The Billionaire's Sex Diet Obsession のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 31 - チャプター 40

Elena's POVI collapsed fully against his chest, my body limp and trembling, every muscle turned to liquid fire in the aftermath. Alexander's arms tightened around me, one hand splayed possessively across my lower back, the other tangling in my sweat-damp hair. His cock was still buried inside me, softening slowly, our combined release leaking out around him in a warm, messy trail that trickled down my thighs and onto his lap. The scent of us—sex, sweat, that expensive cologne of his mixed with my own arousal—hung thick in the air, intoxicating, marking the penthouse like a claim.His heartbeat thundered under my ear, wild and erratic at first, then slowing to match mine. I could feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest, the way his abs flexed with each ragged breath. For a long moment, neither of us spoke. There was no need. The silence wasn't empty; it was heavy with everything we'd just done, everything we were becoming. My mind raced through the whirlwind of the evening—the offic

Elena's POVI woke to the soft glow of dawn filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city below stirring to life like a distant hum. Alexander's arm was still slung over my waist, heavy and possessive, his breath warm and steady against the back of my neck. For a moment, I lay there, savoring the quiet—the way his body molded to mine, the faint ache between my legs a delicious reminder of the night before. My skin was marked with his touches: faint bruises on my hips, a love bite blooming purple on my collarbone, scratches from where I'd clawed at him in ecstasy. I felt claimed, utterly and irrevocably.But as the haze of sleep cleared, reality crept in like the morning light. My phone buzzed on the nightstand—persistent, insistent. I reached for it carefully, not wanting to wake him, and glanced at the screen. A text from the hospital: *Mrs. Petrova's condition stable overnight. Next payment due in 48 hours to continue treatment.* My stomach twisted. The money. The reason

Elena's POVThe afternoon dragged on like molasses in the sleek, glass-walled offices of Voss Enterprises, where the hum of productivity masked the undercurrent of my own chaotic thoughts. Phones rang incessantly, keyboards clacked in a rhythmic symphony, and every now and then, a burst of laughter erupted from the break room, pulling me back to reality. I sat at my desk, buried in a sea of spreadsheets and emails from the merger team, double-checking budget allocations that suddenly seemed trivial compared to the ache lingering between my thighs from last night. My body still bore the marks of Alexander—faint bruises on my hips from his unyielding grip, a subtle soreness that throbbed with every shift in my chair, reminding me of how he'd claimed me against that penthouse window.I squeezed in a quick call to Mom during a rare lull, my voice carefully modulated to sound light and unburdened. "How are you feeling today?" I asked, twirling a pen between my fingers as I stared out at th

Elena's POV "You like that, don't you?" he teased, flicking one clamp lightly. "Your body's betraying you—look how wet you are already." I could feel it, the slickness between my thighs, the way my pussy clenched around nothing. "Yes, sir. It hurts... but it feels so good." "Good girl." He moved lower, his lips and teeth grazing my ribs, my stomach, leaving a trail of bites and sucks that would surely bruise tomorrow. The blindfold made it all more intense—I couldn't anticipate where he'd touch next, only feel the surprise of his mouth on my hip, his fingers tracing the edge of my stockings. When he reached the apex of my thighs, I was trembling. His breath fanned over my slick folds, hot and teasing, before the first flick of his tongue against my clit made me buck against the restraints. "God, Alexander!" He lapped at me slowly, deliberately, building the pressure with expert swirls and sucks. His fingers joined in, stroking my entrance without penetrating, circling the sen

Elena's POVHis movements were different this time—deliberate, unhurried, like he was memorizing the feel of me wrapped around him. No rush to conquer, no edge of dominance sharpening his thrusts. Just us, skin to skin, breath mingling as he rocked into me with a gentleness that stole my breath more than any rough fuck ever could. But even in this softness, there was an undercurrent of control, a subtle reminder that he was the one setting the pace, deciding how deep, how slow. Alexander Voss didn't do vulnerability; he orchestrated it.I arched beneath him on the massive king-sized bed, the silk sheets whispering against my back like a lover's sigh. My fingers traced the lines of his face, committing every angle to memory: the sharp jaw clenched with restrained hunger, the faint scar on his brow I'd never noticed before—probably from some high-stakes business deal gone physical, knowing him—the way his dark eyes softened just a fraction when they locked on mine, like I was the only t