𝓱𝓮𝓮𝓼𝓷𝓰𝓲𝓻𝓵

Seizing the moment when the banker was distracted greeting another guest, Heeseung slipped his left hand into the pocket of his vest. His fingers found the cold, engraved surface of his pocket watch, a solid gold family heirloom. He flicked the lid open with a soft click of his thumb. Midnight had already passed.

It was time.

Without breaking composure, he waited for the precise second to excuse himself with a quiet murmur about a persistent headache caused by the tobacco smoke. He moved with the agility of a shadow through the sea of silks, satins, and genuine pearl necklaces, dodging the watchful gazes of the matrons patrolling the room. No one questioned the movements of a Lee; his respectability was an indisputable fact. He crossed the marble foyer and stepped out onto the main staircase, where the icy Manhattan night air struck his face, clearing the lethargy of the event.

“The Packard.” he ordered the valet in a voice stripped of the political warmth he had used all evening.

The employee nodded promptly, intimidated by the cold authority radiating from the young man. A few minutes later, the imposing black automobile stopped at the curb, its engine purring softly like a tame but dangerous beast. Heeseung slid into the driver’s seat, dismissed the valet with a silver coin, and before the door had fully closed, pressed his foot down on the accelerator.

As the Waldorf faded behind him and the lights of the skyscrapers dissolved into the darker streets of lower Manhattan, Heeseung’s perfect facade began to crumble. With one hand on the wheel, he used the other to open the glove compartment. The latch gave way, and nestled among the vehicle’s documents gleamed the deep blue of a small velvet box. His hand lingered for a second over it, caressing the texture of the case that had hidden the sapphires for days. A genuine smile, tense with anticipation yet filled with an almost violent devotion, curved his lips. He slammed the compartment shut.

Every turn of the wheel took him further from the hypocrisy of his world and closer to you. In recent months, that drive had become his only moment of true clarity. He thought about your bold haircut, the way you defied gravity on stage, and the warmth of your skin. He drove fast, bordering on reckless, devouring the streets still wet from the recent drizzle.

Finally, the car slipped into the back alley behind the “speakeasy”. It was a narrow passage that reeked of dampness and cheap illegal gin, a stark contrast to the opulence he had just left. Yet for him, that cracked pavement was a sanctuary. The alley was the only silent witness to his escapes, the only place where he could worship you without the gossip columns tearing your name apart. It infuriated him that he had to hide. If it were up to him, he would take you by the hand and drag you into the center of the Waldorf, forcing that stale dynasty to bow before you. Because you were worth more than any of those insipid heiresses; you were worth every risk, every lie, and every reputation he put on the line, even if you were the first to doubt it and demand secrecy.

He turned off the engine but left the headlights on, casting sharp silhouettes across the rain-soaked alley. He stepped out of the Packard and pushed open the heavy wooden back door of the club, bypassing the guard who already knew his face, and especially the thickness of his tips.

As soon as he crossed the threshold, the wall of sound hit him instantly. The raw, hot notes of jazz floated through the air thick with cigarette smoke. The place was packed. There were businessmen who had loosened their ties, local gangsters in pinstripe suits, and sailors looking to forget the docks. Most were already showing the effects of bootleg alcohol, with glassy eyes and overly loud laughter. Heeseung stood out immediately. Even in this underground dive, the fall of his coat, the refinement of his features, and the rigidity of his posture made it clear that although classes mixed here, there were still levels. He belonged at the very top.

He scanned the crowd with thinly veiled disdain. To these men, the women dancing on stage or serving drinks were mere merchandise, a pretty flesh to satisfy carnal desires in a dark corner and forget by dawn. They felt entitled to possess them with their eyes.

Heeseung clenched his jaw as he crossed the room toward the dressing area. He wasn’t there for a fleeting whim. What he felt for you went far beyond the physical; it was absolute possession, a fire that consumed his chest and threatened to explode if he didn’t claim you right away.

