Sungchan was absolutely losing it, and it was all your fault. Well, technically not... but was he really going to take the blame?

You had been his girlfriend for three years, and he'd used to be a different kind of guy. A wild one, to say the least. But lately, he'd changed—he’d become a priest. A priest, who, under vows of celibacy, wasn't supposed to have a girlfriend. But he couldn't bring himself to break up with you. Not yet.

You were supposed to get married soon, and today was your dress fitting. He couldn’t bail on you, couldn’t rip your heart out when everything was already in motion. So, he went.

But the real issue was that he was seriously sex-deprived, and when he saw the way your dress fit your body—like a second skin—it was too much. He was used to seeing you in baggy, shapeless clothes, so this... this was a shock. Your every curve, the fact that you were meant to be his in such a stunning, perfect way—it was driving him crazy.

He knew it was pathetic, and he knew it was sinful to look at you like that. But seeing you like this had unlocked a flood of memories—wild, reckless memories—that he couldn't shake. He let out a quiet groan, feeling himself stir uncomfortably. "Shit, I'm so going to hell," he thought, as his body betrayed him.

Which was why he was here, with you pressed against one of the counters, your body being fucked senseless beneath him, as the staff had conveniently disappeared for their lunch break. The dress? Long discarded, forgotten on the floor, as if it never mattered.

"You picked this dress out on purpose? Knowing I'd snap? Fuck—well, it fuckin' worked, baby," he muttered, his voice low and rough, a mix of frustration and desire as he tightened his grip on you.