CHAPTER TEN

We arrived home.

The thought slipped in so naturally, so quietly, that I barely registered it. Home.

How had I come to think of this place, this dark, sprawling estate where every shadow held a secret—as home? Alexander kept an arm firmly around me as we stepped inside, his briefcase swinging lightly in his other hand. It occurred to me belatedly that he had come straight from his work, making no detours, just to get me. He was always so composed, so controlled. There was something about that, that unsettled me.

He had left whatever business he was managing, driven across the Isle, just to ensure I wasn't alone. Once inside, he set the briefcase down with a practiced, effortless motion, then turned to me, his arms snaking around my waist. His presence was overwhelming, as always. There was nowhere to go but closer, to sink further into him.

"I've missed you," he murmured, his lips brushing against mine.

For a moment, I froze. His touch was familiar, his scent even more so, but something inside me hesitated. My mind was too clouded, my body too drained. I barely knew how to respond, how to navigate the emotional tangle tightening around me. The kiss felt both real and distant, like it was happening to someone else.

I didn't kiss him back.

He pulled away, his gaze narrowing as he stared down at me.

There was no anger in his expression, just quiet observation like he was measuring me, trying to read the mess inside my head.

"I…" I trailed off, not even knowing where to begin. My mind was a whirlwind of questions, and I was exhausted, not from lack of sleep, but from the weight of everything bearing down on me.

Alexander cupped my face, his touch gentle but firm, forcing me to look up at him. "You're handling all of this extremely well," he said quietly, his tone carrying a hint of approval, "for someone who's been cut off from the Isle for so long."

His words were the push I needed. This was my chance. My in. My heart raced as I swallowed, gathering the courage to ask one of the questions that had been gnawing at me. "How do you know my boss?" My words came out more hesitant than I'd intended, my voice betraying how fragile I felt.

His lips curled into a grin, slow and deliberate, like he'd been waiting for this. "If I hadn't already seen you reading that book," he teased, "I'd be upset that you didn't kiss me and say you missed me too—because of another man."

My chest tightened. "If you know what I want to know," I pressed, my voice low, "why haven't you just told me?"

He studied me for a long moment, his eyes. Then he leaned in closer, his breath warm against my ear as he whispered, "Kiss me like you mean it, and I might."

My heart raced. I looked up at him as he drew back, waiting for me to give in, to surrender just a little more. Unsure of what I'd get in return, I kissed him anyway.

I stretched up, my body moving toward his like it was on autopilot. With the height difference between us, I had to stand on my toes, my balance already faltering. Alexander didn't miss a beat.

His hand slid to the center of my back, pressing gently to steady me, while his other hand cradled the back of my head. His fingers threaded through my hair, pulling me closer as his lips met mine.

At first, the kiss was soft, controlled—a mere brush of lips that was meant to coax me in, to ease me into his rhythm, but it didn't stay that way. The gentleness evaporated in a heartbeat. His hold on me tightened, pulling me against him with an urgency that made my stomach dip. I could feel the heat radiating off him, the possessiveness behind every movement, every shift of his body.

The kiss deepened, spiraling out of control as I melted into him. It was a claim, a reminder of who I belonged to. His mouth was demanding, consuming, like he was trying to pull me deeper into him, into the life I wasn't sure I had the strength to resist anymore.

My hands clung to him, fingers gripping the fabric of his suit as his tongue brushed against mine, sending a shock of heat through me. Every part of me reacted to him, betraying the part of my mind that was still trying to hold on to something beyond him. He broke the kiss, but not by much. His lips hovered just above mine. His beautiful eyes had a predatory gleam in them as they searched my face. "You can greet me like that every time I come home from now on."

Before I could respond, he fluffed my hair playfully. "Come on, deliciae ," he murmured, his voice low and coaxing, leading me toward the kitchen. Once we reached the sleek marble island, he gently placed me on a barstool, then loosened his tie in one fluid motion. "I want to make something clear before I say anything else," he said, his eyes locking onto mine.

