Y/N's POV
I took out the pink toy and washed it thoroughly. It really was my best friend at the moment. I let out a soft moan in anticipation. Taking a look around the bathroom, I searched for the perfect place. I liked to masturbate lying down. I could never do it in a rush or when I felt uncomfortable. The bedroom would be best, but my assistant's presence would only distract me. There was a modern white chaise longue in the corner of the bathroom, though. It wouldn't be the most comfortable spot, but it'd have to do. I was desperate enough to lie on the floor anyway.
The chaise was surprisingly soft and perfectly suited my body. I untied the bathrobe, letting it slip to the sides of my body, and reclined, naked and yearning for orgasm. I licked two fingers and slid them inside me to reduce the friction. Amazingly, I was still so wet it proved completely unnecessary. I switched the vibrator on and slipped its middle prong into my pulsating snatch. As the thickest part slid deeper into me, a second protrusion—shaped like a bunny—entered my back door. My body spasmed. I shivered, knowing it wouldn't take me long at all to slake my desire. The third part of my rubber companion vibrated the hardest, caressing my puffed-up clitoris. I closed my eyes. There was only one image in my head, and I wouldn't want it any other way. It was Jimin, in the shower, holding his beautiful cock in his hands.
The first orgasm came after only a couple of seconds. The next waves came in increments of half a minute at most. After a short while, I was so exhausted I had difficulty pulling the pink vibrator out. I brought my legs together.
Thirty minutes later, I was standing in front of the mirror, packing my cosmetics into one of the leather bags. I glanced at my reflection. I looked nothing like the woman I had been just a week ago. My skin was tanned, healthy, and fresh. I'd tied my hair into a neat bun, lined my eyes delicately, and applied some dark lip gloss. Taehyung picked a white Chanel outfit for our trip. Long, wide, off-white pants made of paper-thin silk blended in with a delicate flowy shirt with wide shoulder straps, giving the impression of being a single, unbroken overall. The peep-toe Prada stilettos complemented the outfit perfectly.
"Your things are packed," Taehyung said, passing me my bag.
"I'd like to see Jimin now."
"He hasn't finished his meeting yet, but—"
"Then he will," I snapped disdainfully, leaving the room.
The library was one of those rooms whose location I had committed to memory. I headed down the corridor, and the patter of my stilettos reverberated from the stone floor. As I reached the right door, I took a deep breath and pulled on the handle. I went inside and felt a shiver running down my spine. I hadn't been here since my first conversation with the Man in Black, only a while after waking up from my deep sleep.
Jimin was sitting on the couch. He wore a light linen suit and an unbuttoned shirt. Next to him sat a man with black hair—very handsome and a lot younger than Jimin. Seeing me, both of them jumped to their feet. The first look I got from the Man in Black was ice-cold. As if he wanted to scold me for interrupting his meeting. But as soon as his eyes swept my entire silhouette, his stare seemed to grow less severe. He said something to the other man, keeping his eyes on me, and started walking my way. He approached me and leaned over, kissing me on the cheek.
"A pity. I had to cope without you," he whispered, planting the kiss.
"I've done the same," I replied in a whisper as his mouth retreated.
The words made him freeze for an instant. His stare was full of passion and anger. He took my hand in his and led me to his friend.
"Y/N, meet Jungkook—my right hand." I walked over to the man to offer him a hand, but he swooped in, grabbed me by the shoulders and hugged me.
