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His eyes focused in detail as the man slowly pushed up Jasmine’s skirt, revealing her in a way he’d never seen before. James had bedded many women in secret, a habit he indulged with both money and manipulation. Some women he paid generously, others he blackmailed until they caved.

Most women he encountered would readily spread their legs for him, each one hoping for something in return—whether it was the thrill of being with him, the hope of some advantage, or perhaps the naïve fantasy that he might actually fall in love with them.

They clung to that illusion, desperate to believe they could be the one to capture his heart. But they were fools, every last one of them, blind to the reality that he never intended to give anyone his loyalty or affection. To him, they were fleeting pleasures, nothing more.

Still, what James loved most were the hard-to-get girls, those who presented a challenge and made the pursuit exhilarating. Jasmine was a perfect example; her allure lay not just in her looks but in her reluctance to give in too easily.

He found her intriguing, a breath of fresh air in a world where so many women seemed willing to throw themselves at him. However, it was frustrating that she insisted on waiting until marriage to have sex—a notion he found utterly foolish.

In his mind, the idea of waiting for something so natural felt outdated and restrictive. He longed for the intimacy they could share, the connection that came with physical closeness.

Yet, no matter how he tried to reason with her, Jasmine remained steadfast in her beliefs. It left him feeling torn between his desires and the respect he had for her choices, creating a tension that lingered between them.

This was, of course, the reason he eventually strayed onto a darker path. Lacking self-control and discipline, he allowed his desires to dictate his choices, letting his lust guide his every decision. Each time he faced temptation, he found it increasingly difficult to resist, as the thrill of the chase often overshadowed his better judgment.

Yet, for all his experience, he had never seen anyone as pure and untouched as Jasmine. Her skin was soft and delicate, her folds shy and pink, untouched by any man. The sight was mesmerizing, and James felt an unbidden heat rise in him, a desire he couldn’t ignore. He gulped, feeling his own arousal, which only compounded the turmoil within him.

As the camera panned back to the man, James felt his stomach drop. The sight of that monstrous, veined fifteen-inch cock, far larger than anything James had ever seen, was aimed mercilessly at Jasmine. The contrast was shocking—the sheer enormity of the man against Jasmine’s small, vulnerable body made James’s chest tighten with fear and anger.

"Stop it! That’s my girlfriend!" James screamed at the screen, his voice frantic. "She’s mine! My… my…!" But the helplessness was suffocating. He frantically searched the video for clues, any sign that could lead him to her, but the background was unfamiliar and gave him nothing. All he could do was sit there, trapped in his room, his heart pounding and his mind reeling.

The thought of Jasmine, his Jasmine, being taken by another man, especially one like this, was unbearable. Yet, he couldn’t deny the strange thrill that ran through him as he watched, a thrill that both disgusted and excited him. The helplessness, the jealousy, and the unwelcome arousal twisted together inside him, creating a storm of emotions he couldn’t control.

The video continued, and James felt his breath quicken, torn between fury and a dark fascination.

The video refocused for a moment, zooming in on the man’s face. To James, the guy wasn’t even particularly good-looking. His features were average, his expression smug—but none of that seemed to matter. What did matter, and what James couldn’t ignore, was the sheer size of the man’s cock. A pang of jealousy flared inside him. He’d always prided himself on his looks, his athletic build, his charm, but now he found himself envying something he’d never given much thought to. He wished he had that same level of undeniable, raw masculinity.

"This is what you get for cheating, James." Ross’s voice taunted him, and James’s attention snapped back to the screen. Ross wore a smirk as he leaned back with all the confidence in the world. "You settled for second-tier pussy when you could’ve had S-class like Jasmine here." He paused, savoring the moment, and pointed mockingly at his own physique. "But hey, thanks for your stupidity. I wouldn’t be in this position without it. Hehehe."

In front of him, Jasmine was bent over, arching her back in a way that left no room for modesty. She was positioned perfectly, as if inviting Ross to take his time and savor every moment of his victory. Her flushed cheeks and the way her body moved made her look like she was caught in some feverish trance, desperate for his touch. The way she clung to him, giving herself so completely, was like salt in an open wound for James. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the screen, both horrified and inexplicably drawn to the sight.

"Jasmine! Stop! I won’t do it again! I swear!" James’s voice came out desperate, pleading. But his words were swallowed up by the relentless bass of the club’s music, pounding through the speakers, drowning his protests. No one around him could hear the edge of panic in his voice, the regret that twisted his insides like a knife.