"You no longer have a boss. There is no man above you—other than myself, of course."

I blinked, momentarily caught off guard. I hadn't expected his possessiveness to extend to my past job, to that part of my life that I had thought was separate from all this, but then Alexander had been a part of that too.

He moved to the liquor cabinet, beginning to make himself his usual drink with methodical precision. I had noticed, over time, that the servitors never did this for him—this small ritual was something he always took care of himself.

"They are our cousins, the Erebus," he said casually as he poured the liquor over ice, the sound sharp in the quiet kitchen. "And they weave certain ideologies of Impío into their off-Isle operations."

"Operations?" I echoed, frowning slightly.

He glanced at me as he stirred his drink. "That's a whole other story, much different than the recruitment chapels being built."

"Recruitment?" My confusion deepened. "I thought everyone here was..."

"Related?" He finished with a grin, a knowing glint in his eyes.

He was fully aware of what I was still avoiding, the line of thought I hadn't been ready to confront. "Our people are all rooted to this Isle, yes, but we rotate in long-standing disciples from outside. Fresh blood," he said with a smirk, "to avoid a batch of children that look like something the Devil shit out."

I couldn't help it—I laughed, the sound slipping out despite the dark and twisted nature of his words. It was sick and wrong, but the absurdity of it cracked something in me for just a moment. And when he heard me laugh, Alexander paused, his gaze locking onto mine with an unreadable expression.

"I love that sound," he murmured, a faint smile touching his lips. "Did you know when you laugh or smile, your entire face lights up? It's beautiful." His smile widened slightly, the warmth of it disarming for a moment. "I need to make sure you do it more often." He turned back toward the ice chest, placing the cubes inside with a slow, deliberate movement.

Then, almost as an afterthought, his voice dropped. "The only sound better than that is when I'm inside of you."

My face heated instantly, my skin flushing as his words hit me. There were two sides to him, both dangerously possessive but in diverse ways. The darker, intense side that commanded my submission without question, and this—this softer, yet still relentless version of him that wrapped around me like a velvet snare.

I swallowed, trying to regain my composure.

"Tell me," I began, keeping my voice steady, though my heart raced. "How far does this reach? How much of my life... have you been involved in?"

He paused for a moment, the clink of the ice in the glass the only sound in the room as he processed my question. "I haven't always known about you," he admitted slowly. "But when I did find out you existed, a few years ago... everything changed. I've spent every waking minute since preparing for your arrival on the Isle." His voice was smooth, but the intensity in his eyes betrayed him.

"This house, everything you see around you—it was all built for you. I made sure no other woman could claim we were together, that none of them mattered enough." He smirked, teasing me as his gaze roved over my face. "That one matters to you, doesn't it?"

Without giving me a chance to respond, he continued, his tone deepening.

"And yes, I made sure you were always somewhere I could have eyes on you. That shitty apartment of yours aside." He chuckled, the sound dark and knowing. "But short of burning it to the ground, I knew you'd never buy the idea of moving into the manor I bought a few blocks from the resort."

My eyes widened. "You bought a house... near the resort?"

His grin grew wider, the playful malice in it unmistakable. "And now you know we have another vacation home." He took another sip of his drink and ran a hand through his dark hair. "When I tell you that you were always meant to be mine, it goes beyond the physical, Lolita. From the moment I learned of you, I made sure nothing could stand in the way of that."

He turned away and grabbed another glass, filling it with ice, the soft clinking sound echoing in the quiet room. His words, his revelations, swirled around my mind, tangling with the uncertainty of what I knew and what I still didn't. We're tied together by blood. That was the part I couldn't shake. I swallowed hard, feeling the question rise in my throat, the one I'd been avoiding for so long.

"You told me we're tied together by blood... but what does that mean?"

He glanced at me, his lips curling into a half-smile. He was enjoying the power he held over me, savoring the way he controlled the flow of information.

Without answering, he finished preparing the other drink and brought it to me, setting the glass down in front of me with a quiet clink.

