Chapter 4

Lush’s POV

The next morning, I packed a small bag with just a few clothes. My hands shook a little as I zipped it up. Alexander's text from last night still glowed in my mind. His jet. I had no idea where we were going, but it didn't matter. I just wanted him. His commands. His cock. I slipped on a light dress, no underwear, like always. My pussy throbbed at the thought of what he'd do to me up in the air.

I drove to the private airport. His jet sat on the runway, sleek and white. A driver waited and took my bag. "Mr. Voss is inside," he said. I climbed the steps, heart pounding. Alexander lounged in a leather seat, glass of scotch in hand. He looked up, eyes hungry. "Sit," he ordered, pointing to the seat across from him.

I obeyed. The plane door shut, and we taxied down the runway. As we lifted off, he unbuckled and stood. "Come here." He pulled me up and led me to the back. There was a small bedroom with a big bed. "Strip."

I peeled off my dress, standing naked. The hum of the engines vibrated through me. He pushed me onto the bed, on my back. "Spread your legs." I did, wide. He knelt between them, his breath hot on my skin. "You've been wet since you got my text, haven't you?"

"Yes," I whispered.

He smirked, that arrogant grin that made me drip more. "Show me." His fingers traced my slit, slow. I was soaked. He pushed two inside, pumping easy. "Ride my hand." I bucked my hips, fucking his fingers. He added a third, stretching me. Pleasure built fast. But he pulled out just as I got close. "Not yet."

I whined. "Please..."

He stood and dropped his pants. His cock sprang out, hard and thick. "Get on top." He lay down, and I straddled him. I sank into him slowly, inch by inch. He filled me up. "Ride me hard."

I started bouncing, hands on his chest. The plane hit a bump, making me slam down deeper. I moaned loudly. His hands gripped my ass, guiding me faster. "Fuck, your pussy is tight." He thrust up, meeting me. The leather seats creaked under us.

"Alexander... I'm close."

He flipped us over, pinning me down. "You come when I say." He fucked me rough now, pounding deep. His thumb found my clit, rubbing hard. Pressure built inside, that full feeling. "Now. Squirt for me."

I let go, gushing all over him and the sheets. I screamed, body shaking. He kept thrusting, making it splash. Then he pulled out and came on my stomach, hot ropes marking me.

We lay there, catching our breath. The plane leveled out. "We're going to my island," he said. "A weekend. Just us."

Excitement hit me. But also a hint of fear. His wife. The divorce. "What about Evelyn?"

He shrugged. "She got the papers. She's pissed, but it's done." He cleaned me up with a gentle towel, gently. Then his hand slipped between my legs again. "Round two."

He edged me for what felt like hours. Teasing my clit with his tongue, stopping right before I came. Fingers inside, curling, then pulling away. I begged, tears in my eyes. "Please, let me come."

Finally, he slammed into me from behind, doggy style. "Come now." I did, squirting hard. He fucked me through it, then filled me with cum.

We landed on his private island. A villa waited, right on the beach. Palm trees swayed. He carried me inside, straight to the bedroom. "Shower first," he said.

Under the hot water, he soaped me up. His hands roamed, pinching my nipples, fingering my pussy. "You're mine this weekend." He bent me over, fucked me against the tile. Made me squirt again, water mixing with my juices.

The days blurred. We fucked everywhere. On the beach, sand sticking to our skin. In the pool, water splashing as he took me from behind. He was arrogant, commanding. "Suck my cock." I'd drop to my knees, taking him deep. He'd hold my head, fucking my mouth until tears ran. Then reward me by eating my pussy until I begged to stop.

One night, under the stars, he tied my hands to a lounge chair. "Don't move." He teased me with a feather from some bird, light touches on my clit. Then his mouth. He edged me again, denying release. "Beg."

"Please, Alexander. Fuck me. Make me squirt."

He did. Slammed in, rough thrusts. I came hard, soaking the chair. His cum followed, deep inside.

But on the flight back, reality crept in. He got a call. His face darkened. "Evelyn found out about us. Somehow." The divorce was filed before we started, but she knew now. "Be careful."

I nodded, but fear twisted in my gut. Back home, I unpacked. It was late. I stepped out of my apartment to grab mail. The street was dark, quiet. Then shadows moved. Two men in masks jumped on me. One grabbed my arm, knife flashing. "Stay quiet," he hissed.

Panic hit. I kicked his knee hard. He grunted. The other swung at me. I dodged, but his fist grazed my side. Pain bloomed. I screamed, loud as I could. Neighbors' lights flicked on. The men cursed and ran off.

I stumbled inside, bruises forming. My phone rang. Alexander. "What happened?"

"Men... attacked me." My voice shook.

"I'm coming." He hung up.

Minutes later, his car screeched up. He burst in, eyes wild. "Fuck." He pulled me into his arms, checking my wounds. "This was Evelyn. I know it."

"She must have hired them after she found out." His fury boiled. He paced. "I'll protect you. Move in with me."

I shook my head. "Too soon. Stepdad would know."

He stopped, cupped my face. "I won't let her hurt you." His kiss was fierce. Possessive. It turned hungry. He lifted me, carried me to the bed. "Let me make you forget."

He was gentle at first. Kissing my bruises. Licking my neck. His hands are soft on my breasts. "You're safe with me." Then he spread my legs, tongue diving into my pussy. Slow laps. I moaned, fear fading. He sucked my clit, fingers inside. Built me up easily.

"Alexander..."

He rose, cock hard. Slide in slow. "Feel me." He thrust deep, but tender. Our eyes locked. "I own you." Pace quickened. Rougher. His hand on my throat, light pressure. Arrogant fire in his eyes. "Come for me."

I did, clenching around him. No squirt this time, just waves of pleasure. He groaned, filling me.

We lay tangled. "Stay tonight," I said.

He nodded. "Always."

But sleep didn't come easy. Evelyn's shadow loomed. The attacks would keep coming, he said. Failed this time, but next? Still, in his arms, I felt owned. Wanted. His arrogance soothed me. He knew how to fuck away the dark.

The next day, he left early for meetings. "Bodyguard outside," he texted. I felt watched. Safe, but trapped. Our affair grew riskier. Dirtier. That night, he snuck back. Fucked me against the window, curtains open. "Let them see," he growled. Made me squirt on the glass.

Evelyn's rage fueled it. Another attempt came days later. Poison in my coffee at work? I spit it out, and it tasted wrong. Called him. He raged. "She's done."

But we kept going. His jet again, quick trip. Fucked mid-air, moans loud. He edged me longer, denying until I cried. Then let me explode.

His son, Damian, called me once. "We should talk." I hung up. He'd eyed me before, at parties. Young, handsome, but no fire. Not like his dad. I ignored him.

Alexander confided more. "Divorce hearing soon. She'll lose everything." It made me hot. This powerful man, choosing me.

One evening, after a rough session—him spanking me red, then fucking my ass for the first time—I lay sore. Happy. But the shadows grew. Evelyn wouldn't stop. The danger mixed with the lust. Made it darker. Better.

I craved him more. His commands. His cock. Even with knives and poison lurking, he owned me.