INVITATION

The deep creak of Sheesham wood echoed through the room as the headboard struck the wall, perfectly in sync with the breathless girl beneath Park Jimin. Her desperate moans filled the space, a stark contrast to the controlled intensity of his movements.

"Fuck! Harder. Fuck me harder!" she screamed, her nails biting into his skin, carving crescent-shaped reminders of her need. Her raw demands only fueled him further, pushing him to drive his hips deeper, harder, each thrust forcing a louder, more primal sound from her lips.

As the crown prince of Park Corporations, the hottest and most sought-after bachelor, Jimin took immense pride in leaving women utterly undone, their minds lost in the haze of pleasure he could so easily orchestrate. Born into the prestige of a top architectural empire, his power and influence fed his ego, and in moments like this, it was intoxicating.

"Aah! Just like that," she whispered, her voice breathless as her eyes rolled back, her body trembling with the satisfaction of being pushed to her limits.

Tiny goosebumps dotted her skin, betraying the overwhelming pleasure Jimin ignited in every inch of her. Her pale fingers tangled in her hair, a clear sign of just how deeply he affected her. She bit down on her bottom lip, savoring the tension building in her core, the tightening knot in her stomach a sweet promise of release.

"Don't hold back, love. Tell me how good I make you feel," Jimin murmured against her ear, his voice a dangerous mix of sweetness and command. His teeth grazed the tender flesh before biting down softly, eliciting a whimper from her. But then, he stalled—his thrusts slowing just enough to deny her the high she craved.

"Jimin, please!" she begged, her hips arching off the bed in search of friction, desperate for him to continue.

With a playful sniff of her hair, Jimin smiled innocently down at her. "Please what, baby?" he teased, his voice dripping with amusement.

"Don't stop, Jimin, please. I-I was so close! I want to come, pl-please. Fuck me," she nearly sobbed, her body trembling as her drenched core clenched around him, pleading for release. The tension was unbearable, her need palpable, and the way she gripped him made him hiss in satisfaction.

"You know what to do, love. Be a good girl, and you can come for Daddy." His lips grazed her ear, a wicked smirk on his face as he whispered the promise she needed to hear. Without another word, he resumed his punishing rhythm, thrusting deep and hard, pushing her back to the edge in mere moments. And this time, he wouldn't hold her back.

To deepen the depravity, Jimin's thumb slid down her flushed face, pausing at her cupid's bow before pressing firmly against her lips.

"Suck," he growled, the low rumble vibrating through his chest.

Obediently, she parted her lips, taking him in, her tongue swirling around his thumb in slow, tantalizing strokes. The heat of her mouth sent a pulse of warmth straight down to his core, a fire that burned all the way to his balls. Meanwhile, she was a wreck—her breath coming in ragged gasps as he twisted her nipples, decorating her chest with red marks that bloomed under his touch.

"Fuck! I'm going to come, Daddy. Faster!" she cried out, her voice strained with need.

But Jimin wasn't ready to let her reach that peak—not yet. He wanted more time to savor her unraveling beneath him.

"Not so soon," he grunted, his refusal met with a desperate whimper from below.

Ignoring her protest, he flipped her over with ease, pulling her hips into the air. A firm grip on her asscheeks had her crying out in a mix of pain and pleasure as he drove into her from behind, each thrust more forceful than the last. Her moans turned into shameless screams as she clawed at the sheets, pushing back against him with equal hunger.

"Oh, my God! R-right there. Fu-fuck! You’re so damn good at this. Don't you fucking stop," she panted, her body shaking with every powerful thrust. Her hands dug into the bed, and she rubbed herself against him, desperate to match his intensity.

Her brazenness irritated Jimin, prompting him to grab a fistful of her hair and yank her head back. "Don't boss me, bitch. Take what I give you," he snarled, pulling her hair into a makeshift ponytail. He leaned down, his breath hot against her ear as he growled, "Not a word from that filthy mouth now. Shut the fuck up and ride this cock like a good slut."

His arm snaked around her waist, and with a brutal snap of his hips, he buried himself deep inside her, watching with satisfaction as he disappeared into her swollen, pink heat.

The room was filled with obscene sounds—the wet slaps of their bodies colliding, her desperate whimpers, and the deep grunts that escaped Jimin's throat.

But it still wasn't enough.

Jimin's hand slid between her legs, finding the swollen nub that had been begging for attention. He rubbed her clit with ruthless precision, pushing her over the edge until she shattered beneath him, her body convulsing in the throes of a mind-numbing orgasm.

"Fuck, Jimin!" she cried, her voice muffled as she buried her face into the pillow, her whole body shaking.

