Wild Affair on the New Year's Express

I went to my boyfriend's home with him to celebrate New Year's. On the sleeper train heading to meet my boyfriend's parents for the New Year, I decided to spice things up. After the lights went out late at night, I crept over to his bunk, climbed on top of him before he could react, and kissed him hard. Something felt a little off, but I was too caught up in the heat of the moment to care. Halfway through, though, I realized something wasn't right. The size was completely wrong—this wasn't my boyfriend. Chapter 1 I reached down and felt a set of eight-pack abs. Definitely not my boyfriend. He only had one. Instantly, I snapped out of it, desire vanishing in a heartbeat. The man beneath me felt me freeze. He lifted his head, voice husky. "Why'd you stop?" That voice confirmed it—I'd definitely crawled into the wrong bed. In the faint moonlight, I caught a look at his face. Really handsome. Still, I pushed him off. "You—you're not my boyfriend!" He let out a low chuckle. "We've already started. Might as well finish?" "No… no thanks." Mortified, I wanted to disappear into the floor. I fumbled for my scattered clothes, threw them on, scrambled off the bunk, turned on my phone's flashlight, and bolted back to my own bed. My name was Anna Fletcher. I'd been with my boyfriend for three years, and he was taking me home to meet his parents for the New Year. After a trip to the bathroom, I'd suddenly felt like surprising him, so I climbed into his bunk. Didn't expect such an epic mix-up. Back in my own bed, I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. My mind kept replaying the image of that stranger—his toned body, that certain hardness. This wouldn't do. I needed a cigarette to calm down. I threw on a jacket and headed toward the smoking area. Passing the restroom, I caught a faint sound—uneven, heavy breathing. The door wasn't fully shut, so I peered through the gap. Inside, a man was pleasuring himself. His hand moved fast, his face flushed, sweat beading on his forehead. Naked, his abs stood out sharply, glistening, radiating raw masculinity. When I saw his face, I slapped a hand over my mouth. It was the man I'd kissed. My eyes widened, glued to the scene. What I saw was so… imposing that I couldn't look away. My elbow accidentally nudged the door, making a soft thud. "Who's there?" I turned and ran. Safe back in my bunk, I finally let out a breath. Thank God the lights were off. If he'd seen me, I'd be mortified. Climbing into the wrong bed, then getting caught peeping—he'd definitely think I was some kind of pervert. Maybe it was all the excitement, but I was suddenly exhausted. I fell asleep quickly. What I didn't expect was a wet dream. And the male lead? The stranger I'd kissed. 'Seriously?' I cursed myself. 'You've got it bad—having fantasies about a guy you just met.' After we got off the train, my boyfriend took me to the local famous food street for some specialty snacks. It wasn't until evening that we finally arrived at his family's home. During the train ride, he opened up a bit about his family — it was actually the first time he'd ever brought them up. He told me his mom left when he was little because she thought his dad was too poor, and she ran off with someone else. So his dad raised him all on his own. He said his dad was a gentle, loving father who worked his ass off to give him a good life — doing all kinds of grunt work, no matter how tough or dirty. Luckily, his dad later caught the internet wave and went from rags to riches practically overnight. Now he was the kind of guy who was always showing up on the covers of financial magazines — a real success story. And then, right in the middle of telling me all this, my boyfriend started crying. At first, I thought it was because he missed having a mom, but that wasn't it at all. He said his dad has always had a pretty high sex drive, and when he was growing up, his dad would often bring women home. So he found out about sex way earlier than most kids — by sixth grade, he'd already figured out how to masturbate. He told me he'd always felt like some kind of pervert, and that he was so grateful I didn't judge him for it, and that he loved me so much. I wiped his tears and thought to myself, 'He's so silly but sweet.' Then he dropped some gossip about his dad. He leaned in and whispered, "You know what they call him behind his back?" I shook my head again. "Big Dick," he said with a little smirk. "And honestly? It's not just a nickname — he's seriously packing." My face went red. Unbidden images flooded my mind. A strong, experienced man… the women who were with him… would they have a more wonderful experience? My boyfriend asked if I was excited to meet his dad. I blushed and nodded, but I didn't dare tell him exactly how I was imagining his father. Chapter 2 I arrived at my boyfriend's house with