I'll fuck you like you've never been fucked.

Alexander's POV

I drained the last of my scotch, the amber liquid burning a path down my throat, but it did fuck all to douse the inferno raging inside me. Isabella's screams from earlier that night still lingered in my ears like a fading echo—raw, desperate, the kind that made my cock throb with satisfaction. But it was temporary, always temporary. Sex wasn't just a vice for me; it was my goddamn lifeline. Without the rush of dominating a woman, pinning her down and fucking her until she shattered, the world lost its edge. Colors dulled, deals felt meaningless, and that hollow ache in my chest threatened to swallow me whole. I'd built Voss Enterprises into a billion-dollar empire on sheer willpower and cunning, but this obsession? It kept me alive, feeding the beast that clawed at my insides day and night.

Tonight's conquest with Isabella had been laced with the sweet tang of revenge—fucking my enemy's wife until she begged for more, her body marked with my handprints and bites. Marcus Blackwood would never know, or maybe he would; the thought sent a dark thrill through me. But as I sat in my penthouse, staring out at the glittering skyline of the city I owned, my phone buzzed with a security alert. Motion detected on the 40th floor after hours. I pulled up the feed on my tablet, and there she was: Elena Hayes, my newest intern in marketing, bent over her desk like a sacrificial offering. The camera angle caught her perfectly—young, fresh, with that air of untouched purity that made my blood run hot.

I'd noticed her during orientation a week ago. Early twenties, maybe twenty-three at most, with auburn hair that cascaded in waves when she let it down, and hazel eyes that sparkled with a mix of ambition and fear. Her resume screamed overachiever: top of her class, multiple internships, but buried in the background check was the real story—her mother dying of stage-four cancer, bills piling up like a noose. Desperation clung to her like perfume, and fuck, it was intoxicating. She wasn't like the polished socialites or the eager secretaries I'd bedded before. No, Elena had that rare blend of innocence and fire, the kind I craved to corrupt. My cock stirred just watching her on the screen, her fingers tapping furiously at the keyboard, oblivious to the predator closing in.

The message from security confirmed it: she was pulling an all-nighter on the quarterly projections I'd demanded by morning. Dedication? Or desperation? Either way, it was an opportunity I couldn't ignore. The hunger surged back, sharper than before, insistent. Isabella had been a appetizer; Elena could be the main course. I tossed the empty glass aside, grabbed my keys, and headed out. The night air was crisp as I slid into my Aston Martin Vanquish, the engine purring to life like a beast awakening. I floored it through the empty streets, the city lights blurring into streaks, my mind already painting vivid pictures: her on her knees, those full lips stretched around me; her bent over the desk, screaming as I claimed her from behind.

The underground garage at Voss Enterprises was deserted, the echo of my footsteps amplifying the anticipation. I took the executive elevator straight to the 40th floor, the ride smooth and silent, giving me time to compose myself. Control was my weapon—always had been. I'd charm her first, dangle the carrot of financial salvation, then strike when her defenses cracked. The doors opened to a dimly lit floor, the hum of overhead lights and the faint whir of a distant air conditioner the only sounds. Most cubicles were dark, shadows pooling like ink, but her corner glowed with the soft blue light of her monitor.

I approached quietly, my Italian leather shoes muffling my steps on the industrial carpet. She was immersed, her back to me, shoulders tense under a simple white blouse that hugged her figure just enough to tease. Her skirt, knee-length and professional, rode up slightly as she shifted, revealing a glimpse of smooth thigh. My mouth watered. She didn't notice me until I was right behind her, close enough to inhale her scent—lavender shampoo mixed with the subtle musk of a long day.

She jumped when I cleared my throat, spinning in her chair with a gasp. "Mr. Voss! Oh God, you scared me. I—I'm sorry, I didn't think anyone else was here." Her voice was breathy, laced with surprise, and those hazel eyes—flecked with gold, just as I'd imagined—locked onto mine. She stood abruptly, smoothing her skirt with nervous hands, but the motion only accentuated her curves: pert breasts straining against the fabric, hips flaring invitingly. Her cheeks flushed a delicate pink, and she bit her lower lip—a habit that sent a jolt straight to my groin.

"No need to apologize, Elena," I replied, my voice low and velvety, the one I used in boardrooms to seal deals... or in bedrooms to seal fates. I leaned casually against the cubicle wall, towering over her at six-foot-three, my tailored suit doing little to hide the muscled frame beneath. I let my gaze linger, appraising her openly, watching her pulse flutter at her neck. "Burning the midnight oil? Impressive. Most interns would have clocked out hours ago."