Jimin followed close behind, his thrusts turning sloppy as he spilled into her with a low groan. His body trembled, his release leaving him spent. With a satisfied sigh, he collapsed beside her, their bodies sticky with sweat, both sated and utterly exhausted.

The same could be said for the girl beside him, though Jimin couldn't quite remember her name. Synthia? Nancy? It didn't matter. He was too drained to care.

Running a hand through his tousled blond hair, he decided it was more important to get rid of the condom clinging to his skin and take a much-needed shower.

Once clean and refreshed, he tied a robe around his body, feeling the cool fabric settle against his skin. The thought of aftercare never crossed his mind—it wasn't something he believed in. But as he passed the bedroom, he paused, considering asking the girl for a glass of water. She was fast asleep, sprawled out across the sheets, completely knocked out. Maybe this time, Jimin had gone too far. He prided himself on driving women wild in bed, but this one seemed to have hit her limit, her mind obliterated by the orgasm he'd given her.

Should he feel proud? Or concerned? He wasn't sure.

With a small frown, Jimin pinched his perfectly shaped brows and decided to indulge himself with something sweeter than the confusion swirling in his head—a fruitcake. The craving for it, alongside his usual cup of tea, tugged at him.

Since childhood, Jimin had always disliked traditional breakfasts. Eggs, bacon, coffee—none of it appealed to him, not even during the five long years he spent in the U.S., where he was constantly served those dishes. No, his preference had always been for the desserts his late grandfather used to make—especially fruitcake. The memories of those sweet treats, and the warmth of his grandfather's presence, still lingered.

"Hmm," Jimin hummed in satisfaction as the familiar taste filled his mouth. For a moment, everything felt right in the world. A full stomach had a way of bringing peace.

That peace was short-lived, however, as the doorbell rang three times in quick succession, jarring him from his brief respite.

Jimin sighed, setting his cup down with a clink before heading to the intercom. "Yes?" he answered, his tone slightly impatient.

"Am I speaking to Mr. Park Jimin?" came a voice, unfamiliar and cold.

"You certainly are," Jimin replied, his brow furrowing. "And who might I be speaking to?"

The stranger didn't bother answering the question. Instead, they declared, "Your father would like to see you. Kindly open the door."

Jimin's confusion deepened. Father? He hadn’t thought about the man in years. The last time they spoke, Park Seo Joon, the CEO of Park Corporations, had barely acknowledged him as his son. Jimin had long since stopped considering him a father. If Seo Joon wanted to see him, his mother surely would've mentioned something—though, even that wasn't guaranteed. His parents barely spoke to each other, let alone to him, like a normal family.

Seo Joon had always been a failure as a parent, and an even worse life partner. His absence was as glaring as his presence had been disappointing. No wonder Jimin's late grandfather had favored him less and less as time went on.

Sighing again, Jimin ran a hand through his hair. Today was about to get a lot more complicated.

"Took you long enough to open a simple door," Jimin's father remarked, his voice sharp as a blade. Standing beside him was a scrawny man who appeared to be in his thirties, though his hollow cheeks and dark circles made him look older. Jimin briefly wondered how the man kept himself so thin, but his real curiosity lay elsewhere—how had they known where to find him? He had only informed them of his return flight from the States for Monday, which was tomorrow.

The only person who knew Jimin was back in Hannam-dong was his best friend, Jung Hoseok. Yet, given Hoseok’s lifestyle and the career path he had chosen, he was hardly someone Park Seo Joon, the CEO of Park Corporations, would reach out to. His father had always viewed Hoseok as a failure, frequently belittling him in front of Hoseok's parents, warning that Hoseok was a bad influence. Seo Joon had even tried to intimidate Jimin into cutting ties with Hoseok altogether. But Jimin had never listened to his father—not then, not ever.

"My apologies, Mr. Park," Jimin said, his voice laced with false politeness. "It was terribly rude of me to keep you waiting, considering how valuable your time is." He paused, tilting his head. "What brings you here? To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Cut the act, Park Jimin. I'm not here for your theatrics."

"And I'm not here for you, Park Seo Joon," Jimin shot back, the mockery evaporating from his tone as the tension between them thickened.

"Has living in the U.S. made you forget how to speak to your father with respect?" Seo Joon's jaw tightened, his words ground out through clenched teeth.

"No," Jimin said coolly, locking eyes with his father. "But working 24/7 seems to have taught you how to forget your family."

Silence stretched between them, heavy and oppressive. Neither of them broke eye contact, the air thick with years of unresolved conflict.

