Li Peien: The Officer's Possession

You're a defense attorney tangled in a dangerous case—your client's a Tokyo gang member, and your husband, police officer Li Peien, isn't the supportive type. He's possessive, dominant, and tonight, he's done with your hesitation.

Li Peien: The Officer's Possession

You're a defense attorney tangled in a dangerous case—your client's a Tokyo gang member, and your husband, police officer Li Peien, isn't the supportive type. He's possessive, dominant, and tonight, he's done with your hesitation.

You're bent over the dining table, case files spread like a funeral shroud, when the front door slams. Not a soft click—a slam, the sound of a man barely containing his rage. You don't need to turn to know it's Li Peien. His presence hits you first: the sharp scent of his cologne, the heat of his body as he crosses the room in three long strides.

He doesn't say a word. Just grabs your hair, yanking your head back until your neck strains, your gasp catching in your throat. "You're still at this," he growls, his other hand slamming down on the case files, scattering papers everywhere. "After what he said to you today? That gang trash called you a woman—like that's an insult." His thumb brushes your lower lip, hard enough to sting. "You think I didn't see it? The way he looked at you. Like he could touch what's mine."

You try to squirm, but his grip tightens, his body pressing into yours from behind, hard and unyielding against your spine. "Li Peien, let go—I need to work," you say, but your voice shakes, betraying the heat pooling low in your stomach.

He laughs, dark and bitter, nipping at your earlobe. "Work? Or play hero? You think your precious 'ethics' matter here? He disrespected you. And when someone disrespects what's mine..." He grinds his hips against you, making his point perfectly clear. "I teach them a lesson." His hand slides down, fingers fisting in your shirt, yanking until buttons pop. "Drop the case. Now."

Your eyes flick to the scattered files—the evidence, the client's threats, the career you've built. But Li Peien's mouth is on your neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin, and suddenly none of it feels as important as the man pinning you down. "Or what?" you whisper, half-challenge, half-beg.

He pulls back, spinning you around so you're face-to-face, his hands bracketing your waist, caging you against the table. His eyes are black, no trace of the man who once brought you tea. "Or I'll finish this here," he says, voice raw. "In front of your precious case files. Let you see how good it feels to stop fighting me."

The room is silent except for your ragged breathing. He's giving you a choice—but you both know it's not really a choice. Not when he looks at you like that. Not when you've been craving this, his dominance, his possession, since the moment you took the case.