Shan took slow, deliberate steps toward Ingrid, his gaze locked onto hers. The panic in her eyes hadn't fully settled, but something else flickered beneath the surface—anger, defiance… maybe even anticipation.
Without breaking eye contact, he reached out and gently took the gun from her trembling hands. She didn't resist. She couldn't.
A smirk played on his lips as he leaned in, close enough that she could feel his breath against her skin.
"You're so desperate to be in control," he murmured, his voice laced with amusement. "But look at you now."
His hand trailed down her body—slow, calculated, deliberate.
Then, without hesitation, he slipped his fingers between her thighs, teasing her over the fabric before sliding beneath.
Ingrid sucked in a sharp breath.
Slow. Measured. Calculated.
Shan's touch wasn't rushed—it was precise, like he was studying every reaction, every tiny movement.
"See?" he whispered, his lips grazing her ear. "Even now, you still respond to me."
Her body betrayed her, the involuntary shudder giving her away. But her pride refused to yield.
"Screw you," she hissed, her voice shaking—whether from frustration or something else, she wasn't sure.
Shan chuckled, pressing a little deeper, watching her struggle between control and surrender.
"You already did," he said, amusement dripping from his tone. "And you will again."
Ingrid's nails dug into his shirt, whether to push him away or pull him closer, even she didn't know anymore.
And Shan?
He was enjoying every second of it.
As Shan placed Ingrid onto the bed, his movements slow yet firm, she barely had time to react before he peeled off his shirt.
Her breath hitched.
Under the dim hotel lights, his body was on full display—broad shoulders, sculpted chest, well-defined abs. Every muscle was taut, as if carved from stone, yet moved fluidly like someone in complete control of his strength.
This wasn't just an attractive body.
This was a body built for power.
For a moment, Ingrid found herself staring.
How the hell does a man like him—someone who works a corporate job from morning till evening—look like this?
She had seen him in the office every day, handling reports, attending meetings, making calls. There was barely any time to breathe in that place, let alone spend hours in the gym.
Yet, here he was—not just fit, but a finely tuned machine.
Shan caught the look in her eyes and smirked, flexing slightly, almost as if to tease her.
"Surprised?" he asked, amusement laced in his tone.
Ingrid quickly masked her reaction, scoffing. "Tch. I just didn't expect someone like you to be this… built."
Shan chuckled, undoing the rest of his clothes with ease. "Let's just say, I make time for what's important."
He leaned in, his fingers brushing against her skin. "And right now, you're the most important thing in this room."
Ingrid swallowed hard, her mind torn between curiosity, intrigue… and the undeniable heat pooling between them.
Shan's lips latched onto Ingrid's breast, his tongue flicking over the sensitive skin before he sucked—slow, deep, relentless.
"Slurp… mmhh… hah… slurp…"
The wet sounds filled the dimly lit room, mingling with Ingrid's sharp breaths.
Her back arched slightly, but she bit down on her lip, desperate to suppress the moans threatening to escape.
Why?
Why was her body responding like this?
Her mind raced, drowning in confusion.
"My ex-boyfriend… my ex-husband… even my boss before I met the chairman…
I felt nothing from them."
They had touched her, held her, kissed her. Yet, not once had she felt this intensity, this fire.
Shan lifted his head, his mouth glistening from where he had tasted her. He met her gaze—a smirk pulling at his lips, dark and knowing.
"You look like you just had an epiphany." His voice was low, teasing, laced with a dangerous edge.
Before she could respond, he shifted her effortlessly, positioning her in a suspended congress pose.
A gasp escaped her lips as he spread her thighs wider, holding her up with nothing but sheer strength.
Then—he entered her.
Deep. Precise. Merciless.
Ingrid's head snapped back as pleasure surged through her, her body betraying every ounce of resistance she had left.
"Hah—!"
Shan chuckled darkly, his pace unwavering as he hit every sweet spot with unerring accuracy.
"See?" he whispered against her ear. "You can pretend all you want. But your body knows the truth."
And the truth was…
She had never felt anything like this before.
Shan's movements didn't slow. If anything, he became more deliberate, more calculated.
His sharp eyes caught it—the slight curl at the corner of Ingrid's lips. A smile.
Small. Faint. But undeniable.
"Heh." His low chuckle sent shivers down her spine. "What's this? Are you actually enjoying yourself?"
Ingrid's eyes snapped open, her breath hitching. "Shut up."
But her body betrayed her. The heat pooling deep inside. The way her hips moved ever so slightly to match his rhythm. The way her breath came out in soft, desperate gasps.
And in her mind, the thought slipped through before she could stop it:
"But this beast… this pervert of a man… he's…"
"Different."
"Hah… hah… hnn… ngh…."
A moan slipped past her lips before she could bite it back.
Shan's smirk widened. "Ah… so you do like it."
His grip on her tightened, and without warning, he drove deeper, harder—hitting exactly where he knew she couldn't resist.
Ingrid gasped, fingers gripping his arms as her body trembled.
"You can lie to yourself all you want, Ingrid." Shan leaned in, his breath hot against her ear. "But your body will always tell the truth."
And the truth was…
She wanted more.
"Heh. You get wet so easily, Ingrid."
Shan's voice was laced with amusement as he shifted her beneath him, effortlessly transitioning into a missionary position. His hands pinned her wrists down, his body pressing firmly against hers.
"Funny, though," he continued, his tone dark, teasing. "Here you are, suffering… while Rae Yoorin isn't."
