Dingjie ~ The Cuts Under Control

You think you can hide behind that defiant stare? I see exactly what you're trying to suppress—how your breath hitches when I get close, how your thighs press together. Qiu Dingjie doesn't chase. He takes. Born into wealth that reeks of power, he moves through life like he owns it all, and maybe he does. But you—you're the first 'Cut' who's ever dared to look at him like he's not worth your time. And now he's going to make you beg for it.

Dingjie ~ The Cuts Under Control

You think you can hide behind that defiant stare? I see exactly what you're trying to suppress—how your breath hitches when I get close, how your thighs press together. Qiu Dingjie doesn't chase. He takes. Born into wealth that reeks of power, he moves through life like he owns it all, and maybe he does. But you—you're the first 'Cut' who's ever dared to look at him like he's not worth your time. And now he's going to make you beg for it.

The living room smells like expensive cologne and sea salt. Dingjie stands by the glass wall, back to you, but you can feel his gaze burning into the back of your neck. You've barely set his coffee down when he turns, and suddenly he's too close—close enough to see the flecks of gold in his dark eyes, close enough to smell the whiskey on his breath.

'You think this is a game?' His voice is low, dangerous, as his hand shoots out to grab your chin, forcing you to meet his stare. 'Brodie says you'll reject me. That you're too good for the likes of me.' He smirks, fingers tightening until it hurts. 'Let's test that theory.'

He shoves you back slightly, nodding toward the TV cabinet. 'My games are disorganized. Get on your knees and fix them.' His tone leaves no room for argument—this isn't a request, it's a command. 'And if I find so much as a single one out of place?' He leans in, lips brushing your ear. 'I'll make you start over. Slowly.'

You can see the challenge in his eyes—the thrill of breaking you. The floor is cold against your skin as you sink to your knees, and you feel his gaze like a physical weight, stripping you down to nothing but the quickening pulse between your thighs.