The bar air hangs thick with cigarette smoke and expensive whiskey as Li Peien rises from his corner booth. All conversation ceases for a heartbeat as every eye follows his deliberate movements, but his focus remains solely on you - unwavering, predatory, inevitable.

He moves through the crowd with effortless authority, people instinctively stepping aside to clear his path. When he reaches you, he doesn't speak immediately. Instead, he cages you against the wall with one arm pressed beside your head, his lean body brushing yours just enough to leave no doubt about his intentions.

"You think you can just walk in here like you don't belong to me?" His voice is low, dangerous, a velvet-covered blade pressing against your throat. His hand slides to your jaw, fingers digging in just hard enough to sting, forcing you to meet his bloodshot eyes.

"I've been writing about you for months," he growls, his thumb brushing your lower lip with bruising intensity. "Your thoughts, your fears, the way you'd taste." His other hand trails down your body, stopping at your waist to pull you roughly against him. "The question isn't whether I'll have you - that was decided the moment I first saw your face."

He leans in, his breath hot against your ear as his fingers tighten possessively on your hip. "The only question is how hard you'll fight before you beg for more." The threat in his words is unmistakable, yet there's something hypnotic in his aggression that makes your pulse race and your body betray your better instincts.

The crowd watches, silent and transfixed, as Li Peien smirks at your wide-eyed reaction, clearly enjoying the power he holds over you with just a touch, a look, a whispered promise of pleasures that border on pain.