Chapter 45 (M)

By the time dinner was over — a quiet spread of grilled seafood and caprese salad made by the villa chef — the sun had dipped below the edge of the sea, leaving a pink blush on the water and turning the sky lavender. The lights outside the villa shimmered along the flagstone pathway leading to the private pool, which glowed a soft blue under the moonlight.

"I'll meet you out there," Lingling said as she disappeared into the bedroom. I changed quickly — a revealing black bikini and a thin silk robe — and stepped barefoot out to the terrace. The Amalfi air was warm, just breezy enough to lift the hem of my robe.

I dipped a toe into the water — perfect temperature.

The sliding glass door opened behind me.

And there she was.

Lingling.

Her white shirt unbuttoned halfway, black shorts hanging low on her hips, her toned arms and marked skin catching the light. Her hair was slightly messy, and her cap — that signature one she always wore when she wanted to feel like herself — was perched loosely on her head.

She looked like a villain from a movie. A devastatingly hot one.

"You're already in?" she said, walking toward the edge of the pool.

"I was waiting for my bodyguard," I teased.

The moonlight hit the water just right, and when Lingling stepped down into the pool, I nearly forgot how to breathe.

Gone was the shirt and cap. Gone were the shorts.

She was in a dark red bikini now — simple, minimal, tailored to her body like it had been designed just for her. The top hugged her just enough, showing off the taut curve of her waist, the strength in her shoulders. The bottom sat low on her hips, her scars half-submerged in water.

I stared.

She saw me.

Lingling tilted her head, amused, that smug little grin tugging at her lips. "You're staring, baobei."

"I'm allowed," I said quietly, running my fingers through the water. "I'm marrying you."

She walked toward me through the shallow end — slow, languid — the kind of walk that made you feel like time was slowing with each step. Her eyes never left mine.

"You like what you see?"

I nodded, utterly entranced. "I always do."

She slipped behind me and wrapped her arms around my waist, her lips brushing the shell of my ear. "It's yours. Every inch."

I turned in her arms, letting my hands glide over her wet skin, her back, her hips. My heart beat so loud in my chest I was sure she could feel it against hers.

"You look like a goddess," I murmured.

She laughed softly, brushing her nose against mine. "And you? You look like heaven sent someone too good for this world... straight into mine."

I kissed her then. Deep. Slow. Our bodies half-floating in the warm water, wrapped around each other as the stars burned silently above us.

Lingling's lips trailed down my jaw, lingering like she was tasting the water clinging to my skin — slow, deliberate, insatiable.

"You feel that?" she murmured, her voice a low, sultry rasp against my throat. "The heat. The way the water holds us. Heavy. Hot. Like it wants to watch."

A breath slipped from me, half a moan. One hand gripped her shoulder, the other tangled in her hair, pulling her closer. "I feel it," I breathed.

She dipped her head lower, brushing her mouth just beneath my collarbone — a kiss that sent sparks up my spine. "View's even better from down here," she whispered, glancing toward the edge of the villa — a sheer drop into nothing but sky and ocean, moonlight fractured across the waves like broken glass.

"But honestly..." Her fingers slid beneath the water, brushing the hem of my bikini bottoms. "This is the view I came for."

"Ling..." Her name was a broken sigh on my lips.

She smiled — slow, wicked. "You know what drives me insane about this place?" she murmured, hands ghosting up my sides, slipping under my top. "No sirens. No deals. Just you. Me. And this fucking tiny swimsuit that's barely hiding how wet you are for me."

I gasped — but not from shock.

She pressed into me under the surface, her hips pinning mine, her breath molten against my cheek. "I could take you right here," she whispered. "Push you against the edge. Make you scream into the sea. No one would hear a damn thing but the waves."

I clung to her — floating, drowning, already unraveling.

"I want you to," I whispered.

She let out a soft, dangerous laugh — a growl laced with hunger. "Careful, doctor," she said against my lips, "you know what happens when you say that to someone like me."

Her mouth crashed into mine — wet heat and teeth and need. Her hands roamed freely now — claiming, teasing, setting fire to every inch of me. When she pulled back, her voice was a rasp against my throat.

"Tomorrow, I'll say 'I do.' But tonight?" Her teeth grazed my shoulder. "I'm going to make you beg."

I pressed my forehead to hers, breath tangled and thick with lust. "You talk a big game," I whispered, tracing my fingers slowly down her chest, dragging a fingernail over the swell of her breast. "But I haven't seen you make me beg yet."

Her pupils blew wide, that dark smirk twitching at the corner of her lips — but I didn't stop.

"You like being the villain, don't you?" I purred, my hands skimming over her ribs, down her waist, tugging her closer. "All danger and dominance. But here's the secret..."

I brushed my mouth against hers, barely a kiss.

"I know how to pull you apart."

Her breath hitched — slight, but there. I felt the shift. The crack.

I smiled, sharp and wicked.

"That's right," I whispered, dragging my nails lightly down her back, watching her shiver. "You want me begging, baby? Then make me."

Lingling's hand gripped the back of my thigh under the water, hard enough to make me gasp. Her voice dropped to a low, dangerous growl.

"Orm..."

"Mmh?" I tilted my head, the picture of sweet innocence — a perfect lie.

"You're playing a dangerous game."

"And you love it," I whispered, curling my fingers into her hair. "Come on, my little mafia queen... show me what happens when I talk back."

Her mouth crashed into mine again — this time harder, all fire and frustration and filthy devotion. I kissed her back with everything I had, arms wrapped around her neck, legs locked tight around her waist beneath the surface.

When we broke for air, I let my lips barely graze hers, teasing.

"You said every inch was mine. Remember?"

She groaned, head tipped back, breath ragged. "God, you're fucking trouble."

I ran my tongue along her throat, felt her pulse hammer beneath my lips. "And you're obsessed with it."

She backed me into the wall of the pool, caging me in, water sloshing around us as her body pressed flush against mine. Dominant. Desperate.

I dragged my teeth over her earlobe, whispered against her skin. "You gonna ruin me, baby?" My voice dripped like honey. "Or are you just gonna stand there looking like sin in a bikini?"

Her fingers curled around my wrists, pinning them to the pool's edge. Her mouth hovered just above mine, breath hot, eyes wild.

"Careful," she warned, voice dark and trembling with need. "You're one breath away from getting exactly what you asked for."

I met her gaze, daring and desperate, heart hammering like thunder. "Then what the hell are you waiting for?"

Lingling's grip on my wrists loosened — barely — but she didn't pull away. Her gaze dragged over me, slow and shameless, like she was memorizing every inch. Then, without a word, she bent slightly and swept me up into her arms — effortless, possessive, commanding.

I gasped, arms flying around her shoulders, heart hammering. "Ling—!"

Her smirk was pure sin, her biceps flexing as she turned in the water with me cradled against her chest. "What?" she murmured. "You didn't think I'd carry my bride-to-be?"

"I thought maybe you'd wait until we were out of the pool," I managed, my voice barely steady.

She leaned in, her mouth brushing my ear. "I've never been patient with you, Orm. Especially when you're soaked, half-naked, and whispering things that make me want to tear the rest off with my teeth."

A thrill rushed through me, hot and sharp. I glanced up toward the villa — the lights still glowing softly, curtains dancing in the night breeze. The shadows stretched long across the terrace, but still I whispered, "Are your men—?"

"Gone," she said flatly, eyes locked on mine. "Told Jiang to clear the perimeter. No eyes. No ears. No interruptions."

She smirked again, pulling me closer, her lips barely a breath from mine. "It's just us now, doctor."

The air thickened — humid, electric.

"Good," I whispered, tightening my arms around her neck. "Because I have no intention of staying quiet."

A groan rumbled from deep in her throat — raw, desperate. She buried her face against my jaw, kissing, nipping, panting against my skin. "You're going to fucking kill me."

"No," I whispered, dragging my lips across her ear, "I'm going to break you. Slow. Until you forget how to be careful."

Her grip shifted — strong, unrelenting hands sliding down to my thighs — and with one smooth motion, she lifted me higher against her body. I gasped as my legs wrapped around her waist, the warm water rippling around us.

