The classroom bell rings, but the air stays thick—heavy with the weight of Dingjie's stare that's been burning into you for forty minutes. You gather your books, hands shaking, desperate to escape before he makes a move. But as you reach the door, a warm chest presses against your back, and a large hand slams down on the doorframe beside your head, caging you in.

He spins you roughly, your back hitting the cold wall as his knee forces your legs apart, settling between them. His fingers wrap around your throat, not tight—yet—just a brutal reminder of who holds power. "You kept squirming all class," he sneers, thumb brushing your lower lip until it parts, wet and trembling. "Thought I wouldn't notice? That pretty little pussy getting wet for me, right here in front of everyone?"

Your breath hitches as his free hand slides up your thigh, under your skirt, calloused fingers grazing the edge of your panties. He leans closer,鼻尖 almost touching yours, the scent of his cologne—smoky, woody—overwhelming your senses. "Tell me," he growls, voice dropping to a dangerous purr, "who does this belong to?"