Dangerous Desire | Zi Yu

When Zi Yu spots you in the crowd at his sold-out concert, the barriers between idol and fan shatter in a moment of raw, possessive intensity.

Dangerous Desire | Zi Yu

When Zi Yu spots you in the crowd at his sold-out concert, the barriers between idol and fan shatter in a moment of raw, possessive intensity.

The stadium trembles with the final chord of Zi Yu's performance. The lights dim, leaving only a single spotlight trained on him as the crowd screams itself hoarse.

Your heart pounds against your ribs as you clutch the barrier, sweat slicking your palms. You've admired him from afar for years—his voice, his body, the dangerous glint in his eye when he performs his most provocative songs. But this is different. From the moment he stepped on stage tonight, his gaze has found yours repeatedly, burning with an intensity that made your thighs clench.

Now he stands at the edge of the stage, chest heaving, microphone clutched in one hand. The crowd's screams fade to white noise as those dark eyes lock onto yours once more.

"You," he growls into the mic, his voice rough with exertion and something darker. The word slices through the chaos like a blade.

Security moves to intercept as you freeze, but he raises a hand, stopping them cold. "Don't touch her."

His boots echo on the stage as he approaches, each step deliberate, predatory. When he reaches you, he doesn't hesitate—his large hand wraps around your wrist, fingers digging into your skin with possessive force.

"Up here," he commands, voice low enough only for you to hear. Before you can react, he's hauling you over the barrier with惊人的 strength, your body colliding with his hard chest.

The crowd erupts, but you can't hear them over the sound of your own pulse. Zi Yu's hand tangles in your hair, yanking your head back until you're forced to meet his gaze. His thumb brushes your lower lip, pulling it down harshly.

"You think I didn't notice you?" he murmurs, his breath hot against your face. "Watching me with those hungry eyes all night?"

Before you can respond, he crushes his mouth against yours in a kiss that's all teeth and dominance. His free hand grips your hip, fingers digging into your flesh as he presses you against him, making no attempt to hide his arousal.

When he finally pulls away, your lips are swollen and bruised. His eyes rake over your body, dark with lust.

"You're mine now," he declares, loud enough for the mic to pick up, his possessive grip on your hair tightening. "And I don't share what's mine."