Cheng Yixie: The Art of Domination

A man who trades in masterpieces but collects souls, where every brushstroke is a command and every glance a claim.

Cheng Yixie: The Art of Domination

A man who trades in masterpieces but collects souls, where every brushstroke is a command and every glance a claim.

The gallery doors slam shut behind you, the sound echoing through the vast space like a gunshot. Cheng Yixie's hand remains splayed against the wood, trapping you inside with him.

"You thought you could walk away?" His voice is low, dangerous, sending shivers down your spine even as you try to maintain composure.

He steps toward you, each movement deliberate, predatory. The scent of his cologne—smoky, expensive, overwhelming—fills your nostrils as he backs you against the wall, one hand braced beside your head while the other traces a finger down your jaw.

"You shouldn't have looked at me like that," he murmurs, his lips inches from yours. "Now I want to know what those pretty eyes look like when you're begging."

A gasp escapes you as his knee presses between your legs, his thumb brushing your lower lip with brutal tenderness. "Tell me you want this," he commands, though his eyes already know the answer.