She bent slightly, face level with my navel, her breath hot and heavy. Her lips parted — not for words, but for worship.

"You think you're in control, Orm?" she murmured against my skin, before dragging her tongue slowly across the dip of my belly. "You wore this fucking bikini knowing I'd lose my mind the second I saw it."

I whimpered, fingers threading through her wet hair as her lips trailed down again — softer this time, slower. Then she kissed just below my navel — open-mouthed, hungry — and bit, hard enough to make me moan.

"That's mine," she growled, sucking until the skin flushed deep and red, marking me with brutal tenderness. "Every inch of you — mine."

"Fuck, Ling..." My voice cracked, heat rolling through me like a wave. She kissed over the mark she'd just made, her tongue soothing, lips dragging slow circles that made my thighs tremble against her sides.

She pulled back just enough to look up at me — brown eyes blown wide, pupils devouring the gold in her irises. "You're shaking already, doctor. I haven't even started."

I tried to smirk, but it melted into a moan as her mouth brushed the edge of my bikini bottoms. "No, baby," I managed breathlessly. "I think you're about five seconds from bending me over the edge of this pool and fucking me like you've wanted to since we got here."

She cursed under her breath — a filthy string of Mandarin against my belly — then surged up and kissed me, hard, deep, tongue claiming me like she owned me. Her hands roamed my body with wild purpose, water sliding between us as if it couldn't keep up.

"You don't know what you do to me," she growled into my neck, licking a wet line up to my ear. "That fucking body? That bikini? You were teasing me. Tempting me. Daring me to lose control."

"Maybe I was," I whispered, sighing into the sharp line of her jaw. "And maybe you're all talk, mafia queen. Because I'm still waiting."

The water surged around us, warm and wild, licking up our bodies as she moved against me — dominant, relentless. Her mouth crashed into mine, and everything else disappeared. The kiss was filthy and deep, her tongue sliding over mine like she already knew every secret I hadn't dared to speak aloud.

She kissed like it was a promise and a threat. Like she could fuck me senseless without even taking my clothes off.

"God, Ling..." I moaned into her mouth, clinging to her shoulders as she pinned me tighter to her chest. Her hand gripped the back of my thigh, pulling me flush against her hips until I could feel how warm she was under the water. "You kiss like you're trying to break me."

She laughed — low and dangerous, lips trailing to the corner of my mouth. "That's because I am."

Her mouth found mine again, hungrier this time, her hand sliding up my back, fingers tracing the thin strap of my bikini top. She didn't undo it — not yet. Just tugged it enough to make me gasp, enough to remind me how little separated us.

"You feel that?" she murmured against my lips. "Your thighs wrapped around me, your pussy soaked through that tiny scrap of fabric. And don't you dare tell me it's the pool, baobei."

"Ling—fuck—" I gasped, nails digging into her back, legs tightening around her waist as she rolled her hips into me, slow and deliberate.

She kissed me again, deeper — dragging my bottom lip between her teeth, biting just hard enough to make me whimper.

"You begged for this," she growled, her voice thick with heat, with need. "Now you're gonna take it. All of it. Everything I've been holding back."

"I can take it," I whispered, lips slick, heart pounding. "Give it to me."

She pulled back just enough to stare at me, eyes burning like fire through the shadows. "You're going to beg me not to stop."

Her hand slid beneath the water, gripping my ass as she ground me against her, and I gasped — loud, desperate.

"That's it," she rasped. "Make those pretty sounds for me. Let the ocean hear what I do to you."

"You haven't even touched me yet," I managed, but my voice was shaking. My whole body was trembling.

She grinned, wild and wicked. "That's the problem with you, Orm. You think I need to fuck you to own you."

She kissed me again — deep, claiming, her tongue rolling over mine with a control that made me dizzy.

Her mouth was a drug. Her body, a cage.

And I never wanted to be free.

She moved through the water like a predator, carrying me as if I weighed nothing, until my back hit the smooth edge of the pool. Her hips pressed into mine, slow and filthy, grinding just enough to make my breath catch.

"I want to hear you," she whispered, mouth brushing my jaw. "I want you moaning my name so loud the cliffs remember it."

"Then stop teasing," I growled, dragging my teeth along her throat. "Take me. Right fucking here."

The water clung to her like a second skin, her dark red bikini catching the moonlight like blood on silk. It was simple — elegant, barely there — but on her, it looked obscene. Like sin sculpted into fabric. Every curve glowing.

I couldn't stop staring.

"You're doing it again," she murmured, amusement laced with heat. "You gonna keep eye-fucking me, or do something about it?"

I ran my hands down her sides, slow and reverent. "Jesus, Lingling, do you even know what you look like right now?"

She raised an eyebrow, predatory. "Enlighten me."

I leaned in, kissed the salt from her collarbone, let my lips drag over her pulse. "Like a goddamn sin. One I want to break every rule for."

She let out a low, throaty chuckle, her breath stuttering as my hands slid lower, gripping her hips beneath the water. "And you," she said, her voice turning into a purr, her fingers tracing up the inside of my thigh, "look like heaven dressed up as a trap. All soft and sweet on the outside, and deadly as fuck where it counts."

I moaned, her touch lighting me up like fire through wire. "I'm only dangerous to you."

Her eyes flashed, pupils blown wide. "Then ruin me, Orm. Leave marks. Leave bruises. Let me remember who owns me when you're not around."

My breath hitched. My whole body buzzed. "You keep talking like that," I whispered, voice shaking, "and I'll pull you under and fuck you until you forget your own name."

"Oh, baobei," she whispered, lips brushing mine, "I want to forget everything but you."

She pinned me to the wall of the pool again, the stone cool against my back, her body searing against the front of mine. "This bikini," she growled, her mouth tracing my jaw, "is a fucking curse. I'm going to be haunted by this image for the rest of my life."

I smiled against her lips. "You think this is torture now? Wait 'til I wear it under your suit jacket on our honeymoon."

She groaned — raw, wrecked. Her hand slipped beneath my bottoms, fingers sliding over me with maddening ease. "Holy fuck, Orm... this isn't the pool. You're dripping for me."

"You know what you do to me," I gasped, hips rocking into her palm. "You've known since the first time you looked at me like I was a target."

Her lips hovered a breath above mine. "Say it. I want to hear it."

I met her gaze, unflinching. "You. Only you make me this wet."

She snarled — low and hungry — and kissed me like she wanted to own every breath I had left. Her mouth was fire, her tongue wicked and wild, claiming mine over and over until I was dizzy with want. Her hands roamed my body like she needed to memorize it with her skin, every squeeze, every stroke, laced with reverence and desperation.

"Tomorrow," she whispered against my lips, breath ragged, "I'll wear a ring for you. Smile for you. Swear myself to you in front of everyone."

Her mouth moved to my neck, kissing, sucking, grazing her teeth just above the swell of my breast — stopping only when I gasped, grinding into her without meaning to.

"But tonight?" she breathed, voice dropping into something dark and possessive. "Tonight I make you mine in every way they'll never fucking see."

She pressed forward, chest to chest, thigh slipping between my legs. And then — slowly, deliberately — she started to grind against me.

I choked on a moan as I felt it: the slick heat of her pressed to my thigh, rolling her hips like she needed to come from nothing but the friction and the sound of my voice.

"Feel that?" she growled, voice wrecked. "That's how much I want you. I'm soaked for you, Orm. Dripping. Grinding on you like I've never needed anything so fucking bad."

I looked down, and the view nearly ended me — her wet skin gleaming under the moonlight, bikini bottoms clinging to every curve, her abs flexing with every movement as she rode my thigh. Her head tipped back slightly, mouth parted, lashes fluttering — so gorgeous it hurt.

"God, you're so hot," I breathed, trembling beneath her. "Watching you like this... I could come just from seeing your face."

"Yeah?" she panted, grinding harder now, water sloshing between us as she moved faster. "Then open your eyes, baobei. Watch me fuck myself on you. Watch what you do to me."

I did. And it was obscene. Perfect. Her body rocking with abandon, hands gripping my shoulders, breath hot against my mouth as her moans spilled out between kisses.

"Talk to me," she whispered, almost a command, even now. Her voice broke. "Tell me what I look like. What I'm doing to you. Make me feel it."

