stomach.

Her touch was deliberate, calculated. She wasn't rushing, savoring every moment as if my body was a puzzle, each movement a calculated decision to break me down, piece by piece. The tips of her fingers brushed over the soft curve of my waist, teasing just enough before she dug in, her grip tightening with a possessive intensity that made me gasp.

She moved lower, dragging her hands across my hips with a mix of tenderness and demand. Her thumb stroked the inside of my thigh, dangerously close to places that made my breath hitch, before she moved back up to grip my side once more. Each time her hands shifted, it felt like a claim, like she was reminding me that I was hers, that my body was as much a weapon for her as it was for me.

I tried to resist, tried to match her energy, but every time I pushed back against her, she adjusted, her body a perfect, controlled force, forcing me to bend to her will. Her nails grazed the side of my ribs, sharp and relentless, and I couldn't suppress the shudder that ran through me. She didn't let me go, not even for a moment, her hands tracing the curve of my back, digging into the flesh of my hips, drawing me closer to her with every breathless touch.

Lingling's fingers traced lazy, deliberate circles along the inside of my thigh, so close yet refusing to give me what I needed. My breath hitched, my body tense beneath her, pressed against the polished wood. I clenched my jaw, refusing to beg, but my body betrayed me—hips tilting instinctively, a whimper slipping from my lips as she teased the edge of where I wanted her most.

She hummed in satisfaction, her grip on my wrists tightening behind my back. "There it is," she murmured, lips ghosting over my shoulder. "That's what I wanted to hear."

I shivered, heat coiling deep in my stomach as she finally, finally let her fingers slide to where I ached for her. Slow at first—taunting, pressing just enough to make my body arch, to make me push back against her touch.

But Lingling was never one to be rushed. She wanted me desperate. She wanted me undone.

"Tell me, Orm," she whispered against the nape of my neck, her breath sending a tremor down my spine as her fingers moved with devastating precision.

"Was this what you wanted, huh? Bent over your own dinner table, soaking wet, begging for my fingers? Is this why you flirted with that man right in front of me—just to get me pissed enough to fuck the brat out of you?"

I swallowed hard, my nails digging into the table's surface. Pride told me to stay silent, but my body had other ideas—a sharp, breathless moan escaping as she pressed harder, dragging a response from me without mercy.

She chuckled darkly, her free hand smoothing up my back, following the curve of my spine before sliding around my waist. Then lower, until her palm rested against my wrist again—not squeezing, just holding. A quiet reminder that I was completely, utterly at her mercy.

"Look at you," she purred, her voice dripping with satisfaction. "So eager. So reckless."

I bit my lip, refusing to answer. But my body spoke for me—hips rolling into her touch, breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps.

Lingling leaned in, her lips brushing against my ear. "Do you want me to stop?"

It was a taunt. A dare.

I turned my head slightly, just enough to catch the wicked glint in her eyes from the corner of my vision. My own burned with defiance, with need.

"Don't you dare."

Lingling's grip tightened around my wrists, pressing them firmly against the small of my back as her other hand continued its merciless work. My body trembled, my breath breaking into uneven gasps that quickly spiraled into something louder, something shameless.

A satisfied hum rumbled from her chest. "So loud," she mused, lips grazing the back of my neck. "Do you want your neighbors to hear you?"

Heat surged through me at the thought, but I couldn't stop the moans spilling from my lips—soft at first, then desperate, raw, echoing in the space around us. The slick slide of her fingers, the way she controlled every movement, every inch of me, sent me spiraling.

Lingling chuckled, dark and pleased. "Let them."

She didn't slow down, didn't falter. If anything, she doubled down—fingers pressing deeper, movements turning relentless. My body arched, hips bucking against her palm as pleasure ripped through me in waves, helpless and overwhelming.

I gasped, my voice breaking into a cry, my head tilting back—only for Lingling to seize a fistful of my hair and yank my head up, forcing my cheek off the table. The sharp tug sent another jolt of pleasure through me, the mix of pain and control unraveling me further.

"Keep your head up," she ordered, her breath hot against my ear. "I want to hear you clearly."

