Under the wash of city neon and rooftop stars, the air shimmered with tension so thick it nearly dripped off the glass rails. Joon-ho sat right at the heart of it—deep in plush midnight cushions, Min-Kyung pressed hard on his left, Alina wound around his right. Their legs tangled under the table, barely-clothed skin scraping, the heat of their rivalry threatening to combust.
Min-Kyung shot Alina a look, lip curling, bratty as hell. "You'll never outlast me, slut." Her voice was silk cut with razors. One hand slipped onto Joon-ho's thigh, pink manicured nails digging in, claiming him. She arched her back, breasts straining at her top, eyes glittering with challenge.
Alina answered with a slow, hungry smile, refusing to flinch. "Let's see who he chooses to fuck first." Her Russian accent made it sound almost like a threat, her own hand finding Joon-ho's crotch, fingers tracing the growing bulge, nails teasing the seam of his pants. "Don't disappoint me."