The hallway leading to the dressing rooms was a narrow labyrinth, thick with the smell of sweat, talcum powder, hair spray, and the sickly-sweet residue of cheap perfume. Heeseung walked with firm steps, ignoring the bustle around him; the constant coming and going of flappers adjusting their stockings, laughing shrilly, or passing around flasks of bootleg liquor.

Halfway down the corridor, one of them stepped into his path. She was a woman with endless legs and generous curves, wrapped in a silk fringed dress that left very little to the imagination. She leaned against the wall with languid familiarity, exhaling a thick cloud of cigarette smoke before fixing her kohl-lined eyes on him. Her gaze swept over Heeseung’s tailcoat, instantly recognizing the impeccable cut that only Fifth Avenue money could buy.

“Well, well… looks like we have a genuine high-society gentleman around here,” she purred, taking a step forward that dangerously closed the distance between them. “You look a little tense, handsome. All that formalwear must be exhausting. If you’re looking for some entertainment to forget about business and have a good time… I know exactly how to make you relax.”

Heeseung looked down at her from his height with an icy stare that would have made anyone retreat. Inside, a biting curse crossed his mind; he was disgusted that they breathed the same air as you, disgusted that they assumed he was like the rest of the pigs who paid for company. When the woman, emboldened by her own audacity, reached out to touch the lapel of his jacket. He shifted back an inch, and before her fingers could touch the fabric, he gripped her wrist with iron strength. He didn’t hurt her, but the hold was firm enough to stop her cold.

“I’m not interested,” he stated, his voice so sharp it seemed to freeze the hallway. “Out there at the tables there are dozens of men with pockets full of cash, more than willing to use you in the way you seem so eager for. Go find them.”

Without waiting for a reply, he pushed her aside with a brusque motion and continued on his way, leaving the woman stunned, her pride barely intact thanks to the young man’s haste.

Heeseung didn’t stop until he reached the door he knew by heart. Without bothering to knock, he turned the handle and pushed it open. The collective dressing room was a chaos of feathers, mirrors lit by bare bulbs, and delicate lingerie. His intrusion drew a chorus of muffled gasps and surprised squeaks from the dancers, who were in various states of undress and preparation for the next number.

None of them mattered to him. His gaze swept across the room like radar until it found you at the back, sitting in front of the vanity, putting the finishing touches on your lipstick. When his reflection appeared in the mirror, your eyes widened with a mix of surprise and panic. Acting on pure instinct before the others could start whispering, you stood up, strode toward him, grabbed his hand, and dragged him out of the dressing room, slamming the door shut behind you.

The moment the latch clicked and you were alone in the dim hallway, Heeseung didn’t give you time to breathe. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you against his chest with an almost painful urgency, clinging to you as if you were the only real thing after hours of enduring the Waldorf’s falsehood. His face buried itself in the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent.

“How can you be so reckless?” you whispered against his shoulder, trying to keep your voice low while your hands rested on his chest. “You keep coming here like it’s nothing, without worrying that someone might recognize you. You don’t even try to hide who you are.”

Heeseung pulled back just enough to look at you. An adoring smile, completely unlike the stiffness he had shown minutes earlier, lit up his features. His dark eyes shone with absolute devotion.

“The last thing I care about in this life is what the city’s gossipmongers can invent about me,” he replied, his tone soft but unyielding. “I thought you already knew that by now, my love.”

Then, closing the distance even further, he took your gloved hand and slowly brought it to his lips. He pressed a reverent kiss to your knuckles, holding your gaze through his lashes without breaking eye contact for even a second.

“You have no idea how agonizing it’s been waiting for you all night. I’ve been desperate to see you since the moment I woke up.”

You smiled with a mix of resignation and tenderness. It was impossible to keep up any pretense of anger with a man who looked at you like you were a goddess, someone who seemed willing to kiss the very ground you walked on.

