The moment Zoey's office door closed, the air changed.
The outside world vanished, and Jiho felt as if he had stepped into a different universe — one where only Zoey existed, and she was everything.
Zoey pushed him gently but firmly until he stumbled backward into the couch against the far wall — the soft leather catching him as he sank down, blinking up at her.
She stood before him, tall and powerful, a predator savoring her prey.
"You have no idea," Zoey murmured, slowly slipping off her blazer and tossing it carelessly onto a chair, "how long I've been waiting to break that perfect little shell of yours."
Jiho swallowed hard, his hands clutching the edge of the couch.
He couldn't move.
He didn't want to move.
Zoey knelt on the couch, straddling his lap without warning, her weight pressing down just enough to make him feel small. Trapped.
Her fingers found his tie, tugging it loose with infuriating slowness.
Jiho's breath hitched. He felt every movement — the brush of her fingers against his throat, the heat of her body against his, the way her scent filled his lungs and made his head spin.
Zoey leaned in, her mouth barely grazing his ear.
"Relax," she whispered, her hands sliding down to undo the first button of his shirt.
"I'll take care of everything."
Jiho shivered under her touch, every nerve alight.
"You're trembling," Zoey teased, a wicked glint in her eyes as she leaned back to study his face.
"So cute... trying so hard to stay professional."
Jiho opened his mouth to protest — but Zoey silenced him with another kiss, slower this time.
She kissed him like she had all the time in the world, coaxing him open, making him melt against her.
Her hands roamed over his chest, feeling the way he tensed, then gradually relaxed under her touch.
"You don't have to think," she murmured between kisses.
"Just feel."
And Jiho did.
He stopped thinking.
He stopped worrying.
He let himself be guided by her hands, her mouth, her heat.
Zoey peeled his shirt open, revealing pale skin that flushed under her gaze.
She traced slow, deliberate paths along his collarbone, down his chest, savoring every small, helpless sound he made.
"You're beautiful," she said, voice rough with desire.
"Mine to command."
Jiho whimpered softly, his body arching instinctively toward her.
The words — mine — sent a shiver straight to his core.
Zoey pushed him back against the couch, taking full control now.
Her hands explored every inch of him, mapping him, claiming him.
Each kiss, each touch was a brand, marking him as hers.
And Jiho, shy, serious Jiho — he let her.
He surrendered.
Piece by piece, Zoey stripped him of his barriers, until he lay beneath her, utterly vulnerable, utterly hers.
And when she finally took him fully, it was not rough — it was overwhelming.
Powerful.
Unavoidable.
Jiho gasped and clung to her, riding the wave of sensation and dominance that Zoey poured into him.
She whispered against his skin, praise and command tangled together:
"Good boy."
"Mine."
"Stay with me."
And Jiho obeyed.
Body and soul.
{End of Chapter 5}