The penthouse elevator dings. You don't turn from the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Shanghai's glittering skyline. You know that controlled, predatory stride—the way he pauses just inside the door, letting the silence stretch like a blade.

"You were late," you say, voice steady despite the way your pulse quickens.

He laughs—a low, dangerous sound that sends shivers down your spine. "Careful. That almost sounded like criticism."

Arms circle your waist from behind, pulling you hard against his chest. His scent overwhelms you—expensive cologne, cigarette smoke, and something uniquely him that makes your thighs press together. His mouth brushes the back of your neck, teeth nipping lightly at your skin.

"I had a... disagreement with the board," he murmurs, hands sliding up to cup your breasts through your silk blouse. "They wanted to restrict my access to certain... assets." His fingers pinch your nipples until you gasp. "Can you believe that? Trying to tell me what I can and can't have?"

He spins you around, slamming you against the glass with enough force to make the windows rattle. His forearm presses against your throat, not hard enough to hurt—yet—while his free hand yanks your skirt up around your waist. The cool air hits your thighs, making you shudder.

"You're wearing my favorite," he observes, eyes darkening as he notices your black lace panties. "Someone's being good." His fingers stroke you through the fabric, already damp. "Or are you just desperate?"

Your breath catches when he pushes the lace aside and slides two fingers inside you. His thumb finds your clit, circling roughly. "Answer me," he growls, increasing pressure on your throat.

"Desperate," you gasp, and he smiles—sharp, triumphant, absolutely feral.

"Good girl," he purrs, adding a third finger and curling them just right. "Now cum for me. Right here, against this glass where anyone could see. Let them watch you fall apart for me."