“I missed you too,” you admitted with a sigh, softening your posture, “But understand me… The last thing I want is for your reputation to be tarnished because of me. Your family, your name…”

Heeseung let out a heavy sigh and closed the distance in one swift motion. He pushed you gently but possessively against the wall. His right hand immediately rose to your face, cupping your cheek with his long fingers, forcing you to look at him as he captured your lips in a deep kiss. It was a hungry kiss, filled with all the tension he had held back throughout the week, a silent claim that left you breathless. Your tongues met in a slow, possessive rhythm that made your knees weaken.

When you finally pulled apart, gasping for air, you looked at him in astonishment, cheeks flushed and pulse racing. Heeseung leaned in to place a tender kiss on your forehead, resting his own forehead against yours as he spoke to you in a low, husky, intimate voice.

“Listen to me carefully. There isn’t a single risk in this world I wouldn’t take for you. I’d leave everything behind if that was the price to be with you openly, in the light of day. My name means nothing if you’re not part of it.”

A soft, melodic laugh escaped your lips at his drama. You gave his arm a playful pat, looking at him with a spark of amusement in your eyes.

“It seems your feelings are clouding your judgment, darling,” you said teasingly, shaking your head. “Those definitely didn’t sound like the words of the smart, calculating man you’re supposed to be. There’s no doubt that love is a real danger… an absolute threat to coherence and logic.”

Heeseung let out a low chuckle, a vibrant sound that was muffled against your neck before he pulled back to look at you again. His fingers slowly traced the contour of your cheek, capturing the warmth of your skin.

“I have no way to refute that,” he admitted, his eyes shining in a way he would never show in the salons of Fifth Avenue. “I’m fully aware of my own recklessness and my complete lack of reason right now. But you have to admit it’s entirely your fault; you’ve got me completely foolish.”

Your laughter rang out clear and light in the hallway, untouched by the peeling walls or the clamor of the club. It was a sound so full of life that Heeseung felt a violent flip in his chest. His heart raced in an almost painful way, confirming what he already knew: there was no room for regret. In all of New York, in the entire world, there wasn’t a single woman capable of making him feel so ridiculously alive.

“You’ve definitely lost your mind, Lee,” you said, crossing your arms with perfectly feigned indignation. You lifted your chin, looking up at him with a haughty, arrogant expression that only dazzled him more. “Though, if we’re being honest, you were already a bit of a fool the first time we met.”

Heeseung shook his head, amused, adoring that sharp, daring spark that made you unique.

“Enough talking, my lady” he declared without warning. Before you could protest, he lifted you off the ground. Your feet left the floor and you had to cling to his shoulders as he settled you in his arms with astonishing ease. He wasn’t willing to leave you in that place a second longer, not now that he finally had you all to himself.

He crossed the hallway and the main room with firm steps, completely ignoring the sideways glances and obscene comments a couple of drunk men threw his way. Heeseung clenched his teeth, barely holding back the curses burning in his throat. The mere idea that those men dared to look at you turned his stomach, but his priority was getting you out of there.

He pushed open the back door and the cold night air greeted them in the alley. The cracked pavement glistened under the drizzle, reflecting the imposing silhouette of the Packard. With care, as if carrying the most valuable piece of contraband, he opened the rear door of the car and gently placed you on the leather seat before climbing in beside you and closing the door with a solid thud, shutting out the noise of the outside world.

As soon as he settled next to you, the urgency in his gaze shifted into an almost boyish anticipation.

“There’s something I’ve been keeping for you. And I can’t wait another minute to give it to you.” he said, his voice dropping a little lower. He reached over the back of the seat toward the front of the car. His long fingers quickly opened the glove compartment and returned holding the small velvet box. He offered it to you, holding your gaze. “I saw it and thought of you immediately. There was no way to avoid it.”

You stared at him wide-eyed before accepting the expensive case. When you opened it, the sparkle under the glove compartment light stole your breath. It wasn’t costume jewelry or a cheap imitation like the chorus girls usually wore. It was a wide choker necklace, a genuinely choker with perfectly aligned pearls set around a central diamond that caught the faint light of the alley with blinding purity.

Surprise was written all over your face.

“You’re getting more and more drastic with your gifts and the way you spoil me, Heeseung.” you whispered, running your fingertips over the gems.