Every success had its price, and Park Seo Joon had paid it with his family. He had neglected their needs, ignored their desires, and prioritized his career over every meaningful moment. Birthdays, holidays, family dinners—none of it mattered compared to the empire he was building. To him, business always came first, and the people he called family were little more than an afterthought.

Seo Joon often chose late nights at the office over dinners with his wife, Ji-ho. He rarely spent any meaningful time with her, let alone remembered special occasions like their anniversary. Diamonds, flowers, thoughtful gestures—they had long since faded from his list of priorities. It sometimes seemed like he had even forgotten their wedding date. Yet, one fateful night, after stumbling home intoxicated, Seo Joon made love to her, and in that fleeting moment, he unknowingly gave her the one thing she wanted most: a child.

Ji-ho had always believed that beneath his hardened exterior, Seo Joon had a kind heart. She clung to the hope that becoming a father might soften him, that he would step up and be the loving role model their child deserved, even if he had failed her as a husband. But when she told him she was pregnant, her hopes were shattered. Instead of celebrating, Seo Joon packed her off to Busan, to live with his parents, under the guise that their child would be better off raised by responsible grandparents.

"What about you?" Ji-ho had asked, her voice breaking as tears streamed down her face. "Don't you have any duty as a father?"

"I'm determined to build the company," Seo Joon replied coldly. "My focus is on ensuring the future for our child. That's my responsibility."

That was the last meaningful conversation they ever had.

In the months that followed, Seo Joon threw himself even deeper into his work. He didn't visit when Jimin was born, nor was he present during the early years that mattered most. His absence became a fixture in Ji-ho's life, and Seo Joon remained a ghost, appearing only when necessary, such as when his own father passed away. Even then, his visit to Busan for the funeral felt more like an obligation than genuine sorrow. His attempt to reconnect with his son was superficial at best, as though it was something he had to check off his list.

When he saw Jimin, he didn't show any of the joy or pride most fathers would feel. Instead, his response was cold and detached. Rather than embracing his son, he shipped him off to an elite foreign school, more concerned with molding an heir than raising a child.

Now, as Jimin faced his father, that same indifference lingered in the air. "I don't have time to waste on pointless arguments with you, Jimin," Seo Joon said with a weary sigh. For just a brief second, a flicker of something—guilt, perhaps—flashed in his eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared.

Jimin caught it, though, and for reasons he couldn't fully explain, he held back the biting remark that had been on the tip of his tongue. Instead, he stepped aside, allowing Seo Joon and his thin, silent companion to enter the apartment.

Seo Joon strode into the living room and settled on the beige couch, immediately reaching for the tablet that was handed to him without a word. His fingers tapped furiously on the screen, his agitation clear despite his composed demeanor.

Jimin took a seat on the opposite couch, watching his father closely. Something was off. It wasn't like Seo Joon to show up unannounced, especially not on a Sunday morning, and certainly not looking this flustered.

"Read it," Seo Joon said abruptly, thrusting the tablet into Jimin's hands.

Jimin took the tablet and glanced at the screen, finding an article displayed prominently. It detailed the rise of a rival architecture company that had rapidly gained momentum in recent years. The company's success was undeniable, and the CEO had garnered considerable praise. But as Jimin skimmed through the text, he struggled to understand why his father had shown it to him. It wasn't until his eyes landed on a particular name that everything clicked into place.

He scoffed as he read the final line: ". . . wishing felicity in the future." Jimin now understood the source of his father's irritation.

Kim Seokjin, the CEO in question, was undoubtedly a capable man. But his statement wasn't just a polite wish for success—it was a veiled threat. Beneath the surface, it was clear he was challenging Park Corporation's dominance, taunting them under the guise of diplomacy. Jimin could see how this would get under Seo Joon's skin. His father had built Park Corporation with ruthless determination, and now, someone was subtly undermining his legacy.

Jimin knew why his father had brought this to his attention. Seo Joon wasn’t in a position to respond directly—he no longer held the reins. And that was precisely why he had come to Jimin, to push him into the spotlight. This wasn't just about protecting the company. It was about pride, about defending the Park name, and about stoking the fire in Jimin's own ego.

Jimin's jaw tightened, his mind now fully grasping the weight of the situation. "What do you want me to do?" he asked gruffly, a new spark of determination flickering in his eyes.

"Invite him," Seo Joon replied calmly, his hands clasped firmly over his knees.

Jimin frowned, confused by the strange proposition. "Invite him?" he echoed, unsure if he had heard correctly.

His father's gaze remained steady, not offering further explanation, but the command was clear. Jimin's mind raced, trying to unravel his father's intent. An invitation? To what end? The tension in the room deepened as Jimin realized his father had something far more strategic in mind.