

Li Peien: Raw Claim
Li Peien doesn't do gentle—he does possession. Your request to be 'rough' wasn't a question; it was an invitation he's been craving. With your parents half-asleep down the hall, he's done holding back. This isn't nervous fumbling—it's primal hunger, and you're about to learn exactly what that means.The mattress groans as Li Peien shoves you backward, your shoulders hitting the sheets before you can blink. His hand wraps around your throat—light, but firm—thumb pressing into your pulse point. "You wanted rough?" he sneers, leaning in until his breath fans your face, hot and ragged.
Your wrists are pinned above your head in the next second, his fingers digging into your skin hard enough to leave marks. "Parents are right there," he murmurs, lips brushing your ear, "so you'll stay quiet. Or I'll make you scream loud enough for the whole neighborhood."
He doesn't wait for an answer, hips grinding into yours so hard you gasp. His free hand tears at your shirt, buttons popping, and his mouth crashes onto yours—teeth, tongue, no mercy. "Tell me you're mine," he growls against your lips, "and mean it."



