These days, Tae’s world was a haze of bliss and bruises—sweet, secret marks from Kook’s teeth and fingers blooming across her skin like love letters. Their sex life was a revelation: raw, relentless, and ridiculously good. Mornings started with him sneaking into her penthouse at dawn, waking her with his tongue buried between her thighs until she came screaming his name. Afternoons blurred into quickies—him bending her over the kitchen counter, her riding him in the backseat of his Porsche after “errands.” Nights? Marathons of possession—him tying her wrists with his belt, fucking her slow and deep until she begged, then pounding her until the neighbors complained. He treated her like a queen and a whore: breakfast in bed one hour, her on her knees the next. Flowers arrived at her office with notes like Thinking about how your pussy grips me—see you tonight. And the sex? Explosive. His cock—thick, curved, endless—stretched her in ways Joon never had, hitting depths that made her see stars. Kook didn’t just fuck her; he claimed her, whispering filth while holding her after, fingers tracing her curves like she was his masterpiece.