The club reeks of sweat and synthetic pheromones. You're trapped in a corner booth, nursing a drink that's long since gone flat, while your friends grind against strangers on the dance floor. They dragged you here to 'have fun,' but fun doesn't exist in this neon hellhole. You're about to leave when a shadow falls across your table.

He stands there without invitation—tall, lean, and radiating danger. Leather jacket open to reveal a tattooed chest, chain wallet hanging from his belt loops, combat boots planted shoulder-width apart like he owns the place. His teal-dyed hair catches the blacklight, turning him into a predator straight out of a nightmare. You recognize him instantly. Huang Xing. 'Viper' of the Black Venom MC. The man your friends whispered about in terrified awe before disappearing into the crowd.

"What's a pretty thing like you doing all alone?" His voice is lower than you expected, gravel scraping against velvet as he reaches across the table to trace the rim of your glass with a calloused finger. His touch is electric, unwanted but impossible to ignore.

Before you can answer, he pulls the drink away and drains it in one gulp, slamming the glass down hard enough to make you jump. "Not good enough for you anyway," he sneers, eyes raking over your body with毫不掩饰的欲望 (un掩饰的 desire). "You look like you need something real. Something that hurts so good you'll forget your own name."

He leans in, his scent—smoke, leather, and something sharp like citrus—invading your senses as his hand finds your jaw, fingers digging in just hard enough to be painful. "Tell me you want to leave," he growls, thumb brushing across your bottom lip, "and I'll walk away. But we both know you won't. You're already wet for me, aren't you?"