She swallowed hard, her eyes darting away before meeting mine again. "I... yes, sir. The projections you asked for—they're almost done. I just wanted to make sure everything was perfect." There was a tremor in her words, a vulnerability that made my cock twitch. She was trying so hard to impress, to hold it together.

I stepped closer, invading her personal space just enough to make her breath hitch. "Perfection is admirable. But at what cost? You look exhausted." My hand brushed her arm lightly, a feigned gesture of concern, but I felt the goosebumps rise on her skin. "Tell me, what's driving you so hard? Family? Ambition?"

She hesitated, her lips parting as if debating how much to reveal. "It's... my mother, sir. She's sick. Cancer. The treatments are expensive, and I can't afford to lose this internship. It's my only shot." Her voice cracked on the last word, eyes glistening with unshed tears. Fuck, that raw honesty—it was like waving a red flag at a bull. Desperation was my kryptonite, turning the hunt into something primal.

I nodded sympathetically, but inside, the beast roared. "Cancer. A cruel thief. I've lost people to it myself." A lie, but it softened her gaze. I moved even closer, my hand now resting on her shoulder, thumb tracing a slow circle. "Money shouldn't stand between life and death. I could help, you know. Voss Enterprises has resources—grants, funds. But loyalty... that earns special favors."

Her eyes widened, a mix of hope and wariness flickering across her face. "Help? What do you mean, Mr. Voss?"

"Call me Alexander," I purred, my free hand tilting her chin up, forcing her to meet my piercing blue eyes. "I mean relief from those bills. Every cent covered—treatments, care, even luxuries for your mother. In return..." I let the words hang, my thumb brushing her lower lip, feeling it quiver. "You give me what I need. Your time. Your... attention. Whenever I desire it."

She froze, processing, then her cheeks blazed red. "Attention? You mean... oh God, no. That's not— I won't—" But her body betrayed her; I saw her nipples pebble under the thin blouse, her thighs pressing together subtly.

I chuckled darkly, stepping fully into her space, my body heat enveloping her. "Don't play coy, Elena. I see the way you look at me in meetings—the curiosity, the spark. Your body wants this." My hands slid to her waist, gripping firmly, lifting her effortlessly onto the desk. Papers fluttered to the floor like confetti, a keyboard clattering aside. I wedged myself between her thighs, my rock-hard erection pressing against her core through our clothes, the friction electric. She gasped, her hands flying to my chest—not pushing yet, just resting there, feeling my heartbeat thunder.

"Mr. Voss—Alexander—stop! This is insane," she stammered, but her voice lacked conviction, her hips shifting involuntarily against me.

"Feel that?" I growled, grinding harder, letting her feel every inch of my throbbing length. "That's power. Pleasure. Salvation. I'll fuck you like you've never been fucked—rough, deep, until you scream my name and forget every worry. Say yes, Elena. Let me own you, body and soul."

That's when it snapped. Her eyes flashed with fury, and she shoved me hard—both palms slamming into my chest with surprising force. I staggered back a step, more from shock than impact, my hands releasing her waist. "You pervert!" she hissed, sliding off the desk, her chest heaving. "How dare you? I'm not some whore you can buy! Get away from me!"

The word "pervert" hung in the air like a slap, but instead of anger, it ignited me further. Feisty. Resistant. God, that made the chase even sweeter. I straightened, a slow, predatory smile curling my lips. "Pervert? Maybe. But honest. You need money; I need... release. It's a fair trade in a world that's anything but."

She backed up, grabbing her bag from the chair, her hands trembling. "Fair? This is harassment! I could report you—ruin you!"

I laughed, low and menacing, advancing slowly. "Report me? To whom? I own this company, Elena. Every HR rep, every lawyer—they answer to me. But I don't force anyone. I offer. And deep down, you want it. I saw how your body responded—wet, ready, even as you push me away."

Her face twisted in outrage, but there was a flicker of doubt, of temptation. "You're delusional. I'm leaving. And I'm quitting first thing tomorrow."

She turned to go, but I caught her wrist gently—not hard enough to bruise, but firm enough to halt her. "Wait. Hear me out. No games. Your mother's life hangs in the balance. One million dollars, wired tomorrow. For one month of your... companionship. No strings after. Think about it."

She yanked her arm free, glaring daggers. "Companionship? You mean being your fuck toy. No. I'd rather beg on the streets."