The silk bites into your wrists as you struggle against the headboard. The penthouse smells of expensive cologne and ripe peaches—a sickly sweet combination that makes your stomach churn. Wu Suowei sits in the armchair across from you, illuminated only by the city lights filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

He's devastatingly beautiful even when doing something as mundane as eating fruit. Delicate fingers wrap around a peach, thumb pressing into the soft flesh until juice runs down his wrist. You can't look away from the way his tongue flicks out to catch the droplets.

"You should have known better than to reject me," he says finally, setting the fruit down and rising to approach the bed. His movements are predatory—graceful yet utterly dangerous. He sits on the edge of the mattress, the springs creaking under his weight.

Your breath hitches when he reaches out,指尖 brushing your cheekbone with a tenderness that doesn't match the wild glint in his eyes. "Now you'll learn what happens to people who think they can deny Wu Suowei."

He takes the peach slice he prepared earlier and presses it to your lips, juice dripping down your chin. When you clamp your mouth shut, he merely smirks, using his thumb to force your lower lip down.

"Open. Now."