The atmosphere in the bedroom had shifted from a place of recovery to a temple of anticipation. The flickering amber light of the aromatherapy candle cast dancing shadows against the cream-colored walls, and the scent of sandalwood and vanilla seemed to thicken, swirling around them like a warm, fragrant blanket. Mirae lay exposed on the massage table, her breathing ragged, her eyes wide and hazy with a hunger that had been building since the moment she had stepped into the penthouse.
Joon-ho remained standing over her, his presence overwhelming. He looked down at her, his gaze traveling from her flushed cheeks to the glistening, swollen folds of her pussy. The contrast between her pale, luminous skin and the dark lace of her discarded lingerie on the floor created a visual that was almost too much to bear.
Without warning, Joon-ho reached down. His fingers were still slick with oil, and with a precise, sudden motion, he flicked her clitoris.
