The Tyrant's Secret fetish-Chapter 44

Si woo

I sat there at my drafting table in a very focused manner, pencil moving fast across the paper while I tried to get this evening gown right for the client who could change everything for me. If I nailed it, they would drop millions without blinking. One dress could launch the whole fall collection. Every fashion magazine would be calling, every critic would suddenly remember my name, and people who ignored my emails last year would beg for interviews. The pressure sat heavy on my shoulders. Every line had to be clean. Every fold of fabric had to look natural, like it was already alive before it even existed.

I erased the same curve three times because it looked wrong. Too stiff. Too cheap. A dress like this had to flow when the model walked. It had to look expensive even on paper. One mistake and the entire design lost its magic. I was already behind schedule because my brain refused to shut up.

It kept dragging me back to him.

To last night.

I pressed the pencil harder than I meant to, the tip snapping against the page. I cursed under my breath and reached for another one, but my thoughts kept spinning anyway. I remembered how I slipped that little something into his drink just to see what would happen. I told myself it was curiosity. A stupid experiment. But that was a lie. I wanted to see him soften. I wanted to see him lose control.

And he did.

He melted under me, all warm and needy, eyes heavy and voice soft in a way I had never heard before. He trusted me without even realizing it, and the memory made heat crawl up my neck. Then this morning in the kitchen I grabbed him without thinking, pushed close enough that he had to feel me, and told him I would bend him over the counter like it was the most normal thing in the world.

I walked away after saying it.

Not sorry.

Not even close.

If someone offered me a time machine right now, I would go back and do the exact same thing again without hesitation. That was the worst part. I knew it was reckless. I knew it could destroy everything if anyone found out. He was my stepbrother. The word alone should have been enough to stop me.

It wasn’t.

He felt too good. Tasted too good. Looked too good.

I dragged a hand through my hair and leaned closer to the sketch, forcing myself to focus on the gown again. The bodice needed structure. Maybe silk layered over boning. Something elegant but dangerous. Something that made people stare twice.

"Focus," I muttered to myself. "You idiot, this has to be client worthy or you’re finished."

I crossed my legs tighter under the table, trying to ignore the way my body reacted just from remembering him. My thoughts refused to behave. Every time I imagined the curve of the dress, it somehow turned into the curve of his waist instead. Every soft line reminded me of skin instead of fabric.

I exhaled slowly and started shading again, determined to force my mind back to work.

That was when the door creaked open.

No knock.

Just the slow sound of hinges moving.

I frowned immediately because nobody came into my workspace without asking. This room was the only place in the house that felt like mine. My safe space. My rules.

I looked up.

And there he was.

Ye-jun stepped inside like he owned the place, completely calm, completely unaware of the damage he was doing just by existing. He shut the door behind him with a soft click that sounded far too loud in the quiet room.

He wore black lace.

Nothing else.

My brain stopped working for a full second.

The lace left almost nothing to imagination. His chest was right there, soft skin visible through the sheer fabric, nipples hard enough to show clearly beneath it like they were asking for attention. The material clung to him every time he moved, shifting and stretching over his body. My eyes dropped before I could stop them.

Bad decision.

Everything was outlined perfectly. The little pouch barely hid anything, and it looked like the lace had been painted onto him instead of sewn. My throat went dry instantly. Heat rushed through me so fast it felt like being punched.

And then there was his ass.

God.

The back barely covered him at all. Round cheeks peeked out with every step, smooth and shameless, like he had chosen that outfit just to torture me. His thighs disappeared into those high stockings that made his legs look endless. Every movement made the lace slide over his skin, catching the light.

My cock jumped so hard it hurt.

I sucked in a sharp breath and immediately crossed my legs the other way, pressing them together in panic. There was no hiding the reaction completely, but I tried anyway. The last thing I needed was him noticing the massive tent forming in my pants.

Not after last night.

Not after this morning.

No way was I giving him that satisfaction.

He walked farther into the room, slow and confident, like he didn’t feel awkward at all. Like nothing strange had happened between us. Like he hadn’t been under me hours ago or heard the things I whispered into his ear.

I gripped my pencil tighter.

"Do you need something?" I asked, aiming for annoyed professionalism and missing it completely. My voice came out rough.

He tilted his head slightly, eyes moving over the sketches scattered across my table. Curious. Calm. Dangerous without even trying.

My heart beat harder the closer he got.

The scent of his shampoo reached me first. Clean. Familiar. Domestic in a way that made everything worse because it reminded me we lived in the same house. Ate at the same table. Pretended to be normal around the same people.

I forced my eyes back onto the drawing.

Sharp lines. Fabric flow. Client worthy.

Anything but him.

But the pencil hovered uselessly above the paper because all I could feel was his presence behind me, warm and close enough that if he leaned forward even a little, he would touch me.

And God help me, part of me wanted him to.

He popped a few feet away, pretending to look around all innocent, but his eyes were locked on me and that little smirk said he knew exactly what he was doing. "Hey... you seen my charger? Think I left it in here."