I barely had the strength to hold myself up, my scalp stinging beneath her grip, but it didn't matter—because in the next breath, she pushed me straight to the edge.

"That's it," she murmured, drinking in every sound, every shudder. "That's my girl."

The words shattered me. My fingers curled into the wood, my body shaking, burning, consumed by her.

The moment it hit, it was nothing short of devastating. My body arched, a sharp, helpless cry spilling from my lips as pleasure crashed over me, raw and consuming. My fingers curled into the polished wood of the table, struggling to hold on as Lingling pushed me through it, relentless, merciless, dragging every last bit from me until I had nothing left to give.

My thighs trembled, my breath shattered into uneven gasps. My body was boneless beneath her, every muscle weak, every nerve alight. But she wasn't finished. Not yet.

She held me there, pinned and shaking, her fingers still slow, still teasing, as if coaxing every last aftershock from my spent body. I whimpered, my legs threatening to give out, but her grip on me remained firm.

"Look at you," she murmured, pressing a kiss to the damp skin of my shoulder. "So beautiful like this. So perfect."

I shuddered, barely able to keep myself upright as she finally, finally released my hair. My head fell forward, my cheek pressing against the cool wood, my arms weak and useless at my sides. My body still trembled, every nerve alight, utterly spent from everything she had wrung from me.

Lingling smoothed a hand down my spine, warm and possessive, grounding me even as I struggled to catch my breath. "Was that enough for you, baobei?" she teased, her voice dripping with satisfaction.

I swallowed, my lips parted, my mind still foggy, but I managed to turn my head slightly, just enough to catch her gaze from the corner of my vision.

Then, just when I thought she was done, just when my body was slack against the table, she grabbed me again—this time, hauling me up into her arms.

I barely had time to catch my breath before she carried me, effortlessly, out of the dining room and toward the bedroom. Her suit was still mostly intact, save for the loosened tie and rolled-up sleeves, but I was completely bare in her arms, my head resting against her shoulder, my breath still uneven.

"Lingling—"

She cut me off with a sharp look, her arms tightening around me as she kicked the door open. The bedroom was dark, save for the dim city lights filtering through the curtains, casting shadows across the walls. She strode inside without hesitation, carrying me like I weighed nothing, before dropping me onto the bed.

I let out a breathless gasp as my back hit the mattress, but she was already on top of me before I could move. Her suit jacket came off first, tossed carelessly to the floor. Then she pulled her tie free, the silk slipping through her fingers like a weapon she knew exactly how to use.

I barely had time to react before she grabbed my wrists and pinned them above my head, binding them together with the tie, securing me beneath her.

"You don't learn, do you?" she murmured, her voice like silk over steel.

I tugged at the restraints, testing them, my heart hammering. "Maybe I don't want to."

Lingling's smirk was sharp, predatory. "Good."

She leaned down, her lips grazing my throat, teeth teasing the sensitive skin, dragging lower, lower—

I gasped, my body arching, fire licking through my veins as she pressed me deeper into the bed, stealing every last breath, every last thought.

Then—her mouth closed around me, hot, wet, claiming.

A ragged moan tore from my lips as she sucked, her tongue flicking over my sensitive nipple before biting down just enough to make me gasp again. My back arched off the bed, my wrists twisting in their restraints.

She hummed against me, pleased, before moving to the other side, her fingers teasing, pinching, rolling, drawing another helpless sound from my throat.

I bit my lip, trying to hold back another moan, but she flicked her tongue again, slow and deliberate, and I whimpered, my legs tightening around her waist.

She wasn't done.

Not even close.

The first drag of her tongue against my still-sensitive clit made me jolt, a broken whimper escaping before I could stop it. My body was already wrecked, already trembling, but Lingling didn't care—if anything, my sensitivity only spurred her on.

"Still so reactive," she mused, her voice thick with satisfaction. She flattened her tongue and licked again, slow and deliberate, savoring every shiver, every gasp.

I squirmed, my wrists tugging against the tie, but she pressed me down harder, her grip firm, unyielding. "No running, baobei," she murmured, her breath hot against my flushed skin. "You can take it."