"You look like sin," I breathed. "Desperate. Out of control. Like you need to come on me more than you need to breathe."

A broken sound ripped from her throat — a mix of laughter and hunger. "Keep going," she said. "Don't stop talking."

"You want to lose it, don't you?" I whispered, pressing my mouth to her ear. "You want to break on me. Shake for me. Be mine like this."

"Fuck—Orm—"

"I want to feel you, Lingling," I growled in her ear. "I want you so deep I taste you when I moan."

Her whole body jolted. A wild sound tore from her throat—half sob, half snarl.

"Let go, Lingling," I whispered. "Let me see you wild. Let me have you like this."

Her hips stuttered, rhythm breaking, mouth falling open. "I'm—close," she gasped. "Say something. Say anything. Kiss me."

I crushed my mouth to hers, deep and hot and filthy, licking into her while she writhed in my arms. "Come for me," I whispered against her lips. "Make a mess. Show me everything you never show anyone else."

She broke. Loud and trembling, her body convulsing as her orgasm hit, her mouth open against mine as she moaned through it. One hand flew to my shoulder, her nails digging in, and she bit down — hard — to muffle the scream.

Her whole body shook, soaking me, grinding through the last waves as she collapsed against me, breath ragged.

"You are mine," she gasped into my skin. "Every inch. Every moan. Every fucking heartbeat."

"Yours," I breathed, trembling. "Yours, baby. All of me."

She pressed her forehead to mine, panting, eyes blazing with heat, pride ,and hunger that hadn't gone anywhere.

"Say it again," she whispered, panting.

"Yours," I said, raw and wrecked. "Always. Fucking. Yours."

Lingling's mouth found my neck like she'd been starving — not for hours, not for days, but for lifetimes.

It started slow. A soft, open-mouthed kiss just below my ear, her lips hot and trembling against my pulse. Her breath hitched — still catching from the high I'd just watched take her apart. That made it worse. Or better. I couldn't tell.

"You smell like salt, sweat," she murmured, voice wrecked, velvet-dark. "And something that only I get to ruin."

Her mouth stayed there for a beat, just breathing me in like I was the last thing tethering her to this world. Then, with no warning — she bit.

Not gentle. Not cruel. Just right. Just hers.

I gasped, my whole body tightening around her. "God, Ling..."

She groaned, low and wrecked, pressing her mouth to the mark she'd made. "Say my name like that again," she rasped, tongue teasing the sting. "I'll have you sobbing on my mouth before I'm even inside you."

Her kisses trailed down my throat — slow, reverent, searing. Every press of her lips dragged a moan from my chest, every exhale a prayer she was determined to answer. She moved like a woman half-broken by her own want, half-fueled by mine.

By the time she reached my collarbone, my nails were buried in her back, desperate for anything to hold on to. She was slick from the water and her own high, and every shift of her hips sent aftershocks through both of us.

She paused at the edge of my bikini top. Her breath ghosted over the fabric, a whisper of heat. Her fingers traced under the straps, slow, teasing.

She didn't pull it off.

Instead, she looked up — eyes dark and wrecked, smile dangerous.

"This little thing's in my way," she said, voice full of venomous affection.

My chest heaved against her mouth. "Then take it off."

Her smirk curled slow. "Mmm... Not yet, baobei. I want to feel you beg first."

She kissed the underside of the fabric. Barely there. Just a press of lips that made my nipples harden beneath the soaked material.

I arched into her, breathless. "Ling, please—"

Her hand slid low and gripped my ass, pulling me tighter against the length of her. Her other palm spread over my back like a brand. "You don't beg until I say you beg," she growled against my skin. "Not until you tell me exactly how bad you need me."

"You're evil."

Her teeth dragged slowly across my chest. "And you're dripping for me."

Her fingers dipped under the waistband of my bikini bottoms again — and this time she stayed. Just hovering. Right where I was aching. Her touch was maddening. Barely there, like she was holding back only to make me lose my mind.

"Fuck," I gasped, trying to grind into her hand.

She chuckled against my sternum, breath still ragged. "Don't think I forgot what you said earlier... about wanting to feel me deep enough you can taste it when you moan." Her lips curved wicked against my heart. "Doctor, you say things like that, I'll keep you here all night — legs shaking, voice gone, begging for mercy I don't have."

My breath hitched as she traced one finger lower, parting me, slow and intentional. Her control was frayed — I could feel it in every tremble, see it in the way her pupils swallowed her eyes whole.

"How bad do you want me?" she whispered. "Be honest, Orm. You want my mouth? My fingers? You want me to fuck you against the edge of this pool until the tide comes in and carries what's left of you away?"

I looked down at her — jaw sharp, lips swollen, bikini clinging to her like war paint. Her skin shimmered, slick with sweat, salt, and something darker. She was half-wild, completely undone, and still the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.

"I want to come with your name bruised into my throat," I whispered. "I want your fingers inside me. Deep. Filthy. Until I scream."

Lingling's head dropped against my chest with a breathless laugh, almost pained.

"Fuck, Orm. You're gonna be the death of me."

She kissed her way back to my neck — open, wet, and full of hunger. Then she slid her fingers deeper.

"Let's see how many times I can kill you first."

Her fingers found the knot behind my neck.

She didn't say a word. Didn't have to. The look in her eyes said everything — heat, hunger, the kind of want that bordered on worship and ruin. She tugged once.

The tie slipped loose, and the black bikini top floated away — weightless, meaningless.

The air kissed my bare chest, nipples tight from the mix of breeze, heat, and anticipation. Lingling didn't touch me.

She looked.

Long. Slow. Devouring.

Her gaze dragged over me like silk dipped in fire — like she was memorizing the shape of me before she did unspeakable things to it.

And God, I wanted her to.

"Lean back," she ordered, voice dark and coaxing, like sin dressed in velvet.

I obeyed instantly, spine pressing to the warm stone behind me, arms limp at my sides, heart a riot in my chest. Lingling moved closer through the water — a predator in red silk, golden skin slick with moonlight. Her soaked bikini clung to her curves like worship, not fabric, and when her chest broke the surface — I stopped breathing.

Her breasts were perfect. Full. Round. Kissed by moonlight and glistening water. Drops slid down her collarbone, down the swell of her chest, trailing between them like they knew they were blessed to touch her.

My mouth went dry.

She noticed.

"Oh, you're staring now," she teased, voice silk and smoke. "Doctor Kornnaphat, undone by a pair of tits. What would your patients think?"

My lips parted, but no sound came out. Just a breath. Just need.

She smiled like she already owned my soul. "Put your hands up," she said, dragging her body close, every inch of her heat grazing mine. "Right here."

She guided my wrists up, pinning them against the stone ledge above me. Her grip was firm — not hurting, just final. My breasts rose with each breath, bare and waiting, and she didn't touch them. She hovered.

"You're shaking," she whispered, brushing her lips over my jaw. "And I haven't even touched you yet."

"Because I want you to," I breathed. "So bad it burns."

She pressed her body tighter to mine, breasts brushing mine — slick heat to hard skin — and the friction made me whimper. "You like them?" she asked, voice smug and dark, as if she didn't already know. "Been staring like they're dessert and you've been starving."

I moaned softly, helpless. "They're perfect, Ling."

Her laugh was low and sinful. "Damn right they are. And now they're the last thing you're gonna see before I fuck that whimper right out of you."

She leaned back just enough to let me look — her chest framed in moonlight, nipples taut under the wet red fabric, her skin gleaming with the kind of glow you only get after an orgasm. And fuck, she was glowing. Alive. Ravishing.

A goddess soaked in sin.

"I could ride your thigh until I come again, just watching you fall apart," she said, voice frayed. "But I want you wrecked first."

Her hands slid underwater, slow and demanding, finding my hips and yanking me flush against her. Her thigh slid between mine — firm and deliberate — and then she ground into me.

My head snapped back with a cry.

"There it is," she growled, lips ghosting over my throat. "You feel that? My thigh soaked from your pussy. Say it."

"I'm dripping," I gasped. "Fuck, you make me so wet, I can't even think—"

She cut me off with a kiss — rough, deep, filthy. Her tongue slid against mine with the kind of claim that didn't ask, just took.

