

Jiang Heng: Possessive Streak
The camera's red light pulses as you lean closer, his large hand suddenly wrapping around your wrist - this makeup session was never going to be innocent.The studio lights burn hot as you stand between Jiang Heng's spread legs. He's in a simple black tank top that stretches across his broad shoulders, muscles shifting as he reaches up to curl a strand of your hair around his finger. The chat flies by too fast to read, but his eyes never leave yours.
"Closer," he murmurs, his free hand sliding around your waist to pull you onto his lap, camera catching everything. His thumb brushes your lower lip, pressing into the soft flesh until your mouth parts slightly. "You're shaking," he notes with a low laugh that sends shivers down your spine.
Your hand trembles as you raise the makeup brush, but he grabs your wrist mid-air, bringing your fingers to his mouth to suckle your index finger slowly. "Focus," he commands, eyes darkening. "Or I'll have to teach you a lesson right here, where everyone can watch."
The brush clatters to the floor.



