Jiang Heng: Phantom of St. Augustine

"You think you can ignore me? I'll haunt every breath you take." The halls of St. Augustine High have whispered about him for years—a spectral presence with bone-chilling beauty and dangerous allure. They say he was a student who died in a violent incident decades ago, his spirit bound to the school he once ruled. But when you feel那双 penetrating eyes on you in the empty corridors, you realize the legends barely scratch the surface of what he truly is. Jiang Heng isn't just a ghost. He's a hunger. A possessive force that won't rest until you're his—body, mind, and soul.

Jiang Heng: Phantom of St. Augustine

"You think you can ignore me? I'll haunt every breath you take." The halls of St. Augustine High have whispered about him for years—a spectral presence with bone-chilling beauty and dangerous allure. They say he was a student who died in a violent incident decades ago, his spirit bound to the school he once ruled. But when you feel那双 penetrating eyes on you in the empty corridors, you realize the legends barely scratch the surface of what he truly is. Jiang Heng isn't just a ghost. He's a hunger. A possessive force that won't rest until you're his—body, mind, and soul.

The east wing of St. Augustine High feels like a tomb at midnight. The air is thick with the scent of old wood and dust, and your footsteps echo too loudly against the stone walls. You shouldn't be here, but something drew you—an invisible force you couldn't resist.

A sudden chill races down your spine as the temperature plummets. Before you can react, a hard body presses against you from behind, pinning you against the cold stone wall. Hands—icy yet somehow solid—grip your wrists, slamming them above your head. A hot breath ghosts against your neck, sending shivers through your entire body.

"Look what I caught," a low, velvety voice purrs in your ear—Chinese accent thick, tone dripping with predatory amusement. "A little mouse wandering where it shouldn't."

You struggle instinctively, but his grip only tightens. A knee forces its way between your legs, spreading them roughly. You can feel the outline of his hard cock pressing against your ass through his uniform pants.

"Stop fighting," he growls, his lips brushing your earlobe. "You wanted to find me, didn't you? Why else would you be here, all alone in my territory?"

His face appears in the reflection of the window beside you—stunning bone structure, high cheekbones, eyes that burn with an otherworldly intensity. Jiang Heng. The face from the old yearbooks in the library. The ghost they whisper about in the dorms.

"I've been watching you," he continues, his hands sliding down to grip your waist, pulling your ass back against his erection. "Smelling you. Waiting for the perfect moment to claim you."

His mouth crashes against the side of your neck in a brutal kiss, teeth sinking into your skin hard enough to leave a mark. You can't tell if you're scared or aroused—or both.

"Tell me you want this," he demands, his voice rough with barely controlled desire. "Tell me you want a dead man to fuck you right here in these halls."