"Drink this," he said softly.

"What is it?" I asked, my voice wary.

"It's called Elixir Obscura, " he replied, his tone smooth and nonchalant. "A special blend from the Isle. Curated from our land, aged to perfection." He took the stool beside me, his presence overwhelming even in the stillness.

"Is it laced with anything?" I couldn't help but ask.

He laughed, a low, rich sound that sent a shiver down my spine. "Didn't I tell you I'd warn you if I did that?" His hand grazed my arm, a casual touch that felt anything but innocent. "Taste it."

Hesitantly, I lifted the glass to my lips, the scent of the liquor sharp and rich. The first sip was smooth, the taste of honey and dark berries blending with a subtle hint of smoke.

It was surprisingly good, the warmth of the drink spreading through me almost immediately. I took another sip, the edges of my apprehension softening.

"You like it?" His voice was low, and smooth as he watched me, his gaze never leaving my face.

I nodded, a little surprised by how quickly I responded. "It's really good."

"I thought you would."

We sat together for a few moments, the warmth of the drink creating a strange sense of calm. My mind was moving more slowly now, and the questions I had been holding onto started to slip out, one by one.

"Is it because of... devil babies that Jamison doesn't sleep with Cassandra?" I asked, the words sounding odd even to me.

Alexander made a muffled sound, then started to laugh, the kind of deep, genuine laugh that added to the warmth the drink was spreading through me.

"Devil babies?" He shook his head, still grinning. "Jamison is frequently fucking her. I'm sure you'll see it at future gatherings."

I blinked, confused. "What do you mean?"

He looked amused, as if I were missing some obvious point. "The services you've witnessed are just a small portion of our faith, deliciae ." He leaned in slightly, his tone teasing but dark. "We are a very visual... and carnal religion. And we have the best parties."

I stared at him, completely at a loss for words. "You do that too?"

He chuckled again, the sound rich and dangerous. "Do you really want the answer to that?"

My brow furrowed, and he laughed again, affectionately. "Cassandra cannot have children. Normally, that would be grounds for her to be... respectfully removed." His tone remained casual, but I knew what he meant.

It was death hidden beneath the veil of tradition.

"Their relation, and Jamison being a close friend, spared her," he continued.

I processed his words, my mind piecing together more reality of the Isle. "He sleeps with Emilia too," I stated slowly, testing the waters of this strange conversation.

"Sometimes both at once," Alexander mused, a dark smile playing on his lips. "But that's not the norm. Most men keep their progenitors and fidelis separate from their wives. They aren't permitted to bring them to gatherings."

"What are fid - fidelis ?"

"Men kept by other men."

I was mid-sip when he said that, nearly choking. "You have same-sex couples here?"

His brows raised slightly. "You make it seem as if we're some stone-age society. Of course, we do. As long as they take a wife and still contribute to the Isle, we accept all of our disciples."

I stared at him, processing this. It was an oddly progressive yet deeply twisted way of doing things. It didn't escape my notice this arrangement still catered to men, not women.

"Cassandra doesn't like Emilia," I murmured, more to myself than to him.

He laughed lightly. "I'm aware."

"Is that how it usually is?"

He shook his head. " Progenitors are meant to be treated with the same respect our servitors are. Some wives struggle with the arrangement despite needing them. If a woman cannot give her husband children, they either are removed from the Isle, knocked down to a servitor position, or their husbands apply for a Progenitor . We—my Magistri and a few other officials??decide who should be granted one. Not everyone needs to reproduce."

"And that's where the stone-age thing comes from," I muttered without thinking.

He chuckled, his gaze lingering on me.

"You pick up on things quickly. How did you notice the tension between Cassandra and Emilia?"

I hesitated, the memory flashing in my mind. The sharp looks, the subtle undercurrents. "It's not hard to see when you're looking closely," I admitted, choosing my words carefully.

There was an immediate shift in his demeanor as he tilted his head. "She did something then, something that upset you."

I froze, caught off guard by the directness of his statement. "How do you assume that?"