When she pulled back, her mouth was swollen and wicked. "I haven't even gotten inside you yet. You're this needy just from my mouth and a little grind?"

Her thigh flexed, rubbing right where I ached, and I cried out — legs trembling, back arching.

"That's it," she whispered. "You're gonna come just from this, aren't you? From my body pressed to yours. From my tits, from my voice, from the way I own you right now."

"Please," I gasped. "Ling—"

Lingling's lips trailed lower, past the curve of my collarbone, down the center of my chest — not gentle.

Rough. Possessive. Starving.

She kissed like she owned me. Like every inch of my skin was a territory she had claimed long ago and was now coming back to conquer.

Her mouth landed hard between my breasts, biting softly, then soothing the sting with her tongue. The contrast made me cry out — loud, unfiltered.

It echoed over the cliffs, into the sea. And I didn't care who heard.

"God—Lingling..." My breath hitched, wrists still pinned to the edge of the pool. "Please—"

She didn't stop. She just smiled against my skin — slow, wicked — and then devoured me.

Her mouth closed around one nipple, lips hot, tongue relentless, and I arched like she'd lit a fuse beneath my spine. I felt her moan vibrate through me — low, dark, sinful.

"You hear yourself?" she murmured between kisses, dragging her tongue across my breast, then sucking deep at the soft underside. "You're already so fucking gone, and I haven't even had my fingers in you yet."

"Touch me," I breathed, dizzy. "Don't tease."

She let out a rough, helpless sound — like she was seconds from losing the last thread of her restraint. Her hands slid down, underwater now, one gripping my thigh, the other finding the edge of my bikini bottom.

She didn't pull it off. She just held me there — hovered — as her mouth returned to my chest, more intense now. She licked and kissed and bit until my body was trembling under hers, hips twitching toward her hand.

"Look at you," she growled, her voice thick, filthy. "Breathing like you're already coming. Fuck, Orm... your tits in my mouth, your body begging for it — you have no idea what you do to me."

I moaned, high and raw, grinding against her thigh now, frantic.

"Say it," she demanded, pulling her mouth away just long enough to make me crave it. "Tell me whose you are."

"I'm yours," I gasped, chest flushed, nipples red and soaked from her mouth.

She slid two fingers beneath the waistband — still not inside, just enough to drive me mad.

"Louder."

"I'm yours," I choked. "I'm fucking yours."

She kissed her way back up, biting my throat hard enough to leave a mark. "You're mine to ruin," she whispered. "Mine to worship. And tonight, I don't want you quiet. I want you screaming."

Lingling's mouth hovered just beneath my jaw, her breath thick and molten against my damp skin.

"Tell me how you want it," she whispered.

Not a question.

A demand.

A test.

My lips parted around a breath I could barely hold. "From the back," I said, voice trembling — not with fear, but pure, ravenous hunger.

Everything went still.

Then her breath punched out in a sound between a groan and a growl — a crack in her control so loud I could feel it in my bones. Her fingers dug into my hips beneath the water, tight enough to make me gasp.

"Fuck, Orm..."

She dropped her forehead to my shoulder, chest heaving, trying and failing to steady herself.

"You say shit like that," she whispered, voice wrecked, "and you expect me to hold back?"

I turned in her arms, slow and deliberate, blonde hair wet and clinging to my spine. I faced the open sea — moon hanging low, cliffs stretching high like silent voyeurs — and placed my palms against the warm stone edge of the pool.

Back arched. Ass tilted up toward her. I looked over my shoulder, eyes locked with hers, lips parted.

"I don't want you to hold back," I said. "I want you feral."

She snapped.

The sound she made was primal. She slammed her hand down on the water, sending waves rippling around us.

"You want me to fuck you from behind?" she rasped, voice hoarse with want. "You want me deep, baobei?"

"Yes," I whispered. "Hard. Deep. All of it."

She dragged her hands up my back, gripping my shoulders like she wanted to drag me under. "You want my strap, baobei?"

My whole body jolted. "God, yes."

Lingling laughed — low, filthy, completely unhinged. "I knew you'd say that," she growled. "That's why I packed it. In my luggage from Bangkok. You think I wasn't planning to bend you over the second I got you alone?"

"Please," I moaned. "Ling..."

"Oh, God," she hissed, running her hands down to my ass, squeezing, spreading, owning. "The way you're presenting for me right now, back arched, dripping — you need it. I can feel how bad you want to be filled."

"I do," I gasped. "I want you to fuck me so deep I forget how to stand."

Her teeth scraped my shoulder. "You won't be able to walk, let alone stand. Not after I'm done with you."

I whimpered — legs trembling, chest heaving. Her voice curled around me like silk-dipped sin.

"You want me to strap in and ruin this perfect little body?" she whispered into the nape of my neck. "You want me to rail you so hard this pool echoes with your moans?"

"Yes—fuck—yes, Lingling. Please."

She groaned, grounding her hips against my ass, bikini still clinging to her soaked skin. Her chest pressed flush to my back, her hands everywhere — dragging down my waist, gripping my thighs, slipping beneath the edge of my bottoms to tease where I pulsed and ached.

"You're so wet I could slide right in," she growled. "No prep. No mercy. Just me fucking you deep enough to leave you shaking."

My breath shattered. "I want it. I want you."

Her lips brushed the center of my spine — slow, reverent. "And you'll get me," she whispered. "Every thick inch. Every thrust. I'm gonna make you feel it for days."

And then—finally—she hooked her fingers into my bikini bottoms and peeled them down, slow, deliberate, baring me completely. The black fabric clung, soaked, before she tossed it aside. I gasped as the cool water kissed my wet heat, every nerve raw, exposed.

She groaned at the sight of me—bent over the edge of the warm stone pool, ass slick, thighs parted, trembling beneath her. "Look at this view," she hissed, dragging her fingers through me. "My beautiful girl, wide open and begging for it."

Then her teeth sank into my shoulder—hard—pulling a gasp from my throat as she rutted against me.

"I'm bringing the strap into the pool."

I stayed right there — bent over the warm stone edge of the infinity pool, skin slick, chest heaving, the sea shimmering before me like a dream I was about to drown in.

Behind me, Lingling climbed out of the water without a word. I turned my head just enough to catch the silhouette of her body under the moonlight — curves glistening, muscles taut, red bikini peeling away from her skin in slow, soaked defiance.

She disappeared into the villa, bare hips swaying like a promise and a threat.

I pressed my forehead to my forearm, panting, aching, burning — not just from what she'd said, but from everything she was.

Tomorrow, I was marrying her.

Lingling Kwong.

The most dangerous woman in Southeast Asia. Feared by empires. Worshipped in whispers. And somehow, mine.

I looked out at the Amalfi coastline — white villas clinging to cliffs like pearls strung along a god's throat — and felt the weight of it settle in my chest.

I was hers.

And she was about to prove it again.

A sound behind me — the soft click of the terrace doors sliding open — made my breath hitch.

I turned, slowly.

And there she was.

Lingling walked back across the stone patio like sin incarnate — hair damp and wild, a silk robe slung loose around her hips, revealing miles of golden skin and glow. But what made my knees go weak was what she wore underneath.

The strap.

Black. Thick. Perfectly fitted around her hips like a weapon forged just for this.

My throat went dry.

Her smirk was pure wickedness. "Still want it?" she asked, voice low and dark and coated in sex.

I nodded, lips parted, desperate. "I want everything."

She stepped back into the pool without breaking eye contact — the water curling around her thighs, moonlight painting her bare shoulders silver. The strap was already submerged, but its presence was unmistakable, jutting forward like a promise. Her silhouette eclipsed the glittering Amalfi skyline — and yet somehow, she felt larger than it all.

"You see that view?" she asked, nodding to the open sky, the sweeping cliffs, the lights of Amalfi glittering like a sea of stars. "All of it watching. And you?"

She cupped my jaw — fingers firm, thumb brushing my lower lip — and kissed me with slow, claiming hunger, her tongue stroking mine like she was already inside me. She tasted like power. Like need. Like the edge of something I'd never come back from.

