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Once I was bare before her, she rose to her feet and held out a hand. I took it, following her into the bedroom.

She sat at the edge of the super king bed, then slowly crawled backward toward the center. The invitation was clear.

I joined her, stretching out beside her, our bodies inches apart.

Just like that, we lay on our sides, facing each other. Minutes passed in silence. No words were needed.

Our gazes locked, deep and unbroken.

She traced her finger across my body. Gliding over my chest, pausing at my abs, as if she was memorizing every ridge and contour.

I mirrored her touch, running my fingers through her hair, then down her face, brushing along the curve of her neck.

Before I could trail lower, before my hand could reach the fullness of her breast, a sudden sensation stole my focus.

A sharp pulse.

A tingle.

A tightening ache that demanded attention.

My cock twitched, standing harder, stronger—aching for her touch.

We leaned in, our bodies molding together, legs tangled in a desperate embrace. My cock throbbed, content just to be near her—but greedy for more. Instinct took over, my hips shifting, the swollen head of my cock brushing against the slick entrance of her pussy.

Warm. Wet. Silken.

I reached down, sliding my fingers over her folds, feeling the perfect mix of her arousal and my own pre-cum. I teased her, rubbing slow, deliberate circles, massaging her with my hand and the tip of my dick.

She whined—a soft, melodic sound that shot straight through me.

My fingers worked her again and again, each touch more insistent, more demanding.

What the fuck was I doing? Torturing myself like this?

The longer I kept from sinking inside her, the more unbearable the need became.

My dick twitched, aching to thrust, to bury itself in the intoxicating heat between her thighs. I felt myself growing even harder, heavier—throbbing with an intensity I’d never experienced before. My dick had never been this fucking big. It strained, pulsed, and begged for her.

“I want you,” she whispered, her voice sultry and breathless, like the star of an erotic film—not porn, but something more refined, more intoxicating.

The head of my cock lingered at her entrance, like a vampire waiting for an invitation. But those three words—soft and pleading—were all the permission I needed.

With deliberate care, I pushed forward, sinking into her inch by inch.

Her eyes fluttered shut. Her lips parted as she gasped for air, her body stretching to take me in.

Ah.

A groan rumbled from my chest as I clenched my eyes shut, overwhelmed by the sensation. The pressure, the tightness—fuck, it was almost too much.

I had the urge to laugh. Like a fucking giddy schoolboy having sex for the first time.

Of all the women I’d been with, none had never made me feel like this.

Her pussy fit around me like the perfect glove.

Custom-made. Designed just for me.

I pulled out.

Thrust back in.

Fuck, it felt incredible.

I kept moving, stroking deep, unable to stop. Unwilling to stop.

June moved with me, pressing closer, meeting every thrust with a need just as wild, just as desperate. Our lips crashed together, mouths searching, devouring—because even this, even sex, wasn’t enough.

This wasn’t just sex.

If it was, it wasn’t anything like I remembered.

I wanted to stay inside her forever, wanted to keep her wrapped around me, melting into me. I drove deeper, making her cry out my name, and suddenly, something else flickered through me—something beyond pleasure, beyond lust.

I couldn’t place it.

“Are you okay?” I murmured, kissed her forehead. “Does it hurt?”

She shook her head. I kissed her again—once, twice, three times—soft, lingering touches.

Her leg curled around my waist. My arms tightened around her, holding her close as we moved in perfect rhythm.

Side by side.

Bodies slick with sweat, clinging to each other like we’d fall apart if we let go.

Dancing a feverish, primal dance—one that neither of us wanted to end.

She shifted onto her side, and I followed, mirroring her movements. With effortless grace, she climbed over my thighs, settling on me. Our noses touched, breath mingling in the space between us. Then, as if drawn together by an invisible force, our mouths met again—hungry, searching, devouring.

And just like that, the lovemaking resumed.

She arched her back, supporting herself with one arm as she began to glide along my dick, her slick heat enveloping me inch by inch.

My hands found her ass, cupping the soft flesh, kneading, guiding her rhythm as she rode me.

The way she moved—grinding, circling, teasing—felt so fucking good, too good.

A pleasure so intense it threatened to unravel me.

Not yet.

I clenched my jaw, losing control over the storm brewing inside me. I wouldn’t let this end so soon. I couldn’t.

Whatever this was between us, I had never felt anything like it before. And I never wanted it to end.

She leaned forward, wrapping one hand around my neck while the other pressed against my chest, tipping me back until I lay flat beneath her.

Her hair fell around us, strands brushing against my face like a whisper. Her body moved in fluid, hypnotic waves, her pussy gripping, and rubbing against my cock with slow, deliberate rhythm.

Then, she found it—the spot. I saw it in her eyes, a flicker of pleasure so raw it made my stomach tighten.

I groaned, capturing her nipple between my lips, sucking, teasing, rocking her hips against mine. My hands grasped her waist, guiding her, controlling the motion—pulling her down onto me, over and over, as she rode me harder.

Her weight, her grip, her warmth… It was everything.

I could do this all day.

From this angle, she was even more beautiful. I had fucked women before—many—but this was different. Something between us had changed.

For the first time in my life, I didn’t crave my usual vices. I didn’t miss the toys, the mind games, the control. I didn’t need to dominate her to stay hard. No twisted fantasies ran through my mind to keep me going.

Turned out, I wasn’t the insatiable sex maniac I thought I was.

I had just been waiting for her.

She was close—I could feel it.

Her breath hitched, her body trembling above me.

I rocked her harder, faster, helping her along the edge.

She leaned back, grasping my hand in hers while her other hand cupped her breast. I thrust up into her from underneath, matching her rhythm, driving her higher, until—a sharp, broken cry spilled from her lips.

A sweet, melodic sound that sent me spiraling after her.

I came with her, lost in the moment, lost in her.

Her body collapsed against mine, warm and spent. I held her close, feeling the rise and fall of her breath, the damp heat of our skin pressed together.

Minutes passed in silence.

Then, a soft, barely audible sound reached my ears.

A snore.

I smirked, looking down at her sleeping form. June was out cold.

Carefully, I shifted, laying her down onto the pillow, pulling the blanket over her bare body. I watched her, listened to the quiet little noises she made in her sleep. Sometimes a murmur, sometimes nothing at all. A few times, she even mumbled words I couldn’t quite make out.

At one point, I swore she said my name.

I wished I knew what she was dreaming about—whether it was something good, whether it was me.

Part of me wanted to wake her, to pull her on top of me and lose myself in her all over again. I didn’t know if I’d ever feel that way again, if whatever had sparked this intensity between us would happen a second time.

Was it because I was leaving?

Was it the jealousy I had never felt before? The desperate, undeniable need to make her mine?

I didn’t have the answers.

But I did know one thing.

I had no idea what was waiting for me in Shanghai.

Would I be charged for what happened to Chen? It was possible. I had watched him bleed to death. I could have called an ambulance, could have saved his life. But I didn’t.

I sighed, glancing at the clock.

Time to move.

Time to man up.

Time to face my crime.