His Heir, His Sin, His Obsession (SPG)

Prologue 

Ang malakas na bass ng musika ay parang tibok ng puso ni Isabella Reyes habang nakatayo siya sa gitna ng rooftop party sa Makati. Hindi siya sanay sa ganito—mga taong nakasuot ng designer clothes, champagne na parang tubig lang ang agos, at mga ngiti na puno ng plastic. Ang boss niya, si Mr. Santos, ang nag-insist na sumama siya bilang “plus one” kasi biglang nag-cancel ang date nito. Overtime pay daw. Para sa isang 28-anyos na sekretarya na halos isang kahig-isang tuka, mahirap tumanggi.

Suot niya ang borrowed little black dress na medyo masikip sa curvy niyang katawan—hugging her full breasts, narrow waist, at rounded hips. Her long black hair cascaded in loose waves down her back, at ang mapupungay niyang mata ay sinusubukan niyang ilihim sa likod ng ngiti. Maraming nakatingin, mga lalaki na hindi nagtatago ng interest, pero pinabayaan niya. Uminom lang siya ng champagne nang dahan-dahan, bilang ang oras hanggang makauwi na siya sa maliit niyang apartment.

Hanggang sa makita niya siya.

Nakatayo sa kabilang dulo ng rooftop, parang hari ng gabi. Matangkad, malapad ang balikat, suot ang black suit na perfect fit sa muscular body niya. Slicked back ang dark hair, at may intensity sa mga mata na kahit malayo, ramdam na ramdam. May tattoos na nakasilip sa collar at cuffs—marks of danger na nagpapakaba at nagpapahumaling nang sabay.

Marcus Villanueva. Sino bang hindi kilala? CEO ng Villanueva Empire. Billionaire. Ruthless. At ayon sa chismis sa office, may mas madilim na mundo sa likod ng business niya—mafia ties daw, pero walang proof.

Their eyes locked.

Parang may kuryente na tumakbo sa katawan ni Isabella. Hindi siya makagalaw. He didn’t smile, pero may pull sa tingin niya—dark, hungry, na parang hinahila siya palapit. Kinabahan siya, pero hindi sa takot. May something else. Attraction na matindi, na nagpapainit sa balat niya.

“Miss Reyes?” Biglang may lumapit na lalaki sa tabi niya—isa sa mga executives. “Secretary ka ni Mr. Santos, di ba?”

“Opo,” sagot niya, pilit na ngumiti habang sinusubukan iwasan ang tingin kay Marcus. Pero hindi niya kaya. He was still staring, like a predator.

The executive kept talking about office gossip, pero wala siyang narinig. All she felt was that burning gaze on her skin, tracing her curves.

Then he moved.

Diretso si Marcus palapit sa kanya. The crowd parted automatically, parang takot o respeto—o both. Nang makarating siya, the executive suddenly excused himself, natatakot yata. Natira silang dalawa.

“Enjoying the party?” tanong niya, voice deep and low, may hint ng amusement na nagpapakilig.

“Hindi po talaga ako party person,” sagot ni Isabella, trying to stay calm. Pero ang tibok ng puso niya, parang drum. Up close, mas lalong nakita—sharp jawline, dark eyes na parang nakakabasa ng kaluluwa, at ang amoy niya… masculine, expensive, dangerous.

“Then why are you here?” He stepped closer. Too close. Ramdam niya ang init ng katawan niya.

“Trabaho lang. Plus one ng boss ko.”

He smirked. “Good taste siya.”

Namula si Isabella. “Po?”

“Sa pagpili ng date.” His eyes slowly traveled down her body, unapologetic, lingering on her cleavage. “You look… breathtaking.”

Hindi siya nakapagsalita. Never pa siyang nakaramdam ng ganitong intensity. Parang hinuhubaran siya ng tingin niya, at surprisingly, gusto niya.

They talked. Well, he asked, she answered. About work, about her simple life (she kept it vague), about why a beautiful woman like her was still single after all those betrayals from exes. Every word felt like a touch, intimate.

Nang mag-offer siya ng another drink, tumango siya. Then another. The alcohol loosened everything—her inhibitions, her guard. His light touches—sa arm, sa lower back—sent sparks everywhere, making her thighs clench.

“I want to leave,” bulong niya sa tenga niya, voice husky and commanding. “With you.”

Her breath caught. This was insane. She didn’t do one-night stands. Pero ang mga mata niya… ang haplos… she was already lost, wet just from his proximity.

“Okay,” she whispered, voice trembling with want.

He took her hand—firm, possessive—led her to the private elevator. Sa loob, hindi na siya nakapagpigil. He pinned her against the wall, mouth crashing into hers. The kiss was fire—hungry, demanding, tongue invading her mouth like he owned it.

His hands roamed—sa bewang, sa hips, pulling her flush against his hard body. She felt his erection pressing against her stomach, thick and insistent. She moaned into his mouth, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer.

The elevator opened to his penthouse suite—luxurious, dark, commanding like him. He carried her inside, lips never leaving hers, kicking the door shut.

Clothes flew off in frenzy. Her dress pooled on the floor, revealing black lace lingerie. His shirt revealed tattoos covering his toned chest, arms—dark intricate designs mixed with old scars. She traced them with trembling fingers, kissing one on his pec.

He growled, pushing her against the wall, mouth on her neck, sucking hard enough to leave marks. His hand cupped her breast, thumb teasing her nipple through lace until it hardened.

He laid her on the massive bed, eyes black with desire. “Tonight, you’re mine,” he growled, voice rough.

And she surrendered completely.

His mouth explored her—neck, collarbone, ripping off her bra to suck on her breasts. He teased her nipples with tongue and teeth until she was writhing, begging. “Marcus… please…”

His hand slid between her thighs, finding her soaked panties. “So wet for me already,” he murmured, pushing the fabric aside, fingers sliding inside her tight heat—slow at first, then faster, curling to hit that spot.

She gasped, hips bucking wildly. “Oh God… Marcus!”

He chuckled darkly, adding a third finger, stretching her. Then he removed them, making her whine.

He stripped fully, revealing his huge cock—thick, veined, throbbing. She licked her lips unconsciously.

Then he was on top, entering her in one deep, powerful thrust.

The pleasure was overwhelming. He filled her completely, stretching her deliciously. They moved together—rough, urgent, no holding back. Skin slapping skin, moans and grunts echoing.

He flipped her over, taking her from behind, hand fisted in her hair, pulling her head back. “Say my name,” he commanded, thrusting harder.

“Marcus! Fuck… Marcus!” she cried as orgasm shattered her.

He followed, groaning deeply, spilling hot inside her.

They didn’t stop—again on the bed, her riding him; against the window overlooking the city lights; in the shower, water cascading as he took her standing.

Hours of pure, sinful ecstasy until they collapsed, bodies entangled, exhausted.

She fell asleep in his strong arms, feeling strangely safe.

Morning came too soon.

Nagising si Isabella na mag-isa. The bed was cold beside her. His scent lingered on the sheets, but he was gone.

On the pillow, a handwritten note:

“This was a mistake.  

Don’t expect anything more.  

- M”

Her chest tightened painfully. Tears welled up as she dressed quickly, body still aching deliciously from last night.

A mistake? After everything?

She left the suite with head down, heart heavy, not knowing that sinful night had already conceived the heirs that would bind them forever.