Mr. Qin stood just outside the door, his breath heavy and uneven, his thoughts spiraling into a haze of desire. He could feel the hotness radiating from below. It was hard and strong.
The dim lighting of the hallway cast his shadow across the floor, a dark silhouette of the man grappling with the primal urges that threatened to consume him.
He could hardly believe the intensity of what he was feeling. The mere sight of her, through the soft fabric of her dress, had sent a torrent of heat flooding his body.
It wasn't just attraction; it was something far deeper, something that made every nerve in his body ignite with a fire he hadn't felt in years.
His eyes had traced every curve of her body as she moved, and the memory of her form was now burned into his mind, refusing to let go.
The way her hips swayed, the gentle slope of her shoulders, the softness of her breasts pressing against the fabric—he could see it all so clearly.
