"Fuck me, Jungkook. Please. Now."

In seconds, my clothes were in a pile on the grass beside hers. I knelt between her legs, stroking my cock in long, rough moves just to keep from losing my shit too soon.

"Say it again."

"Fuck me right now, Jungkook. Oh!"

Her head fell back and her eyes fluttered shut as I pushed into her in one deep, brutal thrust. Her hot, pulsing pussy welcomed me like it had been made for this moment—tight, soaked, and clenching so hard I thought I might come from the first stroke.

"You feel so fucking good," I growled, nearly feral. Her walls fluttered around me, that delicious tension building fast—her third orgasm ready to crash. "So tight and wet for me."

My hips snapped forward harder, deeper, pounding into that spot that made her lose language altogether. All I could hear was her body—every moan, every slap of skin, every cry as her hands clutched at my chest, nails dragging, marking me.

The heels of her feet dug into my lower back. She rose to meet each stroke with her own fierce rhythm—fast, wild, desperate. We weren't making love. We were devouring each other.

"Jungkook," she moaned, head thrashing back and forth like she couldn't contain it. Like she couldn't hold anything in.

I groaned and leaned down, capturing one of her gorgeous tits in my hand, squeezing it roughly, then moving to the other, teasing both with my tongue and teeth between thrusts. The lounger beneath us creaked and screamed under our weight, but I didn't stop. I couldn't.

"I can feel how close you are, Y/N. Your pussy's soaked."

"Yeah?" she panted, voice rough with lust. "What are you gonna do about it?"

I grinned at that—this playful side of her that I fucking missed. "Not much," I grunted. "Just make you come all over my cock."

I pulled back slow, then slammed into her, hard and deep. Her body arched off the lounger, a moan ripping from her throat.

"Close," she whimpered.

"Even wetter now," I smiled against her skin, and did it again—slow out, brutal back in. Her breath hitched.

"Closer," she gasped, moaning and smiling at the same time like she was high on it.

I leaned in and sucked her nipple hard, biting just enough to draw a gasp, while my hand trailed down to her clit. I rubbed in tight, fast circles, my thumb relentless, matching the rhythm of my thrusts.

Her pussy clenched so hard around my cock I nearly lost control.

She cried out, and I didn't stop. I fucked her harder, sucked her nipple deeper. Her scream was almost too much to hear.

"Oh, yesyesyes! Yes!" she came again, a flood of slick heat rushing between us. I didn't stop moving—fucking through her orgasm while she writhed beneath me, trembling from the force of it.

That was it.

I snapped.

My hips pistoned into her fast and hard until I felt it—my release bursting forward, crashing through me.

"Y/N—fuck!"

My cock erupted inside her, twitching violently as wave after wave of release emptied into her. My body shook and shuddered, muscles locking as I collapsed over her, heart hammering, breath gone.

Her hands moved slowly up and down my back, soothing and soft, and my cock twitched again inside her.

"That was... I've never done that before," she admitted softly.

I chuckled against her neck and bit her earlobe gently. "I've never made anyone do that either." I pulled back and looked at her. "It was hot as fuck. And I'll remember that look for the rest of my life."

She clenched around me again and I groaned.

"Incredible," she whispered.

I rolled off her and pulled her into my arms. "Fucking amazing."

Then I stood and tugged her up with me, already imagining round two. "Let's take the next round upstairs."

But she gave me that sad, crooked smile—the one that made my chest tighten—and shook her head.

"I think we should sleep alone in our respective beds. Good night."

She stepped forward, pressed her naked body against mine, and kissed me—deep, slow, sweet—one of those kisses that clings to your skin and soul. One of those kisses that meant everything.

My cock twitched again, but she pulled back, still not turning her back to me as she walked away, disappearing into the kitchen.

I stood there, dazed, watching her vanish.

Then I looked down at the grass, our scattered clothes, the lounger tilted sideways and the smell of sex still thick in the air.

I smiled to myself as I picked up her dress.

She was right to be scared.

Because this thing between us... it wasn't just sex.

It was already something dangerous. Something sacred. Something real.
And I'd be damned if I let her walk away from it again.

Y/n pov

"Sleep well, sweet girl."

My body was stiff and aching as I bent to kiss Layla's forehead. The poor girl was dead on her feet from a long day at the water park—so beat, she'd fallen asleep before we even pulled out of the parking lot. It had been a long, fun day, but the sun had burned hot and bright, and the weight of it sat heavy in my limbs, contributing to my own exhaustion.

With Layla settled and tucked in, I made my way to my bedroom with a single plan: collapse into bed and sleep until morning.

I stepped inside the room and quietly closed the door behind me, pressing my forehead against the cool wood as I let out a deep, cleansing breath.

"Okay. Shower, then sleep."

I toed off my shoes and turned—only to freeze in the middle of the room.

A large, stunning bouquet of flowers sat there waiting for me like some kind of dream. My heart skipped a beat.