Heeseung didn’t answer with words. He took the necklace from your hands and motioned for you to turn slightly. His fingers, warm despite the night, gently brushed aside the strands of your bob haircut to wrap the pearls around your neck. Before fastening the clasp, he leaned in to leave a slow kiss on your collarbone, followed by another, longer and firmer, on the side of your neck.

“Nothing is too drastic when it comes to you,” he rasped against your skin, his breath sending a shiver down your spine. “You deserve the best in the world, and I’m showing you that I can give it to you without reservations, without complications.”

He secured the clasp and let his hands slide down to your shoulders, turning you to face him once more. The diamond sparkled right at the base of your throat, looking obscenely beautiful against your skin.

“If you finally decided to ignore the prejudices and the fear of what others might say… there would be many more improvements in your life. Improvements I would lay at your feet the moment you asked for them.”

“Heeseung…” you whispered his name, fully aware of the social storm it would cause for the Lee heir to appear hand in hand with a flapper from a speakeasy.

But you couldn’t finish the sentence. Just like before, Heeseung leaned in and kissed you to silence you.

But this time the kiss was different. There was no reverent tenderness from moments ago, nor the patient promise of a gentleman. It was a complete shift, an immediate, heavy wave of possession that sought to erase any trace of doubt from your mind and remind you exactly who you belonged to in the darkness of that car. His mouth claimed yours with an urgency that transformed the atmosphere into something thick, hot, and suffocating, marking the beginning of the night’s true rhythm.

And a moment later… the alley behind the speakeasy reeked of bootleg gin and rain-slicked pavement now. Inside the idling Packard, the world outside ceased to exist. Heeseung’s tuxedo jacket now lay discarded across the front seat, his tie hanging loose around his neck like a forgotten noose. You were already in his lap, knees sinking into the butter-soft leather, the jet-beaded fringe of your dress shoved up to your waist in an impatient rustle.

“God, I missed you, so badly” he growled against your lips, his voice rough from hours of barely contained hunger. His hands, still bearing the heavy family crest ring, slid down your body with blatant need. The beads clattered like spilled coins as he pushed the fabric higher, exposing the sheer silk stockings and the delicate satin garter belt he’d brought you from Paris a month ago. No knickers underneath, just your bare, already soaked cunt glistening in the faint glow of the dashboard.

His fingers parted your slick folds without preamble. You were drenched, hot, slippery arousal coating his knuckles instantly, strings of it clinging between his digits when he spread you wider. The swollen lips of your sex parted with a wet sound; your clit throbbed visibly under his thumb, engorged and dark. He dragged two fingers through your cream, then pushed them knuckle-deep inside you, curling hard against that spongy front wall until your inner muscles fluttered and sucked at him greedily.

You moaned, low and wrecked, the sound vibrating against the thick glass and steel cocoon of the car. “Heeseung… drive first. Someone might see…You might get in trouble for that…—”

“No.” He yanked his fingers free. Slick strands stretching and snapping, and fisted his cock through his open fly. He was brutally hard, veins standing thick under the flushed skin, the fat head already leaking a steady bead of precome that smeared across your inner thigh when he notched himself at your entrance.

One brutal upward snap of his hips and he sheathed himself to the root in a single, searing glide. The stretch was obscene, your walls yielding and then clamping down like a vise around his girth, every ridged inch forcing your cunt to open wider, to take him deeper. The sudden fullness punched the air from your lungs; you felt the blunt head lodge against your cervix, a dull, delicious ache blooming outward as your body struggled to accommodate him.

The car rocked violently once, twice, suspension groaning. Then it settled into the filthy, liquid rhythm of flesh slapping flesh. Each time he bottomed out, your arousal squelched loudly around his shaft, wet, sucking noises that echoed in the tight space, mingling with the creak of leather and your broken gasps.

His mouth latched onto the side of your throat, teeth scraping before he sucked hard enough to bruise. The skin bloomed hot and tender under his lips; you could feel the blood rushing to the surface, the faint copper-salt taste of your own skin when his tongue laved over the mark. “You feel that?” he panted, breathing against your pulse point. “That’s mine. Every goddamn inch of you is mine, and I’m tired of pretending you’re not.”

