Your cock feels so good—destroy me!

Alexander's POV

"Fuck! Alexander, it's too much—you're so big!" she screamed, her nails scraping the glass.

"Take it," I growled, pulling out almost completely before slamming back in, setting a punishing rhythm. The penthouse filled with the wet sounds of our bodies colliding, her ass cheeks rippling with each impact. I gripped her hips hard enough to bruise, yanking her back onto me as I drove forward, relentless. "Scream for me, you traitorous bitch. Let the whole city hear how I own this pussy—how I'm claiming what's Victor's."

Her cries grew louder, raw and uninhibited, bouncing off the high ceilings. "Yes! Harder—oh God, yes! Punish me, Alexander! Your cock feels so good—destroy me!" She pushed back against me, meeting my thrusts, her body clenching tighter.

I leaned over her, my breath hot against her ear as I whispered filthily, "You like that? Being bent over and fucked like a cheap whore while your husband jerks off to his spreadsheets? You're dripping for me, Isabella—your cunt is begging for more. Tell me how much better my cock is than his pathetic one." My hand snaked around to her front, fingers circling her clit roughly, pinching and rubbing until she bucked wildly.

"You're... you're everything," she panted, her voice breaking on a sob of pleasure. "Victor could never—ahh!—never make me this wet, this desperate. Fuck me, ruin me—come inside me!"

The thrill of her submission, the knowledge that I was defiling my enemy's most prized possession, pushed me harder. I flipped her around, hoisting her up against the window, her legs wrapping around my waist. The glass creaked under our weight, but I didn't care. I thrust up into her, gravity adding to the force, each plunge deeper than the last, my balls slapping against her ass.

Her screams turned into wails, her head thrown back, hair sticking to her sweat-slicked skin. "I'm coming—Alexander, I'm—fuck! Your cock is splitting me open!" Her orgasm hit like a tidal wave, her walls pulsing around me, milking me as she clawed at my shoulders, her juices soaking us both.

But I wasn't done. Not even close. I carried her to the massive leather couch in the center of the room, dropping her onto it roughly. "On your knees," I ordered, my voice a whip crack. "Suck my cock clean, Isabella. Taste yourself on me—show me what a good little cocksucker you are for the man who hates your husband."

She obeyed, trembling, dropping to her knees before me. Her eyes locked on mine as she wrapped her crimson lips around my shaft, still slick with her arousal. She took me deep, gagging slightly as I hit the back of her throat, but she didn't stop—sucking hard, her tongue swirling around the head, hollowing her cheeks. "Mmm, you taste so good," she murmured around me, her hands stroking what her mouth couldn't take. "So thick... I want to swallow every drop."

I fisted her hair, guiding her roughly, fucking her mouth with shallow thrusts. "That's it, choke on it, you dirty slut. Worship the cock that's going to fill all your holes tonight." Her moans vibrated through me, sending jolts of pleasure up my spine. I pulled out after a few minutes, my dick glistening with her saliva, and flipped her onto her back on the couch.

I knelt between her legs, spreading them wide, and dove in—my mouth on her clit, sucking hard while my fingers plunged back inside her, three this time, stretching her. She bucked, screaming, "Alexander! Eat me—oh fuck, your tongue!" I lapped at her like a starving man, biting her inner thighs, leaving marks.

When she was on the edge again, I climbed over her, thrusting back into her missionary style, pinning her wrists above her head. "Look at me while I fuck you," I whispered filthily, my hips slamming down. "See the man who's making you his whore. I'm going to fuck you all night—rough, deep, until you're raw and begging for more."

"Yes! Don't stop—pound me, Alexander! Your cock is my addiction!" she cried, her legs locking around me.

I lost myself in the rhythm, switching positions—her on top, riding me hard as I spanked her ass; then doggy again, yanking her hair like reins. Hours blurred in a haze of sweat, screams, and orgasms—her third, fourth, each one louder, her body marked with my handprints, bites, and bruises. I whispered more filth: "You're mine tonight, Isabella. Victor's wife, my fucktoy. Come for me again—squirt on my cock like the slut you are."

Finally, as dawn crept in, I thrust deep one last time, roaring as I spilled inside her, her final scream echoing with mine. We collapsed, panting, her body spent and marked.

"Alexander... that was incredible," she murmured hoarsely, curling against me.

I pulled away, zipping up with clinical detachment. "Get dressed. We're done here." My tone was cold now, the fire banked. She was just another conquest, another notch in my belt of vengeance.

Isabella's eyes widened in hurt surprise. "But—"

"No buts," I snapped, pouring myself another scotch. "You got what you wanted—multiple orgasms from a real man. Now go back to your husband and pretend you're still his faithful wife." I watched her dress, the satisfaction of revenge mingling with the familiar emptiness. Sex was my drug, my escape—but it never lasted.

As the elevator doors closed behind her, my phone buzzed on the bar. A message from my assistant: *Late-night files delivered to your office. Marketing intern Elena Hayes stayed behind to finalize the report.*

Elena Hayes. I vaguely remembered her—young, fresh-faced, with those wide eyes that screamed innocence. Something stirred in me, a new hunger. Perhaps tomorrow I'd pay a visit to the office after hours.

But for now, the night was young. I scrolled through my contacts, already planning my next fix.