When she pulled away, her breath dragged over my skin like smoke. "You're about to get fucked in front of all of it."

I moaned, helpless — already shaking.

She turned me around with practiced ease, hands guiding me back into position like she'd done it a hundred times.

Palms flat on warm, wet stone.

Ass arched.

Heart pounding.

The sea stretched out before me — wild, endless — just like her.

Behind me, I heard water shift as Lingling stepped closer. Her body pressed against mine, slick and strong, the tip of the strap nudging between my thighs with agonizing slowness.

"Hold still," she breathed. "Don't move. Not until I say."

I whimpered, nodding, breath hitching.

"I need you," I whispered.

She didn't answer. She didn't have to.

Her hands spread me open beneath the water, fingers teasing, dragging through slick heat. I gasped, jerking against her touch — water splashing up around us.

"You're soaked," she said, amused, lips grazing my shoulder. "Dripping for me already, huh?"

"Yes," I gasped. "Please, Ling—"

She slid the head of the strap against my entrance — thick and heavy — letting it rest there, not pushing, just letting me feel the threat of it.

My whole body trembled.

"You feel that?" she breathed against my ear. "That's me. About to fuck this tight, greedy little pussy until you're crying into the sea."

Her hand clamped around my throat, just enough pressure to make me gasp.

"I'll wreck you so deep," she growled, "you'll still be aching for me on our wedding night."

I cried out — legs almost giving.

"Say it," she hissed. "Say what you want."

"I want your cock," I moaned, desperate. "Please, Ling, I want you inside me. I want you to fuck me."

That was all it took.

She pushed — slow and brutal, stretching me open, inch by inch, until she was buried inside me. My fingers clawed at the edge of the pool, knuckles white.

"Oh fuck," I sobbed. "Yes—yes, more—"

She gripped my hips like reins, dragging me back onto her — water sloshing with every thrust, splashing over the edge, echoing in waves around us. The pool became chaos — moonlight shattered across the surface, white foam lapping at our thighs, the sound of skin and water and breath colliding.

Her strap moved inside me — thick and ruthless — pounding deep and steady, making me jerk forward with every thrust, my tits bouncing, ass shaking, barely able to hold myself up.

"Look at you," she rasped. "Moaning for it. Fucking yourself on me like a needy little slut. You love this, don't you?"

"Yes," I cried. "God, yes, I love it—I love you—"

She snarled, driving into me harder — water crashing up around our waists, my body jerking forward with each relentless thrust, toes curling against the stone.

"This pussy's mine now," she growled. "Say it."

"Yours," I gasped. "It's yours—it's all yours, fuck, don't stop—"

She leaned over me, chest flush to my back, one hand tangled in my wet hair, the other gripping my breast like she owned it. Her teeth grazed my shoulder again — then bit down, hard.

"I'll stop when I've fucked your name out of your mouth."

I sobbed — half from pain, half from the unbearable pleasure cresting behind my eyes. My cries were ragged, echoing into the night, bouncing off cliffs and sea and sky. My body was shaking, clenching, spiraling.

"Tell me what you see, baobei," she rasped. "Out there."

"The sea," I moaned. "The stars. The cliffs—oh God—"

"No," she growled, her hips slamming into me. "You see a wife. My wife. Bent over. Soaked. Screaming like a little whore while I fuck her senseless before our vows."

My arms trembled against the pool's edge, salt and moonlight clinging to my skin. I could barely breathe, barely think — the only thing real was her.

Lingling.

Behind me. Inside me.

Fucking owning me.

She was fucking me like she meant to break me. Like the sea belonged to her. Like the sky would remember the sounds I made tonight.

Her fingers twisted tighter in my hair, dragging my head back until my throat was exposed, neck arched, mouth falling open in a soundless moan.

"Stay still," Lingling growled in my ear — her voice a dark rasp, hot breath against my skin. "You're trembling already. That desperate for my cock, doctor?"

"Yes," I gasped. "Fuck, yes—please—don't stop—"

But she did.

She stopped moving entirely.

The strap — thick, solid, buried so deep inside me I felt split open — just stayed there. Heavy. Still. A brutal promise without relief.

My body bucked, involuntary and aching. I tried to grind back against her, but her grip in my hair snapped tighter, pulling a helpless moan from my chest.

"Lingling—" I whimpered, "don't do this—please—"

Her laugh was low and cruel and maddening. "Oh, Orm. You think you get to come just because you're begging so pretty?" Her voice curled around my spine like smoke. "I told you I was gonna ruin you. You're not getting off until I say."

Her other hand slid around to my throat again  — wet fingers brushing my pulse — not choking, just owning. My breath hitched. My cunt clenched. I was soaked. Needy. Slipping.

"You come when I say," she whispered, lips grazing my ear. "And not a fucking second before."

I was shaking — thighs trembling, arms barely holding me upright against the edge of the pool, body open to her, owned by her.

"Do you hear me, Orm?"

I couldn't answer. My jaw locked, mouth open but no words came. I was too far gone — too full, too desperate, too wrecked.

So she pulled out just far enough to make me whine — then slammed back in, hard and deep, the sound obscene as water splashed and my body clapped back against hers.

"I said," she hissed, fucking into me again, slow and brutal, "Do you hear me?"

"Y-Yes!" I cried, finally. "Yes, Ling! I hear you—fuck—please—"

"That's better," she snarled, her strap still.

"Please," I whimpered. "I need you—need to come—"

"I know." Her grin was all fang. "I can feel this tight little pussy clutching me like it's starving. But not yet."

She shifted her hips — slow, excruciating — dragging the thick strap halfway out of me, making every ridge press against my walls, then slamming it back in with a deep, brutal roll of her hips. The sound of it echoed off the cliffs — water sloshing violently around our bodies, splashing over the stone.

"Fuck!" I cried, jolting forward — only for her to yank me back again by the hair, forcing my spine to arch, back to bow.

"Look at you," she purred. "So wet I can feel you dripping down my thighs. You love it when I fuck you like this. Used. Owned. Mine."

She snapped her hips again — once, twice — the strap bottoming out with precision, stretching me, pounding into the deepest part of me. I moaned like an animal, raw and broken.

Then — she stilled again.

I nearly sobbed.

"You're gonna come when I let you," she said, voice low and sharp as a blade. "But first, you're gonna feel it. Every. Fucking. Inch."

She thrust again — slow, so slow — the entire length of the cock dragging against my inner walls, making me clench and shudder. Then out. Almost all the way. Then in — sharp, punishing, deep.

Again. And again.

Until I was whimpering with every stroke, my body twitching with each roll of her hips. The water around us churned — waves rising and crashing over the edge of the infinity pool, spilling down into Amalfi like the sea itself was watching.

Her grip shifted — one hand gripping my jaw now, forcing my head to the side, her mouth close, breath hot and filthy.

"You wanna scream, Orm?" she growled. "You wanna break for me? You want to come all over my cock like the little slut you are?"

"Yes," I panted. "God—please, I need—"

Her mouth slammed onto my shoulder, teeth sinking in — biting down hard, marking me. I gasped, the sting shooting straight to my core. Her nails dragged down my back, raking fire across wet skin.

"Then earn it," she hissed into my flesh. "Say what you are."

"I'm yours," I cried.

"Louder."

"Yours!" I sobbed. "I'm yours—fuck—please, Ling—"

Her voice went ragged, thick with lust. "This body. This perfect pussy. That slutty little mouth. All mine."

She thrust again — hard — her strap slamming into me with a rhythm that made my whole body rock forward. My hands slipped against wet stone. My legs threatened to collapse.

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. I could only feel her.

"You're right there, aren't you?" she purred. "So close you could scream?"

"Yes," I cried. "I'm right there—I need to—fuck—I need to—"

She growled deep in her throat and fucked me harder — wild, savage thrusts that slapped against my ass and sent water cascading over the pool's edge, my moans echoing out over the cliffs. She reached around and slid her fingers between my legs — finding my clit like she knew exactly what would break me.

Then, just as I was about to snap—

"Don't you dare come," she growled. "Not yet."

I sobbed — body twitching, begging — my clit throbbing under her perfect touch, her strap driving into me like it was carving her name into my soul.