You rode him harder, hips rolling with the same sinuous snap you used on stage. Your inner walls dragged along his length on every lift, then sucked him back in on the drop, milking the thick ridge under the head. The friction was scalding, velvet heat squeezing him so tightly his breath hitched every time your cunt fluttered. Sweat gathered in the dip of your spine, also trickling between your breasts; the necklace he’d given you swung heavily, stones and pearls slapping against sweat-damp skin with every bounce.

He gripped your ass cheeks, fingers digging in until the flesh whitened then flushed red under his hold. Nails bit sharp half-moons into the plush meat.

“I bought you that necklace,” he rasped, voice fraying. One hand slid up to trace the heavy pearls, cool against fever-hot skin, while the other kept your hips pinned so he could grind the base of his cock against your clit on every deep thrust. “Diamonds and pearls, the exact ones you like the most. I want to see it sparkle in daylight, not just when I’m buried inside you in some back alley. Why the hell do you make me keep us a secret?”

You clenched deliberately around him, slow, rhythmic pulses that made his eyes roll back and his hips jerk erratically. Your cunt was so wet now that every withdrawal dragged a glistening coat of your arousal down his shaft, pooling at the base where his dark curls met your bare lips. The obscene slickness coated his balls, dripped onto the leather in fat, sticky drops.

“Because you’re Heeseung Lee,” you gasped, voice splintering on a moan as he punched particularly deep. “Society prince. Moral compass. One whisper of a flapper dripping on your cock and they’ll tear you apart.”

He snarled, flipped you in one brutal motion so your back hit the seat. One knee shoved your thigh high and wide; the other braced on the floorboard. The new angle let him sink impossibly deeper, cockhead kissing your cervix on every punishing stroke, the pressure so intense it bordered on pain and still made pleasure spike white-hot behind your eyes.

The car shook with the force of his thrusts. Your necklace clasp clicked rhythmically against the seatback; your stockings rasped against his trousers. Sweat dripped from his brow onto your collarbone, slid between your breasts in salty rivulets. His thumb found your clit, swollen, slippery, hypersensitive, and rubbed tight, merciless circles that made your thighs quake.

“I don’t give a damn, never did” he hissed, voice shredded. “Let them talk. Let them stare. I want to take you to the Waldorf on my arm. I want to fuck you in our own bed, not this goddamn car after playing the perfect gentleman all night.” His thumb pressed harder; your cunt spasmed violently around him, inner walls rippling, trying to pull him deeper. “I love you, damn it. I love you so much it’s eating me alive.”

The orgasm tore through you like bad gin set alight, sharp, consuming, unstoppable. Your walls clamped down in hard, rhythmic pulses, milking his cock so fiercely his rhythm broke. A gush of fresh slick flooded around him, soaking his shaft, his balls, the crease of your ass, the leather beneath. You cried out, nails scoring down his back through his open shirt as your whole pelvis fluttered and seized.

He followed on the next brutal thrust, burying himself balls-deep and coming with a guttural groan of your name. Hot, thick spurts painted your insides, until you felt overfull, the excess seeping out around his base in creamy rivulets that trickled down your skin. His cock twitched inside you with every aftershock, smearing his release deeper.

For a long moment the only sounds were your wrecked breathing, the wet squelch when he shifted slightly, and the distant wail of a saxophone from the club. Heeseung collapsed over you, still buried to the hilt, softening slowly inside your pulsing heat. His lips brushed your temple, tasting salt.

“Next time,” he whispered, voice gravel and ruin, “I’m not letting you leave this car until you say yes to being seen with me in the light.”

You smiled against his damp hair, fingers threading through the strands he’d spent hours slicking back for the party. “We’ll see, darling.”

But you both knew, he’d keep spoiling you with diamonds and more until the day you finally let the whole glittering world watch him ruin you in public the way he ruined you right now.