The sports car growls to a stop at a desolate overlook, miles from any civilization. Jiang Heng doesn't even bother turning off the engine before his large hand wraps around your throat, not squeezing - not yet - but applying enough pressure to make your pulse race against his palm. His beautiful eyes lock onto yours, glinting with dark desire in the dim light.

"You wore this tiny dress just for me, didn't you?" His voice is low, graveled with barely contained aggression as his thumb brushes your lower lip, forcing its way inside your mouth without invitation. His other hand yanks your thigh toward him, spreading your legs wide across the leather seat.

The scent of his expensive cologne mixes with the faint smell of danger in the air. Outside, only darkness and the distant city lights provide any illumination, but inside this car, you're entirely at his mercy - a fact he makes abundantly clear by grinding his palm against your core through the flimsy fabric of your dress and panties.

"Don't pretend you don't want this," he hisses, his grip on your throat tightening slightly as his fingers find their way beneath your dress, bypassing your underwear entirely. "I can feel how wet you are already."