THE WORLD SHE PAINTED RED |KTH(18+)

CH-82|SCREAM FOR GOD!

Isabella's fingers twisted into Taehyung's hair—gripping hard—as he continued rubbing her through the fabric.

Every slow, deliberate press of his palm sent electric pulses through her body. Her hips instinctively rocked into his touch, craving more friction.

The grip in his hair tightened—not pulling him away, but anchoring him there. A silent plea: Don't stop. Do that again.

Her breathing turned ragged.

Chest rising fast.

Moans muffled against the quiet hum of the empty meeting room.

Taehyung created space—just a few inches.

He stepped back slightly, breaking the heat of their bodies for a moment. Then, with slow precision, he gently peeled her shirt sleeves down... one by one... rolling them up to her wrists like he was undressing her piece by piece.

His touch? Deliberate. Each brush of his fingers along her arms sent tingles through Isabella—her head spinning from how light and teasing it felt after all that intensity. Each touch was feather-light... teasingly slow.

It shouldn't have been so intense—but it was.

Taehyung took each hand in his. One in each palm.

Taehyung moved fast—smoothly.

With one strong hand, he lifted both of Isabella's wrists above her head and held them there.

The other took the bundled sleeves of her shirt—the fabric still loosely tied from where it had been rolled up—and quickly wrapped it around her bound hands.

Not rough. Not painful.

Just firm enough to restrain—gentle but secure.

He tied a small knot with the excess fabric: simple, neat... keeping his girlfriend's arms neatly pinned above her in a pose that was equal parts submission and surrender.

A quiet dominance flashed in his eyes as he stepped back to admire what he'd done.

Taehyung turned her around slowly.

And there she was—flushed, cheeks burning red, eyes slightly dazed.

The black lacey bra hugged her curves perfectly, the straps thin against her shoulders—a contrast against her pale skin. The pencil skirt still hugged her hips perfectly... and those black Louboutin heels? Still on—adding a sharp edge to the scene.

A few strands of hair had fallen loose from their earlier movements, framing her face in messy softness. A few strands sticking to her forehead, others falling over one eye...

Taehyung stared for half a second—taking it all in:

His woman. Bound by his hands. Blushing because of him.

And those eyes... wide, breathless... his.

Taehyung surged forward—fast— One second he was looking at her—the next he cupped her face with both hands.

Their lips crashed together again: fierce, hungry, messy. A kiss full of pent-up desire.

At the same time, his other arm locked around her waist—pulling Isabella flush against him so hard there wasn't an inch between them.

Then, with ease born of strength and passion, he lifted slightly... guiding one of her thighs up to wrap around his torso.

Taehyung gently lowered Isabella onto the conference table.