Carrying the Beast Child

“Lisandro…” I whimpered his name, desperation bleeding through my voice.

I never imagined that a tongue could make me feel like this—like I was unraveling, spiraling into a heaven I didn’t know existed. I couldn’t name this unfamiliar heat crawling under my skin, but it consumed me.

Who would've thought that just his tongue could reduce me to a trembling mess, whimpering helplessly under him?

My back arched as my eyes fluttered shut, the cityscape stretching far below us, forgotten. My legs grew weaker with each slow, deliberate flick of his tongue. He devoured me like he owned me, licking and kissing every inch of my soaked, sensitive flesh with the same hunger he might kiss my lips—with reverence and ruin in every movement.

His eyes remained shut, brows furrowed in deep focus, like he was lost in the taste of me. My body trembled as pleasure shattered through me. I came undone beneath him.

Then he rose.

Without a word, he seized my lips in a kiss so harsh it stole the breath from my lungs.

There was no gentleness.

His mouth claimed mine, rough and punishing, bruising my lips until they ached, until I could taste a hint of iron on my tongue.

But he didn’t stop.

He kissed like he was furious—with me, with himself—I didn’t know.

All I knew was that he wanted to mark me, to drown me in him.

And I let him.

When he finally pulled away, I gasped for air. His eyes were darker than I’d ever seen them, burning with lust—but beneath it, something colder flickered. Disdain? Disgust? I couldn’t tell. It made my chest tighten.

He unbuckled his black belt with a slow, deliberate pull—metal clinking in the silence like a warning. His pants dropped to the floor, followed by his boxers.

And then I saw him.

His cock sprang free—thick, veined, and heavy.

Even semi-hard, it looked impossibly large—long, wide at the base, the flushed head already glistening with arousal. The skin was taut, the shaft ridged with veins, twitching slightly as it began to grow in full.

It looked angry.

And hungry.

I swallowed hard.

I’m petite.

A virgin.

There’s no way that madness will fit inside me.

Not all of it.

Not without breaking something.

But the way he looked at me—possessive, commanding—I knew one thing:

He was going to try anyway.

From this distance, I could guess—eight or nine inches, at least. Thick, long, and veined like it was made to ruin. I swallowed, feeling my throat dry out and sweat bead at the edge of my forehead.

Lisandro Giovell Constanzo stood completely naked in front of me.

His silhouette was bathed in golden light from the city behind him, but he didn’t care. He made no effort to hide himself. His cock stood hard and proud between us, and he held himself like a man who knew exactly what kind of destruction he was capable of.

He was beautiful in a way that was almost cruel. His medium tan skin glowed under the dim lighting, every muscle sculpted, defined.

He looked like sin.

Brown hair tousled carelessly, thick brows drawn low over those dangerous hazel eyes—eyes that looked at me like I was prey. His jawline was sharp, nose perfectly defined, lips naturally red with a bow shape that could look soft… if he ever let them. A thin scar above his eyebrow hinted at a past that wasn’t gentle.

Tall. Dark. And merciless.

Lisandro wasn’t just a man. He was a warning.

"Open your legs, Stella," he said, voice deep and rasped with restrained fury.

I hesitated, my body trembling as I obeyed—slowly parting my thighs. But it wasn’t enough for him.

His jaw flexed. His patience snapped.

"I said open your damn legs."

He grabbed my thighs roughly and forced them apart—wide—until my hips ached and my breath hitched in shock.

He stepped between them without a word. No softness. No warning. Just raw, masculine power.

Then—he drove into me.

A choked cry tore from my throat. The sudden stretch burned. It felt like I was being split in two. My nails scraped against the wood beneath me as pain shot through my body.

He didn’t stop. Didn’t give me a second to breathe.

He began to thrust into me—brutally, deeply, relentlessly. His cock hit places inside me I didn’t know existed. I gasped, legs shaking, eyes wide and wet with tears.

He leaned forward, watching me fall apart beneath him.

"Are you crying?" he asked coldly.

His voice was cruel. Detached.

But beneath the surface, there was something darker. Something dangerous.

"Why, Stella? Isn’t this what you wanted?" His hand gripped my jaw, forcing me to look at him. "You begged for this. You threw yourself at me like a desperate little slut. I never made you. You offered yourself to me."

My tears slid down freely now, mixing pain, pleasure, and shame.

"Now that I’m inside you—owning you—you decide to cry?" His laugh was low and dark

"You wanted the beast, Stella. You’ve got him now."

He leaned in, his breath ghosting across my cheek.

"You knew I was poison the moment you saw me. But you drank anyway."

His thrusts slowed, deeper now, crueler. He filled me to the brim, grinding into me as though he wanted to leave a part of himself inside me forever.

Then his hand came up again—his thumb brushing my bottom lip, dragging it down until I was panting against it.

"Do you know how you look right now?" 

His voice dropped to a cold whisper against my ear, sharp enough to cut through me.

"You look like a fucking whore—a low-class whore who’ll throw herself at any older man without a second thought. A desperate bitch, that’s what you are, Stella Kaysyee Vasco." His words stabbed straight into my heart, relentless. "You’re not even half the woman I’ve fucked; you’re average. Nothing special."

That cruel insult sparked an unfamiliar fire inside me. The ache twisted into something darker, more intense. A moan slipped past my lips before I could stop it. I arched into him, desperate for more. My fingers tangled in his hair, pulling and combing through it as he mercilessly drove into me harder, faster. Each rough thrust was a savage claim, nails digging deep into his broad back, scraping and clawing until my skin burned.