I took a hesitant step forward, eyes widening at the sight of the stargazer lilies mixed with soft posies in shades of pink and purple, vibrant bursts of yellow peeking between them. They were gorgeous—wild and sweet all at once—and I reached out, brushing the petals with trembling fingers, reverent and cautious.

They were obviously from Jungkook.

And even though my instincts screamed at me to dump them in the trash, to shut the door and shut him out completely, I couldn't do it. I just... couldn't reject something that felt so gentle. So thoughtful. So him.

My body betrayed me, humming just at the thought of last night—of Jungkook's mouth on mine, his voice thick with want, the way he had played my body like an instrument crafted just for him. His hands. His breath. The way he had talked to me—dirty and raw and aching with the same desperation I'd been trying to hide for so long.

It was more than I could take.

Because it wasn't just sex for me—not anymore.

And I had to escape. Before I did something really stupid.

Like tell him the truth—that I felt something. That this wasn't casual. That he wasn't casual.

That he had started to mean something I wasn't ready to name.

I fled the flesh-and-blood man, but he invaded my dreams and turned them into fantasies of forever.
"Flowers almost as vibrant and lively as you. Yours, Jeon Jungkook."

I held the card to my chest, a giant smile blooming across my face.

He'd given me his last name.

It wasn't everything—but it was something.
He was trying. And right now, that's what mattered.

Is he really trying, though?
The thought whispered through my head before I could shut it down. My brain just wouldn't quit—it reminded me this was only a name. A word. That Jungkook was giving me exactly what I wanted, but in such an insignificant way. Still... it was something. A gesture. A small door cracked open.

He was trying, yes—but Yujin's voice echoed in my head
Rich men are different.

And Jungkook was definitely different. Different in the way that he'd never had someone want him for him—not for his money, or the way he dressed, or the way he seemed to own every room he entered. That was sad in a way that hurt me, because he deserved more than transactional love.

So I accepted the sweet gesture for what it was.

Smiling, I slowly undressed and stepped into a hot shower, the steam curling around me as images of Jungkook crept in behind my eyes. The way he touched me. Worshipped me. Played my body like a secret instrument he'd spent years mastering.

Whatever this thing was between us—whatever it was becoming—it had the potential to be amazing.

But it could also destroy me. And I wasn't ready for that.

The truth?

I wasn't ready for Jungkook.

Most of the fathers I worked for—married or not—I simply tolerated. They were unremarkable. Background noise. I ignored the way they looked at me, their lazy comments, their constant failure to connect with their children while chasing power and paychecks. I gave their kids the love they didn't.

But Jungkook?

He shocked me.

He made me feel.

And I wasn't ready to acknowledge those feelings—not out loud. Not even in the quiet safety of my own mind. So I buried them beneath the memory of his hands and his mouth and the way he made me come apart again and again like I was made for him.

His secrets made all of that easier.

And harder.

"Ugh, now I'm getting on my own damn nerves," I muttered, stepping from the shower. I wrapped a towel around my body and began drying my hair, mind still reeling.

I wanted him.

And the flowers—and the name—meant he wanted me, too. Enough to try.

And right now...
That was enough.

I smiled to myself as I grabbed my phone.
"You deserve a reward," I whispered with a soft laugh, then tapped out a quick message

Thank you for the lovely flowers, Mr. Jeon.

He responded immediately

I'd love to hear you call me that in person.

My skin flushed at the words, a heat curling low in my belly.

If you can find me, you just might get your wish.

I laughed quietly to myself as I opened my underwear drawer, sifting through lace and silk, looking for something that would light Jungkook's fire. Nothing seemed right, so I spritzed perfume on my pulse points and wrapped myself in a fresh towel.

And then I waited for him.

Ten minutes later, there was a soft knock at the door.

I smiled.

"Come in."

The door opened—and there he was.

Jeon Jungkook.
Broad shoulders. Dark, stormy eyes. Sharp jaw. Every inch of him coiled with tension. His gaze landed on me—in nothing but a towel—and his jaw dropped slightly.

"Y/N," he said, voice husky as he rubbed a hand over his jaw.

"That's me, Mr. Jeon."

He stepped inside, quietly shutting the door behind him. Then he locked it.
His gaze never left mine.

"Take off the towel."

I flashed a teasing smile. "No."

"Y/N," he growled. My name from his lips made my knees weak.

"Make me," I whispered.

I needed to push him. To see how badly he wanted me. To feel the proof—not just in gestures or words—but in actions.
Maybe it was messed up. Maybe I was messed up. But I needed it.

Jungkook stalked toward me, a predator in perfect control. His hands moved fast—one flick of his wrist, and the towel fell to the floor in a soft heap of terrycloth.

"Much better."

His lips curved into a tortured smile, and then his eyes drank me in.
He didn't blink. Didn't move. He devoured me.

I trembled.

His chest rose and fell in heavy breaths, jaw clenched, heat radiating from his body like fire. His gaze consumed me—made me feel like I was the last thing he'd ever need to see again.

And God, I wanted to be.