"I don't assume anything, I know." His voice was calm but firm, leaving no room for argument. "I'll handle it."

"She just lost a baby," I reasoned, the weight of the day's events still heavy on my chest.

"What does that have to do with upsetting you?" he asked, his tone too casual.

I swallowed hard and took another drink, my throat suddenly dried. This side of him was suffocating at times, and I had no idea what " handling it " meant. Desperate to steer the conversation away from whatever dark turn it was about to take, I blurted out, "Wait—why don't you have kids?"

It was an unexpected question, even for me. Alexander's eyes flickered, and for the first time, he seemed caught off guard, which I secretly loved. He paused, considering my question with a thoughtful expression, as if weighing how much to reveal. "I've always been discreet about who I touch," he began to explain. "I can tell you the exact number of women I've been with and where each of them is now."

I felt an uncomfortable tightness in my chest. The thought of him with others, of him cataloging each encounter, sent a wave of unease through me.

"Given my position and because I have certain expectations, I could never get just any woman pregnant," he continued. "The Isle has measures in place to prevent accidental pregnancies. Anyone seeking pleasure beyond their home uses the Pleasure House, or they go off the Isle to those operations I mentioned that the Erebus is in charge of."

His words felt clinical and detached, and I hated this conversation more with every passing second. My stomach twisted as I forced myself to ask the next question. "But you wouldn't have used those measures with your wives, right?"

He turned to face me fully, a faint, almost amused smile gracing his gorgeous face. "No," he replied, his voice soft but firm. "But that just further proves they were not meant for me. The first sign the Isle had already chosen you." His eyes locked onto mine.

I studied his side profile, searching for a crack in his fa?ade, something that might hint at doubt or hesitation.

There was none.

Emboldened by the warmth of the drink, I dared to push a little further. "Are you sure you can...?"

He turned toward me again, a slow grin spreading across. "Is that a challenge?"

I swallowed hard, shaking my head quickly. "No, of course it isn't."

His grin widened, the look in his eyes dangerous. "Good. Because when I take what's mine, it's not a challenge—it's a certainty."

"Alex..." I sighed.

"Our people have been waiting for you since the false Diaboli was stripped of her place," he continued smoothly. "The Isle knew that a false bride was standing in your place and then dared to do what she did as everything unraveled."

I frowned. "What she did? Do you mean her cheating on you?"

He ignored my question, his gaze hard and unyielding, refusing to be sidetracked. "Haven't you noticed? Our birth rates have never been lower. And it isn't for lack of medical care. You've seen the facilities we have here, and I assure you, our methods are advanced enough that people are desperate to get approval just to come to the Isle for treatment or cosmetic procedures." He paused, letting the gravity of his words settle over me. "What happened today is a direct reflection of the Isle's rejection. Had you been here sooner, that child would have lived."

My voice wavered as I tried to grasp the weight of his words. "This... I don't know how to believe what you're telling me."

He placed a hand on my thigh, the possessiveness in his touch making my skin tingle.

"Then let your body and the Isle show you. Let me."

I blinked, confusion swirling in my mind. "What?"

"Today, the Isle took a child. But you... you're ready to be filled with one. Bringing new life forth will give our people the security they need to do the same. It will be a sign from the Isle itself."

I couldn't stop my thoughts from spiraling, torn between the woman I had once been and the one he claimed I was always meant to be. How could I reconcile the mundane life of a hotel housekeeper with this twisted destiny, one that seemed to bind me to something ancient and unyielding?

"You really believe I can do that?" The question slipped from my lips, even as I struggled to comprehend it.

"You will do it," he replied with eerie certainty.

He studied me then as if seeing something hidden beneath my skin. "You're already ovulating."

I exhaled sharply in disbelief. "How can you possibly—?"

"Your body is a treasure, Lolita. Do you think I wouldn't know it inside and out?"