My knees trembled, legs shaking under the weight of his power. The warmth inside me spilled over uncontrollably. I gasped for breath, every muscle trembling, convinced it was over. But it wasn’t.

He lifted me off the table and turned me to face the sprawling city lights—my naked body exposed and vulnerable beneath the night sky. His gaze caught mine in the glass, dark and ruthless.

“Why? Embarrassed?” 

His voice was a low taunt. I couldn’t answer. My body was drained, my strength spent from what we’d just done. I was mute, helpless.

“Let everyone see how desperate you are, Stella,” he growled. “Let them see what hides behind that innocent face—a desperate, obsessive bitch who’ll do whatever it takes to get what she wants.”

Without warning, he thrust inside me again—rough, demanding. I watched our reflection in the glass, his muscles flexing with every brutal motion, a beast fucking his prey mercilessly. His jaw clenched tight, veins bulging on his neck as he yanked my hair harshly, forcing a moan from my lips.

“Lisandro…” I whimpered his name weakly.

“Fuck,” he snarled in my ear.

“I’m going to wreck you, Stella. Break you down until you’re sore, until you can’t even walk.”

“Until your body’s numb from my touch—until you beg me to stop. I won’t show you an ounce of mercy.”

His raspy voice thundered in my ear as he picked up his pace, breath hot against my skin.

My own voice felt foreign, fragile beneath his brutal assault. His fingers toyed with me relentlessly, each stroke sending jolts through my body. My knees gave out, trembling as he yanked my hair harder and gripped my waist like a man claiming territory. The sounds of skin meeting skin filled the room—the rhythm of our bodies colliding in wild, desperate need.

Together, we chased our heavy breaths, crashing over the edge in a shattering release—him spilling deep inside me, warm and unstoppable.

Afterwards, under the harsh city light and again in the privacy of our bed, he fucked me until I was numb, until the soreness inside me was a dull echo beneath the raw ache.

“You know I wouldn’t even let my fingers touch you,” he spat coldly once we were done. “That’s how disgusted I am with you.”

“If it weren’t for the child I need from you, I wouldn’t touch you—not here, not ever, Stella. Don’t delude yourself—you’re nothing. Not compared to my wife.”

“Nandito ka lang, Stella. Para ipagbuntis mo ang anak ko,” he said flatly, sliding his pants up with deliberate, unhurried ease—as if every movement was a command.

“Y-You’re leaving?” The bitterness in my voice cracked like a broken mirror.

He tilted his head, eyes sharp and laced with cruel amusement. “Aalis ka na agad? What, you expect me to stay here and cuddle after that? After I took what I wanted from you?”

His voice dropped low, venom dripping from every word. “Let me make it crystal clear: we only had sex because I needed a child. You threw yourself at me like a desperate whore. Don’t mistake my need for you as anything but business. I want you pregnant, nothing more.” His gaze pierced through me like a blade. “Gusto ko lang mapaaga ang pagbubuntis mo.”

He turned fully, shadows casting sharper angles on his face, the darkness in his eyes swallowing every shred of softness. “Nang sa ganoon, wala na tayong dahilan para magkita pa. I can’t stand the obsession—you’re pathetic, Stella. I’m disgusted by you.”

Slowly, methodically, he buttoned his black long sleeve shirt, leaving the top buttons undone to reveal the ink sprawling across his chest—a permanent mark of ownership and danger. The tattoo seemed to crawl with menace beneath the dim light.

“You disgust me, Stella. You’re nothing but filth beneath my skin.” His voice was colder than the darkest winter, a final, merciless verdict before he strode out without a backward glance.

“Don’t mistake what I give you for mercy or kindness. I don’t do softness—I break, I take, and I own.”

“You belong to me now, whether you like it or not. I’ll drag you through hell and back until you scream mercy. But mercy is a luxury I don’t afford.”

“I’m not here to love you. I’m here to own every inch of you—body, mind, soul. I won’t stop until every part of you is mine, twisted and claimed.”

“Cry all you want. Your tears fuel the fire burning inside me. The beast you awakened is starving, and you’re its prey.”

“I show no mercy. Mercy is for the weak. You wanted the monster? Now live with the beast.”

“I’ll ruin you, Stella. Not out of hate, but because you begged me to. I take what I want—and I never apologize.”

His words cut deeper than any blade, and no matter how I tried, I couldn’t stop the tears from falling.

He was right.

I was desperate.

I threw myself at the beast the moment I found out his wife couldn’t bear him a child.

I offered myself as prey—craving even the slightest piece of him.

Lisandro Giovell Constanzo is thirty-five, ruthless, a predator in the skin of a man. He rules with cruelty and cold command.

And I’m caught in his dark orbit, helpless and obsessed.

The door slammed behind him, the echo lingering like a curse in the empty room. My body trembled—not from the cold, but from the storm raging inside me.

I hated him. I hated how he stripped me down—not just physically, but every piece of my soul. Yet beneath the hate, something darker twisted—an obsession I couldn’t escape.

Lisandro didn’t want me. He never did. I was nothing but a means to an end, a tool for his legacy. And still, my heart betrayed me, aching for the monster who tore me apart with words sharper than knives.

His presence haunted every corner of the room, a shadow that refused to fade.

I was his—marked by his cruelty, chained to his ruthless desire.

And no matter how much I told myself to run, I knew deep down, I was already lost.

Lost to the beast.

Lost to Lisandro.