Yes, own me! Cum inside me!

Alexander's POV

I paced the expanse of my penthouse like a caged panther, the city skyline mocking me through the floor-to-ceiling windows—a glittering kingdom I ruled with an iron fist, yet here I was, unraveling over one insignificant intern. Elena Hayes. Her name slithered through my mind like a forbidden incantation, sending a jolt straight to my cock, hardening it instantly with the memory of her pressed against my desk earlier that day. Those wide, defiant eyes flashing fire even as her body yielded, soft and trembling under my unyielding grip. I'd felt her heat radiating through our clothes, the way her hips instinctively bucked when I ground my throbbing erection into her, her breathy gasp betraying the slick wetness I knew was pooling between her thighs, soaking her panties. Fuck, she was a virgin cocktail of innocence and desperation—untouched, unclaimed, and ripe for the taking if she'd just submit to the beast inside me.

But she'd stormed out, spitting venom about not being for sale, her voice trembling with a mix of outrage and something deeper, something hungry. As if I hadn't seen the flicker of lust in her gaze, the way her nipples pebbled against her thin blouse, begging for my teeth. I poured myself a scotch, the amber liquid swirling in the crystal glass before I knocked it back, the burn down my throat doing nothing to quench the fire raging in my veins. Sex was my diet, my oxygen—without it, the void crept in, hollowing me out from the inside like a starving animal. I'd fucked countless women to fill that abyss: the enemy's wife, Isabella, her screams echoing through my penthouse suite as I pounded her into oblivion, marking her creamy skin with bites and bruises while imagining Marcus's face crumbling if he ever found out. "Alexander, yes! Fuck me harder, you bastard!" she'd screamed, her nails raking down my back as I choked her just enough to make her eyes roll back, thrusting deep until her pussy clenched around me like a vice, milking every drop of my vengeful cum. Or the actress the night before, bound and blindfolded on my yacht, her perfect ass glowing red from my palm as I spanked her relentlessly, her whimpers turning to hoarse cries—"Please, sir, punish me more!"—before I rammed into her from behind, her body shaking with forced orgasms that fed my insatiable beast. But Elena? She was different. One accidental brush of her skin against mine, and I was obsessed, craving not just her body but the exquisite challenge of breaking her spirit, owning her screams like a symphony composed for my ears alone.

I glanced at my phone for the tenth time—nothing. Had I pushed too far with my proposition? It was straightforward, brutally honest: one million dollars wired immediately to erase her mother's crippling debts, unlimited access to the best medical care money could buy—private jets to specialists, experimental treatments, whatever it took. In exchange? Her complete surrender. Thirty days of her as my personal feast—rough, unrelenting, my cock buried in her tight heat whenever the hunger struck, no matter where or how. I'd fuck her senseless: pin her down on silk sheets and devour her pussy with my tongue until she begged for mercy; spank her until tears streamed down her flushed cheeks and she arched her back for more, her ass blooming with my handprints; choke her slender neck just right as I slammed into her from behind, her walls clenching in sinful ecstasy around my shaft. No emotions, no strings—just pure, depraved nourishment to keep my demons sated. But deep down, I knew it was a lie—this craving for her was deeper, a sinful lust that made my legendary control slip, visions of her haunting me even now, twisting my thoughts into something darker, more possessive.

Sinking into the plush leather armchair, I unzipped my pants with deliberate slowness, freeing my throbbing length from its confines. It sprang out, rock-hard and veined, pulsing angrily in my hand as pre-cum beaded at the tip. I stroked slowly at first, savoring the friction, my mind painting vivid, sick fantasies of Elena. I imagined her standing before me in my penthouse, her modest office dress clinging to her curves like a second skin. "Strip for me, Elena," I'd command, my voice low and gravelly, laced with authority. She'd hesitate, her cheeks burning crimson, but her eyes—those innocent doe eyes—would betray her arousal, pupils dilating as she reached for the zipper. Inch by inch, the fabric would slide down, revealing her flawless body: full, perky breasts with rosy nipples hardening in the cool air, begging for my mouth; a narrow waist flaring into hips made for my bruising grip; and between her thighs, a neatly trimmed pussy, already glistening with her shameful desire. Naked and vulnerable, she'd stand there, trembling, her skin flushing under my predatory stare. "Touch yourself," I'd growl, and she'd obey, her fingers dipping into her folds, circling her clit with soft whimpers—"Like this, Alexander? For you?"—her juices coating her hand as she brought herself to the edge, but I'd stop her, because that pleasure was mine to give, mine to control.