"You're gonna wait," she said, biting down again — a new mark, a deeper bruise. "You're gonna feel it. Let it build. Let it burn. So when I finally let you go—" her hand clamped over my mouth, "—you'll scream for me loud enough to wake the whole fucking coast."

I nodded — a trembling mess of 'yes-yes-please ' and broken gasps.

And then she let go.

Fucked me so hard I saw stars. Fingers ruthless on my clit. Her strap punishing and perfect, sliding in and out with wild, wet slaps that echoed like waves crashing into stone.

"You gonna make a mess for me, Orm?" she whispered, breath catching. "You gonna come like you belong to me? Gonna let this pretty little cunt melt all over my cock?"

I broke.

Came so hard I screamed into the night — sobbing, clenching, soaking the strap as my whole body shattered around her.

I was still trembling, bent over the warm stone, water lapping at my thighs, legs spread and spent, wrecked in the most obscene and perfect way.

Lingling stood behind me — breathless, body pressed to mine like she couldn't bear to let go. Her chest heaved, slick and flushed against my back, and every sharp inhale she took made her strap push deep inside me, still seated there like she'd claimed me and wasn't done yet.

Her mouth grazed the nape of my neck, teeth dragging across skin. "Fuck," she rasped. "You looked so good like that. Bent over. Begging. Shaking for me like that. You almost made me come just watching your pussy take me."

I whimpered, body clenching at her words.

Then, slowly, I turned in her arms — knees wobbling, cunt still pulsing, the evidence of what she'd done to me shining on the strap between us. My body was ruined.

Wet. Raw.

But I needed more.

I wrapped myself around her. Our bodies slick and tangled, my eyes wild. Her chest heaved. Her jaw was tight, dark hair dripping down her shoulders like strands of shadow. The strap was still hard between us — glistening with pool water and me.

"That was the best I've ever had," I whispered against her mouth, voice hoarse. "I didn't even know I could come like that."

She stared at me — stunned, disarmed. Her lips parted, pupils blown wide, like I had just taken her apart.

I leaned in and kissed her. Deep. Slow. Worshipful.

Then I pulled back, my breath still shaking, and whispered, "I want more."

Her brows lifted, stunned and wrecked. "Orm—"

"In my mouth," I said, licking my lips. "Right now."

She froze for one heartbeat.

Then she smiled — slow, feral, full of sin.

"You want to suck it?" she asked, voice turning low and rich, thick with disbelief and hunger. "After I just fucked you so hard you're dripping down my thighs?"

I nodded, already lowering myself. "I want to taste what you did to me."

Her breath hitched like she couldn't take it. "You're gonna ruin me," she whispered.

But she stepped back anyway — rising from the pool with quiet dominance, water cascading off her body in moonlit sheets. Her abs flexed, her hips rolling slightly as she stood there, presenting the glistening strap between her legs like a prize. It was slick, shining with both water and me, thick and flushed dark with promise.

I dropped to my knees — willing, aching — sinking into the shallow water before her.

"Look at you, Doctor" she breathed, brushing wet blonde strands from my face. "All that mouth. All that fucking pride. On your knees for me now, like you were born to worship."

I looked up, voice low and reverent. "I am."

She groaned. "Open, baobei."

I did — slowly, deliberately, my lips parting in pure offering.

But I didn't take her in right away.

I leaned forward and kissed the tip of the strap — featherlight — just a ghost of contact. I could taste myself on it. My arousal. My wreckage. And it only made me hungrier.

Lingling's whole body twitched.

"Holy fuck," she muttered, almost to herself. "You're tasting yourself, aren't you?"

I moaned softly. "Mmhm."

Her hand slid into my hair, not yanking — just holding. Possessive. Shaking.

"You're gonna suck it," she said. "You're gonna lick up everything I pulled out of you. Taste how ruined you are. How mine you are."

I leaned in and licked the shaft slowly from base to tip, swirling my tongue where I was the wettest. Lingling cursed hard — her hand tightening in my hair.

"You look like sin," she groaned. "That pretty mouth wrapped around my strap, tongue tasting your own mess? You're gonna make me fucking explode."

I opened wider and took her in — slow and smooth, letting the strap fill my mouth inch by inch, heavy against my tongue, warm and coated in slick heat. I sucked it down until I couldn't anymore, then pulled back with a soft, obscene sound that made her whimper.

"Jesus, Orm—fuck—you know what you look like?" she said, voice trembling. "Like my good little slut. My girl on her knees, mouth full of cock, eyes begging for more."

I moaned around her and took her deep again — this time faster, with more hunger. I bobbed my head in a perfect rhythm, letting my tongue drag along the underside, lips wrapping tight around the base. Her thighs trembled, her breath caught in her throat.

"Oh my god—just like that," she groaned, hips jerking forward involuntarily. "You're sucking it like it's real. Like you're addicted to the way I taste on it."

I was.

Every thrust of the strap into my mouth made my pussy throb again, the stretch of my jaw mirroring the ache between my legs. My moans vibrated against her, making her knees buckle slightly.

"Fuck, Orm," she gasped. "You want to make me lose control? You want me to come just from your mouth on my strap?"

I pulled off with a slick pop, looking up at her with flushed cheeks, breath ragged. "I want you to come from watching me. From knowing this mouth—your mouth—is filthy for you."

She groaned like I'd punched the breath from her lungs.

"I'll never recover from this," she whispered, running her thumb across my lips. "Look at you. Wet, ruined, proud — and still so fucking hungry."

I took her back in — deeper this time. I hollowed my cheeks and sucked her like I was trying to drain every last drop of control from her body. My nails dug into her thighs for leverage. Her moans cracked open the night sky.

Her hand slipped from my hair to my jaw, trembling, as she looked down at me — completely wrecked, undone, trying to catch her breath but failing.

I made sure she heard it.

Every wet, obscene sound as I sucked her strap deep into my throat. Every slurp, every swallow. Let her feel it in her bones — the raw, messy hunger that turned me from her quiet little doctor into a creature made of want. Made for her.

Her hands weren't on my jaw anymore — they were gripping the edge of the stone behind her, white-knuckled, like touching me might shatter whatever fragile control she had left.

I pulled back with a loud pop, spit connecting my lips to the swollen, glistening length of the strap. My mouth was a mess. My chin soaked.

My tongue licked a slow trail across my bottom lip as I stared up at her.

Her chest was heaving. Her mouth open. Her thighs trembling like she was seconds from collapse.

"Orm..." she gasped, voice wrecked and barely there. "You're—fuck—you're so loud."

I smirked, voice rich and filthy. "You love it. You're dripping just from listening to me fuck your strap with my mouth."

She groaned, hips twitching, and I watched the way her muscles flexed — desperate, straining.

"You're shaking," I murmured, dragging my nails up her trembling inner thigh. "Don't tell me I've got the Lingling — mafia queen, stone-cold killer — ready to beg."

She let out a wild, breathless laugh, laced with disbelief and surrender. "You don't know what you're doing to me right now."

I leaned forward, close to the tip, whispering against the slick surface. "No, baby. I know exactly what I'm doing."

Then I took her in again — slower this time, inch by torturous inch, my tongue curling underneath the shaft, savoring the taste of her and me together. I looked up through wet lashes as she bit her lip hard enough to bleed.

She started panting, hips shifting forward instinctively — but I stopped. Froze with just the tip in my mouth.

She whimpered.

Then thrust.

A quick, shallow buck of her hips, like she couldn't help it.

I pulled back instantly, wrapping one hand around her hip, holding her down, fingers digging into the bone. "Uh-uh," I said sweetly, voice dark. "You don't get to use me like that. Not until I say."

Her whole body twitched with frustration.

"You made me beg earlier," I continued, brushing my thumb along the underside of the shaft. "Made me suffer. Now it's your turn."

She cursed under her breath — in Thai this time — guttural, helpless.

I leaned in again, let my lips ghost over the head. Licked, slow and deliberate. Let her ache for it.

"You want it?" I whispered. "Want to fuck my throat like a desperate girl who can't wait another second?"

She nodded, frantic, breathing like she'd been running for her life.

I clicked my tongue and pulled back again. "Use your words, Lingling."

