For days, the mansion had become Jungkook’s private hell.

Every night, Taehyung found a way to continue their “lessons.” Sometimes it was a whisper at dinner — teaching him how to compliment a girl’s dress. Sometimes it was late in the library, showing him how to hold a woman’s hand without trembling. Sometimes it was in the garden at dusk, where she practiced walking close enough that her perfume, her curves, her heat clung to him like a spell.

And every time, Jungkook went to bed with a racing heart and a body aching for release.

But that night was different.

The house was quiet. Junhyun had gone away on a business trip, leaving the mansion to just them. Jungkook was in his room, pretending to study, when there was a soft knock.

“Kookie,” came her honey voice.

He opened the door, and there she was — Taehyung in a silk slip the color of champagne, thin straps slipping down her shoulders, lace barely covering her breasts. The fabric clung to every curve of her hips, her thighs glowing in the hallway light.

“Your next lesson,” she whispered, stepping inside without waiting.

He shut the door quickly, his chest pounding. “T-Tae… maybe we shouldn’t—”

“Shhh.” She placed a finger on his lips, smiling wickedly. “Do you want to stay a virgin forever? Do you want to embarrass yourself when a girl finally lets you touch her?”

“I’m not— I mean—”

Her finger trailed from his lips down to his chest. “Tonight, I’ll show you how to touch a woman.”

Jungkook froze, his tall body trembling.

She guided him to the edge of the bed and sat beside him, her robe falling open just enough for him to see the swell of her breasts. Her voice was soft, instructive, like she really was a teacher.

“Rule number one,” she murmured, taking his hand. “Never rush. Women want to feel… wanted. Tease them.”

She placed his palm lightly on her bare thigh, slowly dragging it upward until his fingertips brushed the lace of her slip. Jungkook’s breath hitched.

“Slow strokes… up, and down. Don’t grab like an animal. Caress, like you’re memorizing her skin.”

He followed her lead, his large hand sliding shakily over her thigh. She sighed softly, closing her eyes.

“Good boy. Already better.”

His throat worked. “T-Tae…”

“Rule number two,” she continued, ignoring his panic. “Learn her sensitive spots. Behind the neck… the inside of her thighs… the curve of her waist…”

She took his hand again, guiding it to her side, making him trace the dip of her waist, the soft line under her breasts. She let out a small moan, low and breathy, on purpose.

Jungkook almost yanked his hand away, but she held it firm. “No. Don’t stop when she moans. That means she likes it. That means you’re doing it right.”

He swallowed hard, sweat forming at his temples.

“And rule number three,” she whispered, leaning close, her lips brushing his ear. “You must learn how to make her beg.”

She placed his other hand on her chest, over her satin-covered breast. His fingers flexed, trembling against her.

“Touch me,” she breathed. “Gentle first… then a little firmer. Play with the pressure.”

He obeyed, his thumb brushing over her nipple through the fabric. She gasped, her head falling back, a moan slipping from her throat.

Jungkook’s eyes went wide. “I… I made you—”

“Yes,” she panted, arching into his touch. “That’s how you make a woman moan. Do it again.”

He did, and her lips parted in another sinful sound.

Her hand slid down, wrapping around his wrist, pressing his palm harder against her. “See? You’re learning so fast, Kookie. Imagine what else I can teach you…”

She shifted closer, her lips dangerously near his, her breath hot and sweet.

“Lesson four…” she whispered. “How to kiss a woman until she can’t breathe.”

And before he could react, her mouth pressed against his — hot, wet, demanding — as his whole world shattered into fire.