Fuck, the thought made me stroke faster, my grip tightening as I envisioned pulling her to her knees. "Open your mouth, little one," I'd order, tangling my fingers in her silky hair, guiding her lips to my cock. She'd part them hesitantly, her tongue darting out to taste the salt of my pre-cum, and then I'd thrust forward, filling her warm, wet mouth inch by inch. Her eyes would water as I hit the back of her throat, her gags muffled around my thickness, but she'd learn—sucking eagerly, her cheeks hollowing as she bobbed, her hands cupping my balls, squeezing just right. "That's it, suck me like the good girl you are," I'd groan, face-fucking her with increasing brutality, her saliva dripping down her chin, mixing with tears of effort and ecstasy. She'd moan around me, the vibrations sending shocks through my shaft, her own hand sneaking between her legs to rub her clit, desperate for relief as I used her mouth like a toy.

But I wouldn't stop there—in my twisted imagination, I'd yank her up by the hair, her lips swollen and glistening, and throw her onto the bed. "Spread your legs," I'd demand, and she'd comply, her pussy exposed, pink and swollen, dripping onto the sheets. I'd dive in first with my tongue, lapping at her like a starving man, sucking her clit between my teeth until she screamed—"Oh God, Alexander! Don't stop!"—her hips bucking wildly as I plunged two fingers inside her, curling them to hit that spot that made her squirt, her juices flooding my mouth in sweet sin. Then, when she was a writhing mess, I'd climb over her, pinning her wrists above her head. "Beg for it," I'd hiss, rubbing my cock against her slick entrance. "Please, fuck me... take me, Alexander!" she'd cry, and I'd slam in—deep, hard, stretching her virgin tightness until she gasped in pain-laced pleasure. I'd pound her relentlessly, each thrust a punishment, my free hand spanking her clit, choking her neck to heighten the rush, her breasts bouncing with every brutal drive. "Scream for me, Elena—let me hear how much you need this," I'd growl, and she would, her voice raw and broken: "Harder! Fuck my pussy harder!" Her orgasms would crash over her one after another, her walls pulsing around me like a vice, milking me until I couldn't hold back, filling her with hot spurts of cum, marking her as mine.

The fantasy blurred with reality as I stroked furiously, my breath ragged, sweat beading on my forehead. I imagined flipping her over, taking her from behind—her ass high, my hands spreading her cheeks as I thrust into her pussy again, spanking her until she sobbed in ecstasy. "You're my obsession now," I'd whisper filthily in her ear, biting her shoulder, losing control in the wet, slapping rhythm of our bodies. Her screams would echo—"Yes, own me! Cum inside me!"—pushing me to the brink.

A sharp notification pinged—email. From her. My heart—fuck, since when did my heart get involved in this depraved game?—thudded wildly as I opened it, my cock still throbbing in my hand. "Fine. But my terms too—no public humiliation, and you cover everything anonymously. See you at 8." I groaned aloud, a guttural sound of triumph and hunger, my shaft twitching violently as I read it again. She was coming. Willingly stepping into my web, ready to be devoured.

I stroked faster, the words fueling the fire, imagining her arrival: at my door in a trench coat, nothing underneath as I'd instruct, her body bare and waiting. I'd rip it open, slam her against the wall, and make every fantasy real—her mouth, her pussy, all mine in a night of sinful excess. The thought pushed me over the edge: I came hard, ropes of hot cum arcing onto my shirt and abs, my roar echoing in the empty penthouse like a promise of what's to come.

But it wasn't enough—nothing would be until she was here, under me, her screams real and raw, her body quivering in surrender. I cleaned up with a predatory smile curling my lips, typing my reply: "Accepted. Wear nothing under your coat. Be ready to feed me—all night long." Send.

Tomorrow, Elena Hayes would learn the full extent of my obsession. And God, I couldn't wait to devour her soul, one erotic thrust at a time.