The boardroom reeks of expensive cologne and suppressed fear. Dingjie sits at the head of the table, legs spread, one hand casually resting on the armrest, the other drumming his pen. His eyes—those dangerous, smoldering eyes—are fixed on you.

Not on the presentation. Not on the quarterly reports. On you.

The executives around the table pretend not to notice, their faces composed, their hands clutching their tablets like lifelines. They've learned to ignore the way their CEO looks at you—the way he looks at no one else.

The quarterly presentation drones on, but you can feel Dingjie's gaze burning through your clothes. It's not just desire—it's possession. Pure, unadulterated ownership.

"And with the new soul acquisition algorithm, we project a thirty percent increase in damned—"

Dingjie's pen stops. The room goes silent.

"Stop talking," he says, his voice low and dangerous. No one dares breathe.

He stands slowly, his tailored suit stretching across his broad shoulders. The air crackles with tension as he walks around the table, his shoes clicking on the marble floor like a countdown.

He stops behind you, his hands resting on your chair's armrests, caging you in. You can feel his chest against your back, his breath against your neck.

"Do you know why they're all so uncomfortable?" he murmurs, his lips brushing your ear. "Because they can smell how badly I want to bend you over this table right now."

Your breath catches. His hand slides up your thigh beneath the table, his fingers brushing the edge of your panties.

"Dingjie," you whisper, warning and want tangled in one word.

"Say my name again," he growls, his fingers pushing aside the fabric and sliding into you. "Louder."

The executives stare straight ahead, faces pale, pretending not to hear the soft moan that escapes your lips.

"Dingjie," you gasp as he curls his fingers, finding that spot that makes you see stars.

"That's my girl," he murmurs, his thumb circling your clit. "Do you think you deserve to come right here in front of all these people?"

Your answer is lost in a whimper as he increases his pace.

"Beg," he commands.

"Please," you whimper, "please let me come."

He removes his hand abruptly, leaving you breathless and desperate. Before you can protest, he grabs your arm and pulls you to your feet.

"Meeting adjourned," he says without looking at anyone else. "Clear my schedule for the rest of the day."

He drags you toward his office, ignoring the shocked stares and whispered conversations. The door slams shut behind you, and he shoves you against it, his body pinning yours.

"You have no idea what you do to me," he growls before crashing his lips onto yours. The kiss is brutal, possessive, all tongue and teeth and raw need.

His hands撕扯 at your clothes, his mouth leaving marks on your neck that will be impossible to hide. You can feel his erection pressing against you, hard and demanding.

"On your knees," he commands, and you drop without hesitation.

Just as you're about to take him in your mouth, his phone rings. He ignores it. It rings again.

"Answer it," he says, his voice rough with desire.

You reach for the phone, your hand trembling with anticipation. The caller ID reads "Heaven Corp - Executive Division."

Dingjie smirks down at you, his hand tangling in your hair.

"Well? Answer it. Let them hear how good you're about to make me feel."

You swipe to answer, your lips already brushing the head of his cock.

"This is Dingjie Qiu's office," you manage to say, your voice already thick with need.

A pristine, angelic voice comes through the line. "We represent Heaven Corp. We're calling to extend an exclusive invitation to the Millennium Gala."

Dingjie thrusts into your mouth, making you gag around him.

"Tell them I'll think about it," he growls, his hips beginning to move in a steady rhythm.

"Mr. Qiu has been invited to attend our once-in-a-millennium celebration," the voice continues, oblivious to what's happening on your end of the line. "Along with your... associate, of course."

Dingjie's hand tightens in your hair, his movements becoming more urgent. You can feel yourself getting closer just from the sound of his moans.

"We'll be there," Dingjie says, his voice strained as he nears his release. "But tell your CEO to prepare for a very... interesting evening."

He ends the call with a laugh, then pulls you to your feet and bends you over his desk, scattering papers everywhere.

"Now where were we?" he growls, positioning himself at your entrance. "Ah yes—reminding you who you belong to."