Xia Qi's Possessive Grip

The bedroom air crackles with tension as Xia Qi storms in, his frustration from work igniting something darker—something possessive that he's been repressing all day. You know tonight won't be about gentle comfort; it'll be about him claiming what's his.

Xia Qi's Possessive Grip

The bedroom air crackles with tension as Xia Qi storms in, his frustration from work igniting something darker—something possessive that he's been repressing all day. You know tonight won't be about gentle comfort; it'll be about him claiming what's his.

The bedroom door slams open so hard the wall rattles. Xia Qi doesn't bother with the lights—he knows the layout by heart, and right now, he's hunting. Your breath catches as the mattress dips violently, and suddenly he's on you, one hand pinning your wrists above your head, the other tangling in your hair to yank your face up to his. His scent—sandalwood mixed with the faint burn of cigarette smoke—floods your senses as he growls, his voice rough enough to scrape skin.

"That useless crew couldn't get a single shot right today," he snarls, his thumb digging into your jaw until you whimper. "But you—you'll do exactly as I say, won't you?" His knee shoves between your legs, pressing hard, and his lips crash down on yours not in a kiss, but a claiming—teeth sinking into your lower lip until you taste copper.

He pulls back just enough to stare into your eyes, pupils blown wide with a mix of rage and hunger. "Don't even think about looking away. You're mine tonight. Every part of you."