A rush of heat flooded my face as I stared at him, feeling the weight of his conviction. His words carried an air of finality. I'd been turning over the events of the day, questioning everything, but this? This twisted reasoning—linking me to the survival of a child I hadn't even known existed until hours ago—felt like too much. Yet, in the pit of my stomach, there was a part of me that feared he might be right.

I had noticed the lack of expectant mothers. I brushed it off. Now it felt like a glaring omission. I tried to push back against the truth he was weaving around me, but it was getting harder to resist.

I finished most of my drink, the warmth of it spreading through me, dulling the sharper edges of my thoughts. I wasn't drunk, but my usual resistance felt softer, and my inhibitions lowered. Alexander downed the remainder of his own drink and stood, his eyes never leaving mine. He extended his hand toward me, and this time, I didn't hesitate. There was something about the way he moved, the certainty in his eyes that made me want to follow.

"Come," he said, reaching for me.

I placed my hand in his, letting him lead me from the kitchen and up the stairs.

As we walked, my mind felt clearer, not weighed down by the confusion that had plagued me earlier. Instead, I felt a strange sense of peace, the tension slipping away with each step. The sound of our footsteps echoed softly in the quiet, and shadows danced along the walls, casting everything in an almost dreamlike glow. When we reached the bedroom, Alexander opened the door and gestured for me to enter first. It was comfortably warm, the fireplace casting a soft light over the bed. The air felt heavy with anticipation. He closed the door behind us and moved closer, his hand sliding to the small of my back.

I could feel the heat radiating from his body, my skin tingling under his touch. Slowly, he turned me around to face him, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made my breath catch. Without a word, he lowered his head and kissed me, soft at first, testing me.

His lips claimed mine in a way that left no doubt of his intentions. I melted into him, the last of my reservations dissolving. His hands trailed down my sides, firm yet tender, sending shivers up my spine. He guided me back toward the bed, never breaking the kiss. As my knees hit the edge of the mattress, he gently pushed me down, hovering above me as he kissed his way down my neck, sending a delicious heat coursing through my veins.

"You're ready, Lolita," he whispered against my skin, his lips brushing just below my ear. "The Isle knows it. I know it."

I couldn't stop the shudder that ran through me, his words igniting something primal deep inside. His lips trailed lower, brushing against my collarbone, sending jolts of heat through my body. His hands moved with deliberate slowness, reaching for the waistband of my pants. With one swift motion, he unbuttoned them, tugging them down over my hips, leaving me exposed. My underwear followed.

I caught his gaze, dark and possessive as he looked down at me. My shirt and bra joined the small pile next, his hands pushing the fabric up and over my head. The cool air of the room contrasted sharply with the heat radiating between us, and I shivered, but not from the cold.

"So beautiful," he murmured.

He stepped back, just enough to let me see him. He shed his suit jacket, and then his fingers moved to the buttons of his shirt. He undid them slowly, his gaze never leaving mine. The deliberate pace only heightened the anticipation that curled in my stomach, a heat rising with every passing second. When his shirt finally fell open, revealing the hard lines of his chest and abs, I couldn't tear my eyes away. His body, sculpted and powerful, was a reminder of the control he held over me—over everything in my life. The room seemed to shrink around us, the space charged with tension.

His shirt dropped to the floor, and then he lowered his slacks, revealing the powerful muscles of his thighs. As he stood before me in all his glory, his cock straining against his drawers, I felt a surge of wetness between my legs. His eyes bore into mine, hooded and intense, as if he could see every secret hidden within me.

With a predatory grace, he moved closer, his fingers trailing down my trembling skin. Every touch sent electricity coursing through me, drawing me closer to him in both fear and longing. His lips found mine in a hungry kiss, igniting a fire that consumed all rational thought. There was no room for hesitation or doubt. He laid me back and began to kiss his way down my body, each touch more possessive than the last. His lips trailed a path over my skin, and I could feel the warmth of his breath against my sensitive flesh. Every sensation heightened my arousal, making me almost desperate with want.

