The lounge was a world away from the humid tangle of the massage room—cooler, scented with citrus and incense, bathed in warm light. But the atmosphere was just as charged, heat trailing behind every step.
Joon-ho walked with Hyerim's arm looped through his, Saena and Yurin trailing behind, the four of them naked and unhurried. Their bodies bore the aftermath: flushed skin, sweat drying in the air, and in Joon-ho's case, a cock that still refused to soften, half-hard and glossy with leftover wetness and streaks of cum. The marks of pleasure—bite, kiss, bruise—scattered across their skin, proof of what had just unfolded.
Hyerim led the way to a velvet sofa that curved around the corner of the VIP lounge, plush and deep, facing a low marble table already laid out with fruit, snacks, ice buckets, and crystal decanters. The staff had anticipated everything—because Hyerim never left anything to chance.
