The Tyrant's Secret fetish Chapter 9

~Ye jun~

Si-woo’s foot didn’t stop, it pressed harder, circling slow over my dick through my pants, and I could feel myself twitching, betraying because damn it, my body was still wired from the elevator, all sensitive and stupid. I clamped my thighs together, trying to trap his foot and make him stop, but he just pushed firr, his face totally blank above the table, like he was innocent, sipping his soup calm as hell. "You okay over there, Ye Jun?" he asked, voice dripping fake concern, but his eyes were laughing, that sadistic spark back.

"Fine," I squeaked out, way too high-pitched, shifting in my seat but that only made it worse, his toe grinding right over the tip, and I bit my lip hard to keep from moaning or yelling or both. Why was he doing this now? In front of them? Perv bastard, getting off on the risk, probably hard under the table already.

Mom tilted her head, watching close. "You sure? You’re so quiet tonight, honey. Usually you’re chatting away about work or that new drama you’re watching. What’s wrong? Did sothing happen?"

I glanced at Si-woo, his foot still teasing, pressing in little pulses that had gripping the table edge white-knuckled, and I knew if I spilled anything real, he’d kill later slap silly or edge until I cried again. But fuck it, the quiet was killing more, and with his damn foot driving nuts, I blurted out the first thing to distract, my voice shaky. "Actually, Mom, uh, I’ve been thinking about work. I want a promotion. Like, a real upgrade. I’m tired of being the low-level grunt fetching coffee and filing crap."

Si-woo’s foot froze, then pulled back sharp, and his eyes narrowed across the table, all that arrogance flaring up. "What? No way. You’re barely qualified for what you have now. Promotion? You’d screw it up in a week."

Dad set his chopsticks down loud, staring at Si-woo. "Excuse ? Who are you to decide that? I’m the chairman, not you, vice chairman. If Ye Jun wants a shot, he gets it. He’s family, and he’s worked hard I’ve seen the reports. Starting tomorrow, Ye Jun, you’re a director. Managing director, even. Handle so projects, show us what you got."

Si-woo’s jaw dropped, literally, his spoon clattering against his bowl. "Dad, are you serious? He’s my stepbrother, yeah, but at work? He’d be above half the team including people who’ve been there years. This is nepotism bullshit."

"Nepotism?" Dad barked a laugh, but it was sharp, no humor. "Says the kid I made vice chairman at such a young age. Shut your mouth, Si-woo. It’s done. Ye Jun deserves it he’s smart, creative, and unlike so people, he greets everyone when he walks in the door."

Mom clapped her hands, delighted. "Oh, that’s wonderful! Ye Jun, sweetie, congratulations! We’ll celebrate maybe a family trip soon?"

I sat there stunned, the teasing from Si-woo’s foot forgotten as this huge grin split my face, because holy shit, managing director? ? With the salary bump? I could finally buy that dream car, the sleek red Tesla I’d been drooling over online for months, no more crappy bus rides or begging rides from the perv across from . And the life the apartnt maybe, dinners out, clothes that didn’t co from discount bins. "Really? Dad, thank you, oh my goodnes gracious , yes! I won’t let you down, I swear. Projects? I’ll crush them."

Si-woo shoved his chair back a bit, crossing his arms tight, his face all thunderclouds. "This is a joke. You think you can handle it, Ye Jun? Managing people? Budgets? You’d cry the first ti soone yells at you."

"Like you make cry?" I shot back without thinking, then clamped my mouth shut, heat rushing to my face as Mom and Dad exchanged confused looks.

"What?" Mom asked, brow furrowing. "Si-woo, you better not be bullying him at work."

Si-woo snorted, but his eyes drilled into , promising payback. "Bullying? Nah, we’re just... close, like you said. Right, Ye Jun?"

I nodded fast, forcing a laugh that ca out choked. "Yeah, super close. Best bros." Under the table, I kicked his shin hard, and he winced, but covered it with a cough.

Dad waved it off, digging back into his food. "Good. Now eat, both of you. And Si-woo, drop the attitude Ye Jun’s promotion stands. End of discussion."

Si-woo stayed quiet, stabbing at his at like it offended him, shooting glares every few seconds, and I couldn’t resist poking back subtle, mouthing "suck it" when our parents weren’t looking. He flipped off under the table, quick and hidden, but it made snort into my rice.

After, when we cleared plates, Mom pulled into a hug in the kitchen. "I’m so proud of you, baby. You deserve this don’t let anyone tell you different." Her voice was soft, warm, and for a second, I hugged back tight, ignoring the sticky shirt because yeah, this felt good, real good.

But Si-woo lingered in the doorway, arms crossed, watching us with that dark look. "Congrats, director," he said, voice flat, sarcastic as hell. "Can’t wait to see you shine at work."

I pulled away from Mom, grinning wide. "Thanks, bro. Bet you’ll love reporting to on so stuff now." It was a lie he was still vice chairman, higher up, but the jab landed, his eyes flashing anger.

He stepped closer as Mom turned to load the dishwasher, his voice low, right in my ear. "You think this changes anything? You’re still mine to handle. Watch your back, oga."

I shivered, but played it off with a pout. "Ooh, scary. Go draw your pervy sketches or sothing." I shoved past him, heart pounding, but the high from the promotion drowned it out. Upstairs in my room later, I flopped on the bed, scrolling car sites on my phone, picking out options red exterior, black interior, all the bells and whistles. This was it, my dream life starting, money flowing, independence. Little did I know, though, that bastard Si-woo wasn’t done ruining not by a long shot.