I wasn't sure if I could—but that wasn't my decision to make.

Her tongue dipped lower, teasing, tasting, before slipping inside—hot, wet, demanding. A strangled moan tore from my throat as she pushed deeper, slow at first, then faster, setting a devastating rhythm that left me gasping.

I twisted beneath her, my body arching, every muscle coiling tight. The sensation was overwhelming—her mouth, her tongue, the way she never gave me a moment to breathe.

"Lingling—" I choked out, my voice barely a whisper.

She hummed against me, the vibration sending another sharp jolt through my core, and then she pulled back—only to thrust her tongue in again, deeper this time, relentless, merciless.

I shattered.

My legs trembled, my thighs instinctively trying to snap shut, but she caught them effortlessly, her fingers digging into my skin as she spread me open again.

Then, without warning, her palm cracked against the inside of my thigh.

I cried out, the sting sharp and electric, a fresh jolt of heat pooling in my core. My thighs tensed, instinctively trying to snap shut, but she caught them effortlessly, spreading me open again with a quiet, dangerous chuckle.

"I didn't say you could close them." Another slap, this time to the other thigh, her fingers lingering over the heated skin. "Behave, Orm."

I gasped, my wrists straining against the silk tie. "Please—"

She stilled, her tongue flicking against me in the lightest, most taunting stroke.

"Please, what?" she taunted, her fingers digging into my thighs, holding me open, keeping me exactly where she wanted me.

"Say it properly."

I clenched my jaw, refusing, but then she flicked her tongue just right, and I cried out, my head tilting back against the pillows.

She pulled away just enough to watch me, her lips glistening, her dark eyes gleaming with triumph. "You're already falling apart."

I shuddered, my body arching into her. "Lingling—"

She smirked. "Try again."

I swallowed hard, my pride crumbling under the weight of her touch, her voice, the way she looked at me—like she owned me.

Oh god, she absolutely did.

"Please," I whispered, barely recognizing my own voice. "Please, don't stop."

Lingling chuckled, low and dark, before pressing a kiss to my inner thigh—soft, teasing. "Good girl."

Lingling didn't rush. She didn't need to. Every touch, every movement was deliberate, calculated—a silent promise that she wouldn't stop until she had me exactly where she wanted.

My thighs still burned from where she had struck me, but she was already soothing the sting with her lips, her tongue tracing over the heated skin with maddening slowness. My breath hitched, my body trembling beneath her, every nerve set alight by the contrast of pain and pleasure. 

She looked up at me, her brown eyes gleaming in the dim light, sharp and possessive. "Look at you," she murmured, dragging her fingers up my inner thigh, spreading me wider beneath her. "So eager, so loud—just for me."

I shuddered, my fingers clenching into fists above my head, still bound by her tie.

"Lingling—"

She silenced me with another sharp slap to my thigh, her smirk deepening when I cried out, my body arching off the bed.

"Patience," she warned, her voice low, dangerous. "I'm going to take my time with you."

And she did. 

Lingling dipped her head again, her breath hot against my soaked skin, but her tongue stopped just shy of where I needed her most. Instead, she kissed the inside of my thigh, slow and deliberate, her lips leaving a burning trail as she moved closer—then away.

I whimpered, hips bucking instinctively, but her hands pinned me down with infuriating ease.

"So desperate," she murmured, her lips brushing so close I could feel the heat of her mouth. "But I'm not done playing with you yet."

Her tongue flicked over me—once, light as a whisper—then disappeared.

I gasped, trembling. "Lingling, please—"

She clicked her tongue. "You don't get to come yet." One finger slipped inside me, slow, teasing, curling just enough to make my thighs tremble, but not enough to give me what I craved. "Not until I say you can."

She moved with devastating rhythm, just enough pressure to send waves of heat building under my skin, only to pull back whenever I got too close. Again and again.

My breaths came in gasps, body slick with sweat, frustration mounting until I was nearly sobbing. Every time I reached the edge, Lingling stopped—fingers slowing, mouth retreating, her gaze never leaving mine.

