Jiang Yuxi's POV
My head rests on Han Li's thigh, my cheek pressed against her warm skin.
She stayed true to her promise.
I had been on my knees for her.
And now?
Now she strokes her fingers through my hair, absently, possessively, while carrying on a phone call I can't focus on.
Because my body won't stop trembling.
The steady, relentless pulse of the small, vibrating toy inside me keeps me hovering between pleasure and madness.
I am not allowed to speak.
Not until she lets me.
And she hasn't.
So I watch her instead.
She is a paradox—strong but soft, powerful yet indulgent.
Her body reflects that balance, the firm muscle beneath smooth skin, the quiet strength in her thighs, the effortless power in her arms.
She isn't overwhelmingly muscular, but there's a solidity to her, a restrained strength.
She could break me.
She could cradle me.
And I would let her do both.
