ALEXANDER'S OBSESSION

ALEXANDER

As I stand there, my eyes fixed on the scene unfolding before me, my cock pumps in and out of the redheads mouth with a ferocity that's almost animalistic.

Her groans and moans are like a symphony of debauchery, echoing through the air with a intensity that's reminiscent of the most explicit and unapologetic pornographic films. With a firm, unyielding grip, I grasp her head, forcing my shaft deeper into her mouth until it reaches the back of her throat, where it's enveloped by her scorching hot flesh.

The sound of her gagging is music to my ears, a stark reminder of the primal power dynamic at play here. Tears well up in her eyes as she winces from my rough touch, but she doesn't pull away. Instead, she seems to surrender to the moment, her body language screaming submission. I fist her hair tightly, using it as leverage to slam back into her mouth once more, the sensation sending shivers down my spine.

The mewling sounds she makes are like those of a cat in heat, begging for more stimulation, more touch, more everything. This encounter is just another way for me to release the pent-up tension that's been building inside me for what feels like an eternity. It's a fleeting distraction from the monotony of my daily existence, a momentary escape from the crushing emptiness that threatens to consume me whole.

By tomorrow, she'll be nothing more than a forgotten memory, erased from my mind like so many others before her - nameless faces in an endless sea of women who have lost all significance. Their physical appearance has become irrelevant; all that matters is their ability to provide me with an outlet for my desires.

The act itself has become devoid of emotional connection or intimacy; it's now merely a primal urge driven by instinct rather than passion.

And yet, as I look at this girl - this nameless stranger who's currently wrapped around my cock - I feel something stir within me. It's not quite excitement or anticipation; it's more like...awareness? A heightened sense of being alive?

I grasp her hair, pulling at the roots as I thrust into her mouth, the force of my movements causing her to gag.

"That's it, slut, you fucking want my dick, don't you?" I sneer, my voice dripping with dominance. Her moans echo around the room, a symphony of submission that only serves to fuel my desires.

I pound into her, making her take all of me, holding her face against my base as I feel her throat constrict around me. The new angle is intentionally brutal, and I know it makes me hard to take - but I don't care about her comfort. Her eyes widen in a mixture of shock and desperation as my dick blocks her airway and her throat moves around me, pulling me deeper into her mouth.

"Take it all," I order, my voice firm and unyielding. She knew what she was getting herself into when she approached me at the bar - I'm not a gentle lover.

Pleasure isn't something I can experience unless it involves pain - a cruel twist of fate that has left me searching for something more in these nameless encounters.

But they're all too willing - too eager to please - and that's what makes them so unsatisfying. They don't challenge me; they don't push back or resist. They simply surrender to my desires without hesitation or fight - leaving me feeling empty and unfulfilled.

I tire of her mouth, and with a sudden movement, I pull her off my cock, the sound of her gasp for air echoing through the room as her lips release me with a pop. Grabbing her petite body, I swiftly turn her around, positioning her on her hands and knees.

"Spread your fucking legs," I demand, my voice firm and commanding.

For a moment, she hesitates, but then she complies, parting her cheeks with a timid touch. I gaze down at her face, which is pressed sideways into the mattress, her eyes wide with anticipation as she licks her lips in nervous expectation. The sight sends a surge of excitement through me.

"Yeah, you're a fucking greedy little slut," I sneer, my words dripping with dominance.

"You want me to fuck this arse, don't you?" I ask, my tone taunting as I reach out to tease her opening. Her body language screams submission - she's eager to please and desperate for more.

As I look at her like that - vulnerable and open - something stirs within me. It's not quite excitement or anticipation; it's more like... satisfaction? A sense of being in control? Whatever it is it's what drives me forward pushing boundaries seeing how far i can go before someone pushes back

I'm lost in the moment, my cock buried deep in her arse, her moans and gasps music to my ears. I'm in control, dominant, and unyielding. But then, without warning, the door bursts open and Nico's voice cuts through the air.

"Sorry to interrupt, Alex," Nico says, his tone carefully apologetic,

"But Arthur Santini is throwing some kind of lavish party tonight..."

My head snaps toward him, my gaze icy and sharp. The name alone is enough to freeze me mid-motion.

Arthur Santini.

That bastard.

My jaw tightens as my thoughts begin to race.

"A party?" The very idea is enough to set my blood boiling.

Arthur Santini. The man who owed me a significant amount of money, who had the audacity to beg for more time, swearing he was stretched thin. And now, he’s throwing a lavish party?

And now, here he is, squandering money—he should be handing over to me—on some lavish, over-the-top party he has no business throwing?

I feel a surge of anger course through my veins.

Nico shifts his gaze to the redhead briefly, then back to me, his expression steady. Nico is more than my right hand; he’s my shadow, my anchor in this chaotic world. If there’s anyone I’d trust with my life, it’s him.

"It’s a grand spectacle," he begins, his tone cautious but unwavering.

"Word is, Robert Solas is on the guest list."

The name hangs in the air like a loaded gun.

My jaw tightens, and a flicker of annoyance sparks in my chest. Solas—a man of influence, a kingmaker in his own right. And yet, Robert Solas is also my enemy, a man I despise with every fiber of my being. Santini isn’t just throwing a party; he’s aligning himself with a snake, forging alliances with my enemy.

I pull out of the redhead abruptly, leaving her gasping and confused. My attention is now solely focused on Nico and the information he's brought me.

The girl looks up at me uncertainly, but I ignore her. My focus has shifted from pleasure to revenge. And nothing will stand in my way until I get what I want

"Get ready. We’re crashing a party," I say coldly, my voice a sharp command that leaves no room for questions.

Nico doesn’t hesitate. He gives a single, sharp nod before retreating, the door clicking shut behind him without another word.

I turn back to the redhead sprawled across my bed. The fire that had been there moments ago is gone, extinguished by the flickering ember of rage now fueling my thoughts.

My desire is a distant memory, replaced by the name that echoes in my mind like a warning shot: Arthur Santini.

The bastard thinks he can flaunt wealth he doesn’t have—money that belongs to me—in front of Solas and his elite circle? My jaw tightens as possibilities churn in my mind. This isn’t just a party; it’s a power play. But two can play this game.

I pull on my shirt, my movements quick and precise, my focus already shifting to the night ahead. Santini doesn’t know it yet, but I’ll be turning his little spectacle into the stage for my own performance.

One he won’t soon forget.