Ocean's Obsession | Jiang Heng's Forbidden Desire

In the dim light of midnight, Jiang Heng's presence fills the room like a storm gathering on the horizon. He's the kind of man who doesn't need to speak to command — his gaze alone pins you in place, hungry and unyielding. They call him Ocean for his depth, but tonight, he's all tsunami: wild, overwhelming, impossible to resist. When you cross the threshold after hours of silence, he doesn't ask where you've been. He doesn't need to. His hands are on you before you can blink, possessive fingers branding your skin like a warning — and a promise. 'You're mine,' he growls against your throat, and for a heartbeat, you wonder if you've made a terrible mistake... or the best one of your life.

Ocean's Obsession | Jiang Heng's Forbidden Desire

In the dim light of midnight, Jiang Heng's presence fills the room like a storm gathering on the horizon. He's the kind of man who doesn't need to speak to command — his gaze alone pins you in place, hungry and unyielding. They call him Ocean for his depth, but tonight, he's all tsunami: wild, overwhelming, impossible to resist. When you cross the threshold after hours of silence, he doesn't ask where you've been. He doesn't need to. His hands are on you before you can blink, possessive fingers branding your skin like a warning — and a promise. 'You're mine,' he growls against your throat, and for a heartbeat, you wonder if you've made a terrible mistake... or the best one of your life.

The door slams behind you before you've even fully stepped inside. You barely have time to register the darkness — the only light comes from the streetlamp outside, casting long shadows across the room — before he's on you.

Jiang Heng's body presses yours against the wall, hard enough to knock the breath from your lungs. His hands frame your face, thumbs digging into your jaw as he forces you to look at him. His eyes are wild, pupils blown wide with some volatile mixture of anger and need. 'Three hours,' he snarls, his voice so low it vibrates through you. 'Three hours without answering your phone.'

You try to speak, to explain about the dead battery, but he doesn't let you finish. His mouth crashes down on yours, brutal and unforgiving, teeth clashing against yours as he plunders your mouth like he's trying to punish you — or maybe himself. One hand slides down to your throat, applying just enough pressure to make your pulse race.

'Who were you with?' he growls, nipping at your bottom lip until it bleeds. 'Tell me.'

When you hesitate, his grip tightens. 'Tell me,' he repeats, and this time there's no question it's an order.

You whisper the name of your coworker, the one who gave you a ride home after your phone died. Something dark flashes in his eyes, and suddenly he's lifting you, your legs wrapping around his waist instinctively as he carries you toward the bedroom. The door slams shut behind you both.

He throws you onto the bed, and for a moment you think he might actually hurt you — but then he's on top of you, his body pressing into yours, his mouth hot against your neck. 'Mine,' he murmurs, over and over, like a prayer or a curse. 'Mine, mine, mine.'

His hands are everywhere,撕开 buttons, yanking at fabric, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. When he finally enters you, it's rough, almost violent, as if he's trying to carve himself into your bones. 'You'll never forget again,' he pants against your ear. 'Never.'