Disclaimer: The author's imagination and passion are the only sources of inspiration for this novel, which is a work of dedication. Parallels between these pages and the past or present may be apparent to some readers, but they are completely coincidental. You are free to interpret this art anyway you see fit, and it is meant for your enjoyment.
The drive back to the Santillan estate was a heavy, suffocating silence that hummed with the same frequency as the engine of the Lamborghini. Alexander didn't speak. He kept one hand on the steering wheel and the other firmly on Kryztal's thigh, his fingers digging into her skin through the fabric of her skirt. He was driving with a lethal precision, his jaw set, his mind clearly replaying the conversation he had overheard in the café.
Kryztal sat in the passenger seat, her breath hitching every time his thumb brushed against the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. She knew that look. It was the look of the Professor who was about to give a failing grade, but as a man, it meant something far more carnal.
The moment they entered the foyer of the mansion, the heavy oak doors hadn't even finished clicking shut before Alexander had her pinned against them. He didn't kiss her. He simply looked down at her, his amber eyes dark with a possessive fury.
"Sagad na sagad? Relentless?" he repeated, his voice a low, dangerous rumble that vibrated against her chest. "You were quite vocal about my 'measurements' today, Architect Sydrin. It seems you've forgotten the meaning of discretion."
"Alexander, I was just—Ria was teasing me," she gasped, her hands coming up to rest on his broad shoulders.
"I don't care who started it," he growled, his hand moving to her throat, not to choke, but to claim. "If you want to talk about how I fuck you in a public café, then you'd better be prepared to back it up. Because tonight, I'm going to make sure you're too exhausted to even whisper my name to a soul."
He didn't take her to the bedroom. He led her toward the private gym and spa wing of the mansion. He hit a switch on the wall, and the hidden speakers began to pulse with the dark, hazy rhythm of Chase Atlantic's "Slow Down."
I'm too phased, it's too late
But coming down is all I ever do, babe, yeah...
Alexander stripped off his blazer, his eyes darkened to a predatory amber. "You were quite vocal at the café, Architect Sydrin," he growled, the bass of the music vibrating through the floor. "Since you enjoyed discussing my 'measurements' with Ria, I think it's time for a private review of your endurance."
He turned to her, stripping off his suit jacket and tossing it onto a bench. He began to unbutton his shirt, his movements slow and methodical. "Get undressed. Everything. Now."
Kryztal obeyed, her hands shaking as she let her professional attire fall to the floor. She stood before him, bare and vulnerable under the dim, recessed lighting of the spa room. Alexander's gaze traveled over her like he was inspecting a structural blueprint, looking for every flaw, every weakness.
"You're so beautiful when you're scared," he whispered, walking toward her. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the remaining boxes of flavored condoms—the chocolate and the strawberry. He tossed them onto the massage table. "We're going through all of them tonight. And you're going to thank me for every single one."
He lifted her easily, sitting her on the edge of the high massage table. He stepped between her legs, his hard, thick length pressing against her entrance even through his trousers. He reached out and grabbed her breasts, his large hands nearly covering them entirely. He squeezed, his thumbs rolling her nipples until Kryztal was arching her back, a soft moan escaping her lips.
"Tell me," he commanded, leaning down to bite the sensitive skin of her neck. "Do you want to talk about how big I am now? Do you want to tell the world how I'm devouring you?"
"No... ah! Alexander... please," she whimpered.
"Say it," he growled, his tongue lashing against her ear. "Tell me what you want, you greedy girl."
"I want you... gusto ko yung malaki mo... I want you inside me!" she cried out, her legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him flush against her wetness.
Alexander let out a dark, satisfied chuckle. He made quick work of his trousers, revealing his massive, pulsing cock. He rolled on a strawberry condom, the sweet scent filling the air, a stark contrast to the raw, musky intensity of his desire.
He didn't enter her slowly. He lunged forward, burying his entire length inside her in one visceral, agonizingly deep stroke.