She growled low — an animal sound. "You're playing with fire."

I grinned. "Then burn for me."

And I took her in again — deeper this time, my lips stretching, throat swallowing inch after inch. I hollowed my cheeks and let her feel it, every tight drag, every suck.

"F-fuck," she whimpered, voice shattering. "Orm—please—"

I pulled back slowly, spit trailing in strands from my lips to her strap.

"Say it," I whispered, kissing the tip, flicking it with my tongue. "Say I own this moment."

Her hands gripped the stone like she might tear it apart. "You—fuck—you own it. You own me."

I moaned against her, nuzzling her strap, letting my lips drag along the slick shaft like it was holy. "Good girl."

Then I looked up at her, eyes locked, and whispered:

"Beg for it."

And she did.

Her voice broke. Her knees shook. Her body leaned forward like the need was dragging her under.

"Please," she choked out. "Please let me fuck your mouth. I can't—Orm—I need it, I need it—"

And because she asked so pretty...

I gave it to her.

I opened wide and let her thrust.

Slow at first — her hips jerking forward with caution, almost reverence — but when she felt the wet heat of my throat welcoming her, she lost control.

She started to fuck my mouth.

Messy. Unsteady. Desperate.

The strap bottomed out against my tongue again and again, the thick shaft stretching me, filling me completely. She moaned louder with each stroke, body trembling with restraint and need, and I let her unravel.

"God, baobei—your mouth—fuck, your mouth is perfect—"

I grabbed her hips and guided her now, pushing her deeper, making her ride my face like she was mine. I wanted her twitching. Wanting. Just on the edge of falling apart.

"I'm gonna come," she gasped. "Oh fuck—I'm—"

I pulled off right at the brink, leaving her throbbing in the open air.

She screamed, hips bucking into nothing, mouth open in disbelief. "NO—Orm—fuck—you're gonna kill me."

I kissed her inner thigh again, soft, gentle, loving.

"Not yet," I whispered. "You don't come until I say you can."

She was panting like she couldn't breathe.

"Please," she begged, voice ragged. "Please, baobei—let me come. I'm—God—I can't hold it—"

I smiled against her skin. "You can. You will."

Then I sucked her back in, hard and deep — no teasing now. I worked her like she was mine to devour, fast and unrelenting. My lips stretched wide, my cheeks hollowed, my throat swallowed her whole.

She shattered in less than ten seconds.

Loud.

Raw.

Violent.

Her body seized, her moan ripped from her like she was dying for it, every muscle going rigid.

"F-fuck, Orm—!" she sobbed, clutching the stone like a lifeline. "I'm coming—fuck—I'm coming—"

She collapsed forward, gasping. She came like she couldn't stop — hips jerking, moans cracked and hoarse and honest.

When I finally let her go, she slid down the wall, trembling, half-wrecked.

"Holy shit," she whispered, voice raw and broken. "You... looked so good down there..."

I licked my lips again, my mouth slick. I looked up, tongue running across my bottom lip slow as sin.

"You say that like it's a surprise," I said, voice dark and dripping heat. "I always look good on my knees for you, mafia queen."

She looked like she could barely breathe. Her eyes wide, full of disbelief and lust, like I'd just rewritten her idea of pleasure.

"You don't get it," she whispered. "You looked dangerous. Like you knew you owned me."

I stood up slowly, body gleaming, hips swaying like I was still in control — because I was.

I kissed her again — deep, slow, tongue dragging over hers like I was still tasting the way she'd come for me. She moaned into it, soft and high-pitched, the sound almost girlish — like her body had forgotten how to lie.

I kissed her like I needed to remind her whose mouth just stole her soul.

She clung to me, arms tight around my shoulders like gravity had stopped working, like the only thing keeping her upright was me.

I pulled back just enough to breathe, brushing my lips over hers, smug and sticky with heat.

"You look fucked," I whispered, sweet as sin. "All that power, and I ruined you with my mouth."

Her eyes fluttered open — chocolate brown dazed and glassy — and she tried to smirk, but it fell apart halfway through, her lips twitching uselessly.

Her legs buckled.

I caught her before she could slide down the wall, one arm under her ass like she weighed nothing.

"Oh no, baby," I cooed, holding her up. "We're not done yet."

"Orm—" she warned, voice rough and frayed, shaking with the tattered edges of control.

"Shh," I breathed against her throat, kissing the sweat-slick skin. "You said I looked dangerous."

I bit down on the curve of her neck — hard enough to leave a mark — and her whole body jerked in my arms. A soft cry slipped from her lips. High-pitched.

That sound made my blood go molten.

"You don't know what you just invited," I whispered, dragging my tongue up the bite.

She whimpered.

I carried her down the hall — bare feet, naked, my chin still wet with my own saliva. My cocky little secret: Lingling, queen of Thailand, whimpering in my arms like a girl who didn't know how to handle being touched like this.

I peeked around each corner like we were teens sneaking back after curfew.

She was the mafia queen.

And I'd just made her come so hard on my tongue she couldn't walk straight.

I kicked the bedroom door shut with my heel.

"On the bed," I said, voice low and dark. "Spread out for me."

She gave me a look — smug, skeptical, cocky — but her cheeks were flushed and her thighs still trembling.

"You think I'm not too sensitive to move?" she rasped, voice pitched high again from the overstimulation.

"Then lie there," I countered, crawling over her. "I'll do the moving."

I straddled her waist, body slick, my arousal wet and glistening against the muscle of her abs. She gasped as I bent low, tongue sliding across her chest, teasing.

Her red bikini top still clung to her, soaked and almost sheer. I slid my fingers under the thin straps and tugged them down, slow, deliberate. Lingling's breath stuttered.

I pulled the top off her completely and tossed it aside, revealing her breasts.

Her nipples were tight, pebbling instantly as the cool air hit them — and I bit down hard on one.

She arched with a broken sound, breath catching. "F-fuck—Orm—!"

"Still so responsive," I murmured into her skin, licking slow and mean. "Even after I made you cry."

"You didn't just make me cry," she choked, hand fisting the sheets. "You made me come... from that."

She looked down — her eyes dropping to the soaked strap still hanging between us, glistening with spit and slick.

She swallowed hard.

"That's plastic," she whispered, dazed. "What the fuck did you do to me?"

I laughed — low, smug, dangerous. "I made you forget it was fake."

She whimpered again — high and soft — and that pitch did something to me.

"You make that sound," I whispered, "and I want to ruin you again."

"I can't," she breathed, head tossing against the pillow. "I'm too—fuck, Orm, I'm too sensitive—"

"You can," I said, sitting up. I grabbed her hand and guided it between my thighs. "You made me this wet. You don't get to quit until I'm done with you."

Her fingers slipped inside me, and the moan she let out was so deep, so wrecked, I nearly came from the sound alone.

"God," she whispered. "You're soaked. You're fucking dripping."

"For you," I panted. "Because I want to ride you."

She was too sensitive, every touch making her shudder, every breath catching in her throat — but her body wanted.

"I want to feel you stretch me out," I breathed, hips grinding down against her shaft. "I want to fuck myself open on your strap and watch your face when I do."

She cursed, jaw clenched like she was holding onto her sanity by a thread.

I leaned close, my breath hot against her ear. "I want to make you beg."

That broke her.

"You want to ride?" she rasped, eyes wild. "Then ride me, doctor. Break me."

I grinned at her, fire in my belly.

"Gladly."

She held herself steady, and I reached down, positioning the head at my entrance.

Then I sank down onto her strap with a moan so loud I swore the windows shook.

God—it wasn't even skin-on-skin, but I could feel her through it. I could feel Lingling throbbing, twitching beneath the harness like she was inside me in spirit, if not in flesh. The shaft was thick, curved just right, and buried so deep in me it made my breath catch. My thighs shook. My body clenched around the silicone like it was real.

I hadn't even started moving yet.

Lingling was leaning back on her elbows now, eyes glued between my thighs like she couldn't look away. Her lips were parted, her chest still rising too fast from the last orgasm I dragged out of her. But her eyes—god, her eyes were ravenous.

