Chapter 3

Lush’s POV

Days blurred into a haze of want and secret texts. Alexander had me hooked, and he knew it. His commands came at random times, pulling me from work or sleep. "Hotel. Now. No panties." I'd rush out the door, heart racing, pussy already wet from the thought of him. His arrogance drove me wild. He treated me like his toy, and I loved every second. He knew how to touch me, fuck me, make me beg for more. No one else had ever made me feel this alive. This dirty.

One afternoon, his text lit up my phone: "My office. 2 PM. Wear that short skirt." I left my job early, claiming a headache. The drive felt endless. My thighs stuck together from the slickness building between them. I parked in the underground lot and took the private elevator up. His secretary waved me in without a word. She probably knew. But I didn't care.

Alexander sat behind his huge desk, on a call. He motioned for me to come closer. I stood in front of him, waiting. He hung up and leaned back, eyes dark. "Lock the door." I did. "Now, lift your skirt. Show me."

I pulled it up slowly, revealing my bare pussy. No panties, as always. He nodded approval. "Good girl. Come here." He pulled me onto his lap, facing him. His hands gripped my ass, squeezing hard. "You've been thinking about my cock all day, haven't you?"

"Yes," I admitted. My voice was breathy.

He smirked, that bossy look that made me melt. "Prove it." He unzipped his pants and pulled out his thick cock. It sprang free, hard and ready. I lifted myself and sank down on it, slowly. He filled me completely. I gasped as my walls stretched around him. "Ride me," he ordered.

I started moving, up and down. His hands guided my hips, setting a rough pace. The chair creaked under us. His office was soundproof, but I still bit my lip to muffle moans. He leaned forward and sucked on my neck, leaving marks. "Louder. I want to hear you."

I let go, moaning his name. "Alexander... fuck, you feel so good."

He thrust up into me, meeting my movements. "That's right. This pussy is mine." One hand slipped between us, rubbing my clit in circles. Pleasure shot through me. I rode faster, breasts bouncing. He grabbed one and pinched the nipple hard. Pain mixed with bliss. I felt that pressure building deep inside, the kind that led to squirting.

"Don't stop," I begged.

He laughed low. "I'll decide when you come." But he kept rubbing, thrusting deeper. My juices soaked his pants. The wet sounds filled the room. Filthy. I clenched around him, close. So close.

"Now," he growled. "Come for me." I shattered, squirting hard. It gushed out, wetting his shirt and desk. I screamed, body shaking. He kept fucking me through it, drawing it out. Then he stood, still inside me, and bent me over the desk. Papers flew everywhere.

"Stay down." He grabbed my wrists and held them behind my back. Then he pounded into me from behind, hard and fast. His free hand smacked my ass. Each slap made me yelp. "You love this, don't you? Being my little slut."

"Yes! Fuck me harder!"

He did. His cock hit that spot over and over. I came again, squirting onto the floor this time. He groaned and filled me with his cum, hot and thick. It leaked out as he pulled away. I collapsed on the desk, panting.

He fixed his clothes and sat back down. "Clean up. Then go." His voice was cold now, arrogant. It made me want him more. He knew how to leave me craving.

That night, another text: "My yacht. Midnight. Bring nothing." I snuck out of my apartment, drove to the dock. The boat was huge, lit up against the dark water. He waited on deck, shirtless. Muscles rippled under the moon. "Strip," he said.

I did, clothes dropping to the wood. The air was cool on my skin. He led me below to a bedroom with silk sheets. "On the bed. Hands above your head."

He tied my wrists to the headboard with soft ropes. I tugged, testing them. Tight. He knelt between my legs, spreading them wide. "Look at you. Dripping already." His tongue flicked my clit, teasing. I arched up, wanting more. He licked slowly, savoring. Then sucked hard. I moaned, pulling at the ties.

"Please... more."

He looked up, eyes smug. "Beg better."

"Please, Alexander. Eat my pussy. Make me come."

He dove in, tongue thrusting inside me. His fingers joined, pumping fast. He knew every spot. I writhed, hips bucking. He pinned me down with one arm. "Stay still." The command made me hotter. Pressure built again. He curled his fingers, hitting deep. I squirted into his mouth, screaming. He drank it down, licking me clean.

Then he untied me and flipped me onto my stomach. "Ass up." I obeyed, presenting myself. He slammed into me from behind, grip bruising my hips. "Fuck, you're tight." He fucked me rough, pulling my hair back. "Scream for me."

I did, loud and raw. The boat rocked with us. He smacked my ass red. Each thrust pushed me closer. "You love how I make this pussy squirt, don't you?"

"Yes! Don't stop!"

He reached under and pinched my clit. I came undone, squirting again. He followed, cum spilling inside me. We collapsed, sweaty and spent.

Afterwards, we lay there. He traced patterns on my back. "The divorce papers went to Evelyn this morning," he said casually. "She hasn't signed yet. But she will."

A thrill ran through me. I was the reason. The spark. It felt dark, powerful. "What if she fights it?"

He shrugged. "She can try. But I'm done." His hand slipped between my legs again, teasing. "You're all I need now."

I moaned softly. "Prove it."

He did. Fucked me slow this time, face to face. His eyes locked on mine. "You're mine." He made me come twice more, squirting each time. He knew my body better than I did. Left me sore, marked, and aching for the next time.

The meetings kept coming. A quick fuck in his car during lunch. Bent over the hood in a parking garage. Him commanding me to suck him off while he drove. Swallowing his cum as he groaned. Each time, he pushed the edge. Riskier places. Dirtier acts. He tied me up in a hotel, blindfolded, teasing me with ice and his tongue until I begged. Then fucked me until I squirted rivers.

His arrogance fueled it all. "You can't get enough, can you?" he'd say, smirking. And I couldn't. He made me wet with a look. Made me squirt with a touch. Left me wanting more every time.

One evening, after a session in his home gym—him fucking me against the mirrors, watching ourselves—he got a call. His face hardened. "Evelyn knows something. But the divorce has already been served. Stay safe."

I nodded, but a chill hit me. His wife. Jealous. Rich. What would she do? But then he pulled me close, kissing me deep. His cock stirred again. "One more time."

He took me on the floor, rough and claiming. Made me forget the worry. For now.

As I drove home, my phone buzzed. Another text: "Tomorrow. My jet. Pack light."

Excitement mixed with that dark edge. I was addicted. To him. To the risk. He had me, body and soul.