As if in a trance, I reached out to touch him, running my fingers through his hair. He looked up at me, his eyes sparkling with lust and something else—an emotion that I couldn't quite place. It was as if he were gauging my reaction, waiting for me to surrender completely to him. And for some reason, it turned me on even more. He continued his descent, following the curve of my body with slow, deliberate movements.

As his lips brushed the sensitive skin of my inner thighs, a shiver ran up my spine. I squeezed my eyes shut, overwhelmed by the sensation, the vulnerability of it all.

"Eyes on me," he commanded, his voice low, but with an edge that left no room for disobedience.

My eyes fluttered open, locking onto his. His gaze was dark, burning with possession. "Good girl," he murmured, his lips curling into a faint smile as he trailed his hands slowly up my legs, his touch deliberate, knowing.

"I want you to feel every second of this." He used his fingers and slowly parted my lips, revealing the source of my desire and his main target.

I gasped involuntarily as he traced the hood of my clit with his thumb, sending a wave of pleasure cascading through me. His lips curled into a smirk as he saw my reaction. "Perfect." He dipped his head lower, his tongue flicking against me with deliberate precision. Every stroke sent shockwaves of pleasure through me, leaving me breathless and trembling beneath him. The sheer intensity of it made my body arch instinctively, pressing closer to him despite the storm of guilt and confusion swirling in my mind.

"Alex," I whispered his name, my voice barely more than a breath, making everything more real, more grounded, despite the chaos inside me.

His hands gripped my thighs tighter, holding me in place as he looked up, his eyes locked with mine.

"That's it," he murmured, his lips brushing against my skin between every word. "Let go, deliciae . Let me take care of you."

The words felt like they sank into me, deeper than just his touch, like he was claiming not only my body but something far more intimate. His tongue moved again, slow and languid, drawing out the pleasure until I thought I might break from it.

"I want to hear you say it again," he demanded softly, he pulled away just enough to make me ache for more. "Say my name."

"Alex," I breathed, unable to deny him anything, not when my body was begging for more of him.

His smirk deepened, satisfied. "Good girl." He lowered his head again, this time devouring me with a hunger that was both terrifying and exhilarating.

His tongue danced and probed, exploring every inch of me as if savoring each one. I cried out his name repeatedly, my hands tangled in his hair. His grip on my thighs tightened, pulling me closer to his mouth, thrusting his tongue in and out. Each time I cried out his name, he answered with praise and encouragement, his eyes never leaving my face. He was relentless, building up a crescendo of sensations that left me breathless. I felt myself losing control, my body arching against him.

"Say it one last time," he commanded, his voice deep and seductive. "Tell me who you belong to."

"Alex!" I screamed his name, the powerful release taking hold.

The climax was intense and overwhelming, yet it was also precisely what I needed. A part of me knew that I was surrendering to him completely at this moment, and the other wasn't strong enough right then to stop it.

As I slowly calmed down, Alex gently kissed my thighs, his lips tender as he brushed them against my skin. "That's my good girl," he praised, kissing a path back up my body until our lips met. It was as if the world disappeared around us. All that mattered was the connection between us, the way his lips tasted like sin and sweetness all at once—like us.

He ran his fingers through my hair, tangling them in the strands as he deepened the kiss. His other hand skimmed back down my body, returning to between my legs. He began to gently stroke me, his gaze never leaving mine. He gently pulled away; his face hovering inches in front of mine. "Feel that? How wet your pussy is?" His voice was low, coaxing. "We both know what you need, what you're meant to give me."

His words worked through me, leaving me trembling beneath him. He knew exactly what he was doing, keeping me on edge, building the intensity with every stroke.

"When I fill you," he murmured, "you'll know. You'll feel it. You'll understand why this was always meant to be." He moved his hand away from my pussy to remove his drawers revealing himself to me fully.

His cock jutted away from his body. I nearly moaned at the sight, my body yearning for him in ways I had never experienced before. I watched, breathless, as he positioned himself between my thighs, his eyes never leaving mine. He didn't enter me yet, leaning down to kiss me again.