"You wanted to tease me, didn't you?" she purred, her voice velvet and steel. "This is what it costs."

She held me open, her grip strong, unyielding, as she pushed me past the edge again—relentless, merciless, dragging me through it over and over until I had nothing left to give. My body trembled, wrung out, shattered beneath her.

I had barely come down when she dove back in, her tongue working me over again, as if she wanted to taste every last drop.

"L-Lingling—" I gasped, my body twisting, trying to escape, but she just laughed softly against me, her breath hot, teasing.

She didn't stop. 

Wouldn't stop.

"You can take more, baobei." 

I whimpered, my fingers curling into the silk tie, my body oversensitive, burning, completely at her mercy. "I—I can't—"

Lingling finally pulled back, and when she lifted her head, her face was slick with me, her lips glistening, her chin wet.

She licked her lips slowly, her smirk dark, pleased, utterly in control.

"You can," she said smoothly, her voice thick with satisfaction. "And you will."

She didn't let up. Didn't let me breathe. Every stroke, every flick, every teasing press sent me spiraling again, and again, until I was sobbing, shaking—until I couldn't think, couldn't fight, couldn't do anything but take what she gave me.

Lingling finally slowed, her hands gliding over my trembling body, soothing, claiming. She kissed my thigh again, soft this time, but there was nothing gentle in her voice when she whispered—

"Next time, don't test me."

I shuddered, too wrecked to respond. But Lingling just smirked against my skin, satisfied, before finally letting me collapse completely into the sheets.

She finally untied my wrists, rubbing at the tender skin before pulling me against her, cradling me in her arms. She was still in her half-unbuttoned suit, her tie now abandoned somewhere on the bed, her breath steady as she held me close.

I pressed my forehead to her shoulder, my body still buzzing, my pulse still uneven. "You really don't like sharing, do you?"

Her grip on me tightened. "Not when it comes to you."

I let out a breathless laugh and tilted my face up to hers. The evidence of everything we'd done was still there—shining on her lips, her chin, the flushed skin of her throat. I leaned in, mouth brushing against hers in a slow, lingering kiss, tasting myself on her tongue.

A quiet moan escaped me, soft and involuntary. She deepened the kiss for a moment, possessive and slow, before letting me pull back.

My hand trembled as I brought it to her face, fingers gently tracing her jaw before wiping the wetness from her skin. The intimacy of it made my breath hitch.

Lingling didn't stop me. She just watched, her brown eyes dark, unreadable.

"So pretty," I murmured, smoothing my thumb over her lips, watching as she kissed the pad of it without breaking eye contact.

The room was quiet now, except for our breathing—hers steady, mine still uneven. The air smelled like sweat, like the aftermath of something destructive yet intoxicating. My body still tingled, still burned from where she had touched me, from where she had claimed me.

Lingling pulled me into her arms, her grip firm, unrelenting, like she was scared I'd slip away. My bare skin pressed against her suit pants, the fabric cool against my still overheated body. I let myself sink into her, my head resting against her chest, feeling the steady rhythm of her heart beneath my cheek.

For a while, neither of us spoke. Her fingers traced slow, absentminded patterns against my spine, and I closed my eyes, letting the sensation calm me. I didn't need words. Not yet.

She exhaled deeply, her lips pressing against my hair, lingering there. "You make me insane, Orm," she murmured, her voice quieter now, less sharp, less angry.

I smirked, even though my body felt like it had melted into hers. "That's good."

Lingling let out a soft chuckle, her arms tightening around me. "You'll really be the death of me."

I tilted my head up to meet her gaze. Her brown eyes had softened, no longer filled with the fire of jealousy and rage. Just warmth.

Just her.

"Then I'll make sure you die in my arms," I whispered, my fingers reaching up to trace the mole on her cheek.

She closed her eyes for a brief moment, inhaling like she was breathing me in, like I was something she needed. Then she kissed my forehead, slow and deliberate, as if sealing a promise neither of us had spoken yet.

"Sleep, baobei," she murmured, pulling me impossibly closer.

And for the first time that night, I surrendered—to the arms of the most dangerous woman in the country, yet the only embrace I call home.