him, carrying a New Year's gift box in hand. The moment I saw his father, my mind went blank. Because I realized—he was the man on the train whose bed I had crawled into by mistake. I couldn't believe the world could serve up such a ludicrous coincidence. I stood there, thunderstruck, frozen in place. I even forgot to greet him. My boyfriend had to nudge me. His father extended his hand for a handshake. Steeling myself, I reached out too. His rough palm wrapped around my small hand, giving it a brief, friendly squeeze. I flushed bright red. The moment I remembered the disaster I'd caused the night before, I wished I could move to another planet. Luckily, I noticed nothing unusual in his expression—clearly, he hadn't recognized me. On the train, I'd only thought he was handsome, but I hadn't really seen his face. Now, looking closely, my boyfriend didn't even come close. Because his father was breathtakingly, stunningly handsome. Tall and broad-shouldered, with a narrow waist, his impeccably tailored suit exuded elegance and refinement. Though over forty, he must be very disciplined—his figure was still in excellent shape. Every inch of him radiated the charm and poise of a mature man. As I stared, my thoughts began to wander somewhere they shouldn't. I mentally slapped myself. What a horny girl I was, daring to think such things. This was my boyfriend's father, after all. Dinner came soon enough. My boyfriend and I sat together, with his father across from us. At the table, I hunched over my food like a timid quail, pretending to be calm on the surface while inwardly writhing in agony. I was terrified he might remember something. Thankfully, he only asked me basic questions—whether my parents were still alive, what they did for work. I breathed a sigh of relief. But then, he pushed a glass of milk and a plate of sausage toward me. "You must like these," he said. "Go ahead and enjoy them this time." Hmm? What did that mean? For a moment, the atmosphere turned awkward. No way. Had he already recognized me? I cautiously lifted my gaze and found him looking back at me, the corner of his mouth curled into a knowing smile. Terrified, I dropped my head and tried to brainwash myself: It was probably just a normal expression. Besides, it had been so dark back then—he definitely hadn't seen clearly. But the very next second, I was proven wrong. Under the tablecloth, I felt a foot idly brushing against my bare ankle. I tugged my skirt down. His foot simply lifted it and continued its mischief. I looked up and found his predatory gaze fixed on me without the slightest hint of restraint. I shot him a warning look with my eyes. But instead of backing off, he grew bolder, catching the hem of my skirt and tugging—slowly, deliberately, with increasing force. I was wearing an off-the-shoulder dress. With each tug, the strap slipped a little further down. The curve of my chest trembled with the movement of the fabric. I was so tense I thought the dress might fall off at any moment. Fortunately, the prank stopped just before the point of no return. The moment I exhaled in relief, his foot went straight for the core. A jolt shot through my entire body. I instinctively clamped my legs together, and because I was so sensitive, a soft whimper escaped my lips. My boyfriend noticed and looked at me with concern. Face burning, I stammered, "N-nothing." My boyfriend's father's foot kept stirring in the darkness, unleashing an unbearable wave of itchiness. I gripped the table leg, trying my hardest to endure, but my body trembled uncontrollably—until I completely lost it. I scrambled to my feet, muttered, "Bathroom," and fled in humiliation. Inside the bathroom, I peeled off my damp underwear. Just as I was about to wash it, the door swung open. I turned in terror—and saw my boyfriend's father. Before I could react, my feet left the floor. He lifted me and set me on the sink counter. Bracing his hands on either side of me, he stared straight into my eyes. His gaze made me uneasy. "Mr. Parker… what… what are you doing?" "What am I doing?" He leaned closer, a roguish smirk playing on his lips. "Weren't you seducing me?" I shook my head. "N-No." "No?" He echoed my words. "You did it on purpose on the train too, didn't you?" So he had recognized me all along. "No…" I started to explain, but his lips were already hovering over mine. Terrified, I pushed against him. "We can't. I'm Max's girlfriend. I might even be your future daughter-in-law." "I know," he said, his voice low and husky. "But in our family, there's a tradition. Before marriage, the bride must pass the father-in-law's trial." My eyes widened in horror. My voice cracked with tears. "Mr. Parker, please, really, we can't. Please let me go…" But he ignored my pleas. Ruthlessly, he pinned me against the mirror, holding me in place. Then, with his knee, he forcibly pushed my legs apart...