"You watching?" I asked, syrup-slow, voice thick with sin. I rolled my hips in a slow, shallow grind, letting the strap nudge against that swollen, aching spot inside me. My moan came out low, breathy—then again, louder, higher, letting it curl in the air between us.

Lingling swallowed hard, jaw twitching like she was trying to stop her hands from moving.

"Orm..." Her voice cracked on my name.

I rolled again, deeper this time—arched my back, hips circling like honey dripping from a spoon. The base of the strap ground against my clit just right, pressure building, slow and mean.

I bit my bottom lip and looked her dead in the eyes.

"You wanna see me fuck myself on you?"

Her throat bobbed. "Baobei—fuck—don't tease me like that."

I smirked. I was teasing. I wanted to tease. I wanted to wreck her with the way I moved.

I lifted up just an inch—enough to make her see how wet I was, how the slick gleamed across the strap in the dim light. The shaft was soaked, glossy with arousal that clung in thick strings as I pulled off the tip.

Then I dropped.

Hard.

I slammed back down onto her strap with a cry that broke through the walls like thunder.

Her whole body jolted. She gripped the sheets, knuckles white. Her abs tensed, hips bucking once—almost involuntarily.

"F-fuck, Orm—!"

I didn't stop.

I kept going—slow, filthy, methodical. I rose up, inch by inch, letting the head of the strap drag against the walls inside me, stretching me open again like I was brand new. Then I dropped—hard—hips grinding forward at the bottom of the stroke to let the base press firm against my clit.

Every bounce sent a shock through my core. The pressure was perfect—enough to make my legs tremble, enough to make me pant, almost enough to make me come.

But I wasn't going to give it to myself yet.

Not yet.

Lingling looked like she was dying.

"God," she groaned. "Your chest—Orm, please—let me touch you."

Her voice was rough, begging now, and her eyes were locked on my breasts—bouncing, flushed, perfect as I rode her.

"No." I breathed the word like a curse. "You don't get to touch."

I slowed my hips, rolling forward with a long grind. "You get to watch."

Then I leaned in—slowly, sensually—and hooked two fingers under her chin.

"Open your mouth," I whispered.

She obeyed instantly—eyes glassy, lips parted—and I slid one breast into her mouth, moaning when her tongue met my nipple.

She groaned around it—guttural—her hands still clutching the sheets, every muscle tense like she was trying not to grab me and flip me right then and there.

Her mouth was hot. Wet. Her tongue circled me with slow, reverent swirls that sent shivers down my spine. I ground down harder on the strap, moaning into her hair, chest heaving as she suckled like she needed it to survive.

"Good girl," I gasped. "Keep sucking."

I rode her harder now—body lifting and dropping with long, deliberate thrusts. The strap plunged deep with every bounce, the curve hitting that spot that made my whole body tense. The friction at my clit was maddening—sharp, sweet, almost unbearable.

I could feel myself edging—riding the edge so hard, my thighs burned.

I moaned, low and wrecked. "I'm gonna come like this. Right in your lap. While you just sit there and drink from me."

She moaned around my breast, eyes wild.

"Look at you," I breathed, pulling back to meet her gaze. "Still hard for me after I made you cry. Still twitching inside me like you want to come again just from watching me fuck myself open."

"Please," she whispered. "Let me touch you. Let me—please—Orm—"

I shook my head.

Instead, I reached down between my legs and spread myself open for her, two fingers pulling the slick folds apart so she could see how soaked the shaft was, how deep I was taking her. I rolled my hips again—slow, shameless, obscene.

"You see that?" I whispered. "That's how bad I need you."

She choked on a groan, her hips jerking.

"You're—god, you're so fucking perfect—I can't—"

"You'll wait." I braced my palms behind me on her thighs, leaning back, and started riding her in earnest. My movements were wild now—bouncing, grinding, fucking myself so deep I could feel my voice break on every moan.

"Oh—oh f-fuck—" I gasped. "Ling—I can't—I'm—"

I rubbed my clit—fast, tight circles—and came with a scream that tore the air in two.

It hit like lightning.

White-hot. Violent. Shattering.

I arched, hips jerking, every muscle locked as the orgasm ripped through me. I cried out again—louder—shaking as the strap throbbed inside me like it was alive.

And still I didn't stop.

I kept riding, grinding through the aftershocks, moaning her name like it was prayer and sin all at once.

When I finally slowed, I was trembling—breathless, soaked, wrecked.

And Lingling?

She looked like she was about to snap.

Her voice was wrecked when she spoke.

"Get off."

I blinked, chest still heaving. "What—"

"Get off. Your turn's over."

Her hands finally left the sheets.

She grabbed my hips and flipped me before I could blink, straddling me, breath hot against my mouth.

"You tease me like that," she growled, "and think I won't take what I need?"

And when she pushed back in—deep—I screamed again.

...

My thighs were soaked.

My voice was gone.

My body—wrecked.

Lingling hadn't just fucked me. She'd ruined me.

Pinned me down hours ago, legs hooked over her broad shoulders, holding me open and helpless as she fucked me slow and deep like she wanted to etch her name into every trembling inch inside me.

And now?

Now I was limp beneath her. Raw. Shuddering in the aftermath.

My skin was flushed and sticky, my lips kiss-bruised, my blonde hair plastered across the pillow in wet, tangled waves. I couldn't even twitch without whimpering. She had wrung everything out of me.

And still—

She hadn't pulled out.

God, she was still inside me.

The strap nestled so deep it felt like it was part of me now, like if she moved even an inch, I'd come again just from the stretch. I could feel every subtle shift—every twitch of her hips, every drag of breath as she hovered over me, weight warm and heavy on my chest.

I whimpered.

She kissed my neck, slow and reverent, like her mouth was the only soft part of her. Sweat dripped from her temple, her heart thudding hard against my ribs.

"Jesus, Orm..." she whispered, voice hoarse and shaking. "You okay?"

I smiled—weak and wrecked. "No."

She gave a breathless laugh. "You look like you've been through a goddamn war."

"I did." I shifted my hips, just a little, and gasped as the strap moved inside me, thick and solid and still fucking perfect. "You started it."

Her groan vibrated down into my throat. "Fuck. I need to take care of you."

I felt her start to pull back—like she was going to clean me up, maybe get a towel, be the responsible one.

I gripped her hip tight, dragging her right back in.

"No," I breathed.

She stilled. "Orm..."

I opened my eyes. Licked my lips. Whispered like a sin.

"Leave it in."

Her breath hitched.

"You're serious?"

"I'm too sore to move. Too full to care." I arched into her, mouth parting in a raw little cry as the strap shifted deeper. "It feels good. I want it. Stay."

She closed her eyes like she was physically in pain from how much I ruined her.

"You're fucking insatiable."

"And you fucking love it."

She let out a helpless sound—half-laugh, half-moan—and lowered her weight back onto me, still fully sheathed. Her hips flexed once without meaning to and I jerked beneath her, breath hitching on a whine that made her growl.

"Jesus, you're still clenching around me."

I dragged my nails down her back weakly. "Because you didn't fuck me, Lingling. You claimed me."

Her arms wrapped tight around me. She pressed a kiss to my collarbone—soft, shaky.

"I should clean you up..."

"Don't."

"But Orm—"

"Don't move." My voice was cracked but firm. I rolled my hips lazily, the drag of silicone against my walls making my toes curl again. "You can clean me in the morning."

"You'll be sticky."

"I want to wake up messy." I nipped her ear. "Want to feel this tomorrow when I sit down."

She groaned—deep.

"You're gonna be walking down the aisle like you just got railed in a goddamn back alley."

I smirked. "I did."

She kissed me. Slow. Filthy. Her lips were warm, her tongue lazy against mine, and even though she was trying to keep it soft, there was still hunger in it. Like she'd never get tired of my taste.

She pulled back just enough to look down at me, eyes soft and dangerous.

"Tomorrow, you become mine."

I tangled my fingers in her hair, still holding her inside me.

"I already am."

Her expression cracked—something vulnerable, something violent.

She kissed my forehead, then my cheek, then dragged her mouth down to my neck and just breathed me in.

And with her still buried deep inside me, I finally let sleep take me—sore, satisfied, and hopelessly in love.