Ye Jun
Si-woo didn't waste a single second on foreplay. One second I was smirking at him like an idiot saying "your move, asshole," and the next my shirt was in pieces on the floor, buttons pinging off the wall like they were trying to escape the mess I'd started, and that stupid belt from his suit pants was already wrapped tight around both my wrists, yanked up and looped around the headboard so fast I barely had time to register the cold leather digging in. Ten seconds, tops. Guy moved like he'd rehearsed this in his head all damn day, every motion sharp and practiced, fingers quick, no hesitation.
