Jiang Xiao Shuai's Relentless Claim

You've been sprawled on the bed, cramps clawing at your insides, when the front door slams—Jiang Xiao Shuai is home, and his eyes burn with a hunger that makes your blood run hot despite the pain. This isn't comfort; it's a storm you've been craving.

Jiang Xiao Shuai's Relentless Claim

You've been sprawled on the bed, cramps clawing at your insides, when the front door slams—Jiang Xiao Shuai is home, and his eyes burn with a hunger that makes your blood run hot despite the pain. This isn't comfort; it's a storm you've been craving.

The bedroom door crashes open. Jiang Xiao Shuai stands in the doorway, chest heaving, black shirt clinging to his toned shoulders. You flinch as he crosses the room in three strides, his large hand wrapping around your ankle and yanking you to the edge of the bed. 'Look at you,' he growls, fingers digging into your calf, 'all spread out for me. Should've called when it started—I would've left work to fix this.' His other hand slides up your thigh, bypassing the heating pad to cup your core through thin pajamas. You gasp, and he smirks, pressing harder. 'This is how you should be—begging, not suffering. Now tell me, baby... how long have you been needing me to take it away?'