"This is what you were made for," he said lowly, his breath hot against my skin. He pushed inside me, slowly at first, and I gasped, my body instinctively responding to him. I opened my legs wider to accommodate his size, my hands going to his back.

"Tell me," he demanded, his lips brushing mine as he began to thrust, filling me completely. "Tell me you're ready."

I couldn't speak, the sensation of him so overwhelming pleasure making it hard to form words. He thrust deeper, his movements slow and deliberate, coaxing a response from me.

"Say it, Lolita," he demanded, his voice a low growl as he began to move faster, his hands gripping my hips. "Tell me you want it. Tell me you need it."

"I… I want it," I moaned, my head falling back against the pillow as he drove into me harder. "I need it."

His eyes blazed with triumph as he looked down at me as he continued his rhythm. "That's it," he growled, "Accept your purpose, let me give you what you need."

"Yes," I dug my nails into his back.

The bed rocked beneath us, his movements becoming more urgent, more intense. "You'll carry my child," he breathed, "You'll give the Isle what it needs."

I moaned, my body responding to his every command, every thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure through me.

I felt the tension coil tightly in my core, knowing I was close. "Alexander," I gasped, clutching at the sheets, my body trembling as he continued to pound into me.

His hand moved to my stomach, pressing down lightly. "This is where my seed will grow," he said, his eyes brimming with possession as he watched my face contort in pleasure. "You will carry my heir here." He pressed harder, forcing me to feel him inside me in a way that left no doubt as to what we were doing.

I cried out, my body responding to his every touch, every movement. His eyes never left mine as he increased his pace, his hips slamming against me harder and faster. The sounds of pleasure emanating from him were intoxicating, and I found myself throwing caution to the wind as I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him closer.

My nails dug into his back, pleading with him to take me further, deeper.

"Alexander," I moaned, my voice barely a whisper as I felt my body tightening.

"That's it, deliciae , you're taking it so well," he groaned. He surged forward, his eyes burning into mine as he thrust deeper than before, filling me completely. "I'll give you what you need, sweetheart." His voice was a low rumble as if words were vibrating through our very bodies. The intensity of his gaze was captivating, and I felt myself teetering on the edge of ecstasy. My heart raced in my chest as he continued to move within me, taking me higher and higher.

He suddenly pulled out, eliciting a noise of protest from my mouth. He grinned wickedly and took hold of my legs, bending them back until my knees nearly touched my shoulders.

I gasped, my heart pounding in my chest as I felt exposed and vulnerable. He entrapped me in his beautiful eyes as he entered me again, slowly at first. My pussy gripped every thick inch of him, and I moaned his name, feeling the pleasure build inside me.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he growled. He began thrusting into me again, harder, and faster. The new position added a hint of pain. I whimpered, trying to push against him to gain some relief. He ignored my protests and continued, fucking me harder. His eyes never left mine, as if daring me to resist his control. The pain and pleasure melded together in a confusing maelstrom within me.

The room was filled with the sounds of our passion, the bed creaking beneath us, the slap of skin on skin, and our gasps and moans filling the air. "Do you want my come, deliciae ?" he rasped, his eyes flashing with predatory hunger. "Do you want me to fill your pussy up?"

I bit my lip, torn between the pain and pleasure overwhelming me. A part of me screamed to escape his madness, while another part relished the twisted thrill coursing through my veins.

"Yes," I gasped, feeling shockingly alive under his dominance.

At the sound of my submission, Alexander's face contorted with pleasure. He thrust into me harder, hitting a spot inside me that set off a chain reaction throughout my entire body. "You like that, don't you?" he taunted, his breath against my neck. "You like feeling my cock stretch you wide."

I could only whimper in response, lost in the sensation of him inside me. I was completely at his mercy.

"You're mine now," he growled, his fingers digging into my flesh. "Mine to fuck and fill with come whenever I want."

He thrust harder, hitting that spot until I felt myself teetering on the edge. Tears streaming down my cheeks, my chest heaving.

