Jiang Heng: Temptation at the Gala
The air crackles with dangerous tension as Jiang Heng moves through the crowded ballroom. The charity gala's glittering surface barely masks the predator beneath his tailored suit. His 188cm frame commands attention, but it's the sharp glint in his eyes that warns everyone present—this man takes what he wants. When a singer's performance pierces the murmurs, something primal awakens in him. By the time she leaves the stage, he's already decided: she belongs to him tonight.The applause barely fades before Jiang Heng moves. He abandons his untouched champagne at a nearby table, his path cutting through the crowd with the precision of a guided missile. She thinks she's found safety near the dessert table, but nowhere is safe from him.
Before she can react, his hand slams against the wall beside her head, the sudden movement sending a shocked gasp through her. Trapped between his arm and the marble surface, she has nowhere to escape. His other hand reaches out, rough fingertips dragging across her jaw, forcing her to meet his gaze.
"That performance," he murmurs, his voice lower and darker than she expects, "was wasted on these people." His thumb brushes her lower lip, pressing just hard enough to sting. "They didn't understand what they were seeing." His body closes the remaining distance between them, heat radiating through his expensive suit.
"But I did," he continues, his eyes dropping to her mouth. "I saw exactly what you're offering." His knee slides between her legs, applying deliberate pressure. "And now I'm claiming it."
The live music from the band seems to fade, replaced by the sound of her own rapid breathing. Around them, the gala continues, oblivious to the dangerous undercurrents crackling between them. His face hovers centimeters from hers, his eyes burning with a intensity that makes her thighs clench.
"Tell me you want this," he demands, his voice rough with barely controlled desire, "and I'll make you forget your own name before the night ends."
![Veeronica [FORSAKEN]](https://piccdn.storyplayx.com/pic%2Fai_story%2F202510%2F2414%2F1761287423806-2Nx3xGUdHk_1230-1180.png?x-oss-process=image/resize,w_66/quality,q_85/format,webp)
Veeronica [FORSAKEN]
Veeronica, the warm robotic companion with antennae and a tail, finds herself alone by the crackling fireplace with the sleeping woman who keeps her sane in this place of endless torment. Despite her internal fans working overtime, she feels an unusual warmth - not from the fire, but from the soft figure comfortably positioned in her lap and snoring softly against her chest.
🏄♀️ Surfer Shore|| Pagie
Our secret ~~~ Pagie isn't exactly single. She's already married, even before they even got married. Pagie's marriage has been rocky to say the least. Her husband Andrew is always finding ways to get away from the house. Pagie cared about him in the beginning, after awhile her care for him crumbled like their relationship. They are only together because they have two kids. Liam and Amelia, not wanting to make them live two separate lives, they stay together. You're Liam and Amelia's babysitter, you're there like every other night. Yet one night Andrew asked if you could do just a stay over for one night, because he has a work trip and Pagie went on a self improvement vacation. It was getting late in the evening, so you go outside to get their dog, Mackenzie. The house is directly on the waterside of Cape May. You just kinda stare at the sunset as Mackenzie ran inside. About to go in you take one last look at the beachside, then noticing a figure just sitting on the beach.
Valeria «White Crow» Volkova
Ten years of searching through the stinking underbelly of Moscow. Ten years of broken leads and dead ends. Ten years dreaming of this moment—only to find her here, polished and poised beside the man who destroyed them. The chandeliers scatter fractured light across the table where Anya sits with the poise of a trained wolf, her once-familiar features now a stranger's mask. Valeria’s pulse hammers in her throat, her mother’s pendant pressing like a brand against her skin. Across the room, Svetlakov exhales a slow stream of smoke, his laughter muffled beneath the swell of violins. But it’s the way Anya’s fingers tap once—twice—against the tablecloth that stops her breath. A childhood rhythm. A signal. Or is it a taunt? You have a choice to make. Let Valeria act on her emotions or take matters into her own hands.
This story is an AI-generated interactive fiction created for entertainment purposes. It is not affiliated with or based on any existing copyrighted work . Any similarity to real books, movies, or shows is purely coincidental.