Kryztal's eyes flew open, her breath catching in her throat. He was so big, so relentless, that it felt like he was touching her very ribs. "Alexander! Masyadong malalim... ah!" (Alexander! Too deep... ah!)
"Not deep enough," he panted, his hips slamming into her with a rhythmic, punishing force. "I want to stretch you out so much that you'll feel me every time you take a step tomorrow. I want you to remember that while you're out being an 'independent Architect,' you're still carrying the weight of my possession."
He leaned down, his mouth clamping over her breast, sucking and devouring her with a hunger that bordered on feral. He bit down on her nipple, and Kryztal let out a high, broken scream, her internal muscles clenching around him in a frantic, pulsing rhythm.
"That's it," he groaned, his voice thick with lust. "Milk me, Kryztal. Show me how much you missed your Professor's lessons."
He didn't let her finish. Just as she was about to tip over the edge, he pulled out, leaving her shivering and wanting. He flipped her over, forcing her into a doggy position on the table.
"Hands flat," he commanded.
He rolled on the chocolate condom this time. He grabbed her hair, pulling her head back so she had to look at him in the mirror on the wall. He entered her from behind, a brutal, shallow-to-deep rhythm that made her entire body shake.
"You like talking about how I hit the spot?" he whispered, his breath hot on her back. "How about this? Does this feel like the 'monster' Ria was talking about?"
He hit her sweet spot with a sickeningly perfect thud. Kryztal's knees buckled, her head tossing. "Yes! Diyan... ah! Sige pa! Harder, Alexander!"
"I'm going to fuck you until you're a moaning mess," he promised. He reached around, his hands finding her clitoris and rubbing it with a calculated, rapid motion while he continued to ram into her. The friction was intense, the pleasure so sharp it felt like a physical blow.
Kryztal was sobbing now, her moans echoing through the spa room, drowning out the music. She was a ruin in his hands, exactly where he wanted her. Every thrust was a claim, every bite on her shoulder a signature. He wasn't just fucking her; he was reclaiming the architecture of her body, rebuilding it to his exact specifications.
The third round took place on the floor, on the plush, oversized rug. They were both slick with sweat, their breathing ragged. Alexander was on his back, and he pulled Kryztal on top of him.
"Take it," he gasped, his hands gripping her waist. "Ride me until you can't breathe."
Kryztal lowered herself onto him, her silver eyes locked onto his amber ones. She began to move, her hips rolling in a slow, agonizing grind. She felt every vein, every inch of his thickness. She lean down, her breasts brushing against his chest as she whispered into his mouth.
"I miss this so fucking bad, Professor... I've been so hungry for you."
Alexander's eyes flared. He reached up, his hands tangling in her hair as he pulled her down for a searing, deep kiss. He flipped them over in one smooth motion, pinning her beneath him as he took over the pace. He was relentless, his thrusts reaching a fever pitch. He was into it—the sweat, the pain, the absolute submission in her eyes.
"You're mine," he growled, his body locking as he finally released, a low, animalistic roar echoing in the room. "Always mine."
The spa room was silent now, save for the faint, lingering beat of the music. Alexander held Kryztal against his chest, her body feeling like jelly, her skin marked with the physical evidence of his "punishment."
He reached out and traced the line of her jaw. "Are you still glowing, Architect Sydrin?"
Kryztal let out a weak, tired laugh, her face buried in the crook of his neck. "I think I'm more of a disaster than a glow right now."
"Good," Alexander whispered, his voice returning to a soft, possessive hum. "That's how I want you. Broken and rebuilt. Every single night."
He picked her up, carrying her toward the master bedroom. As they passed the foyer, Kryztal looked at the heavy oak doors where it had all started tonight. She knew that tomorrow, she would walk back into the world as a professional, but she would carry the secret of the "monster" in her bed—a secret that was far more delicious than anything she could ever tell Ria.