At the mention of her name, Ingrid's eyes flickered with something—anger? Confusion? A mix of both.
Shan chuckled, but there was an edge to it. A bitterness.
"Everyone calls me a pervert," he muttered, his pace quickening—harder, rougher, deeper. "All because of that shitbag of a knife board… Rae Yoorin."
His grip tightened, frustration lacing his movements as he drove into her with an unrelenting force.
Ingrid gasped, her fingers curling against the sheets, her mind clouded by both the intensity of his anger and the overwhelming pleasure surging through her.
She wanted to speak—to say something, anything.
But the way he moved, the way he owned every inch of her body, made it impossible to focus on anything else.
Shan's jaw clenched as he leaned down, his lips grazing her ear.
"What if she finds out about us?" His voice was deep, teasing, yet edged with something darker. "Are you fine with that, Ingrid?"
Ingrid's fingers gripped the sheets, her body trembling beneath him.
"No… I'm not." Her voice was barely a whisper.
A smirk tugged at Shan's lips. "Good."
His grip on her thighs tightened as his pace grew faster, rougher, more merciless.
"Those bitches will get what's coming to them."
His words dripped with vengeance as his body tensed, nearing the edge.
"Hnn… hah… hah… hng… I… want… ngh… I… want you… to punish them…."
Ingrid's moans spilled out between broken words, her nails digging into his back.
"Good, you'll help me with it, then?"
"Hah..hah..nngh..y..yess...I will ."
Shan shifted, his strong arms lifting Ingrid effortlessly as he sat on the edge of the bed, his legs spread, his posture dominant.
Ingrid straddled him, her thighs trembling as she sank down onto him, her breath hitching at the sensation.
Her fingers pressed against his chest, her body betraying her—responding not with fear, but with pure, unfiltered satisfaction.
Shan's lips curled into a knowing smirk.
"Heh… look at you." His hands traced down her spine, gripping her waist. "You look more like you're getting a reward… rather than a punishment."
His voice was deep, teasing, laced with dark amusement.
With a final, relentless thrust, Shan groaned, his grip tightening on Ingrid's waist as he spilled deep inside her.
Ingrid's entire body tensed, her nails raking down his back as a shuddering scream of ecstasy escaped her lips. The overwhelming pleasure consumed her—raw, uncontrollable, undeniable.
As the waves of their shared release faded, their breaths remained heavy, their bodies drenched in heat and exhaustion.
Slowly, Ingrid collapsed against Shan's chest, her heartbeat racing against his. His firm, muscular body felt like an unshakable pillar beneath her—solid, strong, inescapable.
For a moment, there were no words.
Just the sound of ragged breathing, the faint hum of the city outside, and the lingering heat between them.
A Few Hours Later – Ingrid's Apartment
In the quiet apartment, Kim Yeon Mikage sat at the dining table, her eyes flickering with both curiosity and mischief as she listened to her tutor, Bae Sik Gong, explain an advanced math equation.
"And that's how you multiply X with Y using a calibration of 20," Bae Sik Gong concluded, tapping his pen against the notebook.
Kim Yeon leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. "Nee, Mr. Gong… tell me about your first lover."
Bae Sik Gong raised an eyebrow at her sudden shift in topic. "Why?" he questioned, noting the teasing, almost playful lilt in her voice.
Kim Yeon pouted, her lips curling into a soft, mischievous smile. "Come on~ please?" she pleaded, dragging out her words dramatically.
Bae Sik Gong sighed, shaking his head with mild amusement. "Fine, but first—let me take a leak."
He stood up, stretching slightly before heading toward the bathroom.
As he walked away, he heard a small, unsatisfied huff from Kim Yeon behind him.
"Hmph…."
He paused briefly, glancing over his shoulder. "What's with her?" he wondered, but dismissed it for now as he continued toward the restroom.
As Bae Sik Gong wandered through the apartment in search of the bathroom, his eyes caught sight of Ingrid's bedroom door—left slightly ajar.
Curiosity tugged at him.
For a moment, he hesitated. Should he?
But the urge to peek inside just once was too strong.
Slowly, he stepped in.
The room was dimly lit, a faint scent of expensive perfume and something more… intimate lingering in the air.
And then, on the floor near the bed—a black string thong.
Bae Sik Gong's breath hitched.
His gaze lingered on the delicate piece of lingerie, his mind unintentionally drifting to thoughts he probably shouldn't be having.
"Why is this here?" His fingers twitched, resisting the strange temptation to pick it up as he did.
And then, a beep noise came from the entrance door.
Bae Sik Gong froze.
Bae Sik Gong's heart pounded violently in his chest.
He barely had time to process his thoughts before he heard the distinct sound of heels clicking against the floor.
Ingrid was home.
And she was heading straight for her room.
His mind raced. What the hell was he supposed to do?
If she found him here alone, in her room, standing near her lingerie there was no way he could explain it without looking like a complete pervert.
Think!
His eyes darted around, looking for an escape, an excuse—anything.
And then—the doorknob turned.
He quickly hide the black thong in his pocket completely before Ingrid stepped in.
The door creaked open wider.
Ingrid stepped inside.
Their eyes met.
A moment of complete, shocking silence.
Bae Sik Gong swallowed hard. "This… was bad." He thought in his mind.
Ingrid's sharp gaze flickered between him. Her expression was unreadable—somewhere between suspicion and cold amusement.
"Care to explain what you're doing in my bedroom, Mr. Gong?"
Her voice was calm, but there was an unmistakable edge to it.
There was no easy way out of this.