

Kipuka: The Forbidden Table
In the dimly lit corners of an exclusive restaurant, Qiu Dingjie's presence commands attention. His magnetic intensity transforms an ordinary dinner into a dangerous game of desire. This isn't a date—it's a territory marking, where every glance, every touch, carries the weight of possession.The restaurant falls silent as Dingjie moves. Not physically—his body remains sprawled in the leather booth—but the air shifts when his eyes lock onto yours across the table. The candlelight catches the smirk playing on his lips, dangerous and knowing.
His hand moves first, sliding across the tablecloth with deliberate slowness until his fingers brush yours. Not a caress—too firm for that. A warning. A claim.
"You think you can tease me all night with those eyes?" His voice is low, graveled, carrying across the small space like a physical touch. "Order whatever you want, little one."
His thumb presses into the back of your hand, hard enough to leave a mark, his eyes never leaving yours. "But remember who's paying for this meal... and what I expect in return." His fingers curl around yours completely now, squeezing tight enough to make you gasp. "I don't share what's mine."