"Please Alexander," I cried, desperate for release.

He flashed me a predatory grin. "You beg so pretty." He leaned down, my feet damn near beside his ears now. "You want me to make you come?" he asked, his voice low and seductive. "You want my seed inside you?"

I nodded frantically, unable to form words.

"Say it," he commanded, his voice husky with desire. "Tell me you want my come inside you."

I struggled for breath, my heart pounding in my chest. "I want your come," I begged. "Please."

"Come for me, beautiful," he commanded, his voice dripping with power. "Show me how much you love taking my cock." He hit that spot inside me again, and my body erupted in a wave of pleasure.

I came clawing at his back, unintelligible words falling from my mouth. I could feel his cock swelling inside me. He groaned my name, his voice low and rough as he began to come with me.

"Fuck, deliciae , you're perfect," he growled, his hips still rocking into me as he emptied himself. I could feel every pulse of his cock, every twitch and throb as he filled me up with his seed. It was dirty and raw and before I knew it, I was coming again. My entire body shuddered as pleasure washed over me. I cried out, clinging to him as I rode out the intense orgasm.

Tears streamed down my face as he continued to rock into me, drawing out both of our orgasms and prolonging the pleasure. His cock was still hard inside me, and I could feel every inch of it as he moved. He pushed as deep as he could, capturing my whimper with his lips and kissing me deeply.

His body stilled, and he remained buried inside me, our mouths moving against one another. I ran my hands up and down every part of him I could reach. When he finally pulled out and lowered my shaking legs from his shoulders, I could feel his come leaking from my pussy. I could feel how much he had given.

It filled me with a strange mix of arousal and shame. He remained hovering over top of me, reaching down to push the excess come that was leaking from me back inside. The act was both repulsive and erotic, reminding me of our twisted connection. He looked down at me, his eyes gleaming with a mix of satisfaction and a renewed hunger.

"Every drop of this is because of you, Lolita." He brought his fingers up and rubbed them across my lips, forcing me to taste what remained. "Is it so terrible? Being fucked by the Devil?"

I rolled my lips together, tasting us.

"How does it feel coming until your beautiful eyes are leaking tears? Does it disgust you? Do you hate me?"

My breath hitched, my body still trembling from the intensity of what just happened. Confusion, desire, anger—they all swirled together inside me, making it impossible to settle on just one feeling. I tried to gather my thoughts, to figure out how I truly felt, but everything was tangled, knotted so tightly that I didn't know where to begin.

"I... I don't know how I'm supposed to feel," I finally replied, my voice smaller than I intended. My throat tightened, and I couldn't quite meet his eyes. "You talk about us being tied together like this is my fate, but..." I paused, feeling a lump forming in my throat. "You've taken everything from me. My choices. My life."

Even as the words left my mouth, I knew they weren't entirely true.

I didn't hate him.

God, I wanted to.

I needed to and I should have.

But a twisted part of me craved his possessiveness and the way he took complete control, a part that made me sick to my stomach, yet I couldn't deny it. He had this hold on me, something dark and irresistible, and it terrified me as much as it made me feel content.

His fingers brushed against my cheek, the touch tender and gentle. "You feel exactly how you're meant to feel," he remarked, his voice soft yet commanding. "Torn between the person you thought you were and the person you are now." He leaned closer, his breath warm against my ear. "Do you regret it?" he asked, his voice a soothing melody that lulled me into a sense of security.

I shook my head, still unable to form coherent thoughts. "No," I whispered. "I don't regret it."

"Good." His smile was slow and wicked as he settled between my legs again. "You shouldn't fight what you already know deep down."

I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his words sinking in. My arms wound around his neck, pulling him closer. Our lips met once more, and as our bodies intertwined again, every touch, every whispered promise, tethered me further to him. Through the haze of desire, when he eventually thrust inside me again, the sickening realization that I might not want to escape clawed at my mind. The thought twisted inside me, growing louder with every passing moment, but I couldn't make it stop.

I didn't know how to make it stop.