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 morning air was sterile and cold, much like the woman sitting across from Alexander at the high-end breakfast nook in BGC. Isabella de Vega was, by every objective architectural standard, a flawless structure. Her hair was a polished chestnut, her conversation was a precise blend of international logistics and high-society gossip, and her smile was a calculated curve designed to appease shareholders.
"My father speaks very highly of your latest firm expansion, Alexander," Isabella said, her voice smooth as silk. "A merger between our families wouldn't just be a marriage; it would be an empire."
Alexander nodded politely, his face a mask of iron-clad professionalism. To the outside world, he was the attentive suitor. But inside, his mind was a riot of silver eyes and red lace. Every time Isabella laughed, he found himself comparing it to the way Kryztal gasped his name in the dark. Every time Isabella touched her pristine napkin, he thought of Kryztal's shaking hands gripping his drafting table. He wasn't hungry for the gourmet breakfast; he was starving for the "distraction" his mother so desperately wanted to demolish.
He had been honest with Kryztal. He told her about the meeting, his voice flat and pained. He didn't want to lie—lying was for structures that were built to fail. He wanted her to know that even when he was sitting with a billion-dollar heiress, his heart was anchored in a dorm room in Diliman.
10:00 PM – The Santillan Estate
The moment the bedroom door clicked shut, the "Professor" was gone. Alexander didn't even let Kryztal speak. He pinned her against the door, his hands diving under her silk slip to grip the bare flesh of her thighs.
"I spent all day looking at a woman who means nothing," he growled, his voice a low, vibrating rasp against her mouth. "Now, I'm going to spend the night reminding you exactly who you belong to."
He didn't lead her to the bed. He hiked her dress up to her waist and hoisted her up, her legs wrapping instinctively around his hips. He entered her with one brutal, unyielding thrust that made Kryztal's head snap back against the wood.
"Alexander! Ah... dahan-dahan..." (Alexander! Ah... slowly...)
"No," he groaned, his hips slamming into her with a wet, heavy rhythm. "I want you to feel every inch. I want you to remember this when you're sitting in that front row tomorrow. Tell me, Kryztal—kanino 'tong puke na 'to?" (Whom does this pussy belong to?)
"Sa'yo... sa'yo lang, Alexander!" (To you... only to you, Alexander!) she sobbed, her body vibrating with the force of his possession.
He reached down, his large hand cupping her breast, squeezing it until she cried out in a mix of pain and pleasure. He lowered his head, his mouth unhinging as he took her nipple into his mouth, sucking and devouring the soft flesh with a hunger that bordered on desperate. He bit down gently, marking her, his tongue lashing against the peak until she was blind with desire.
"You're my masterpiece," he panted, his thrusts becoming faster, more violent. "And I'm going to carve my name into you until you forget anyone else exists."
He moved her to the bed for the second round, flipping her onto her stomach. He knelt behind her, his eyes dark as he looked at her arched back and the way her hair fanned out across the black silk sheets.
"Doggy," he commanded, his voice a guttural snap.
Kryztal complied, her breath coming in ragged gasps. He entered her again, this time slower, stretching her, his cock feeling impossibly thick and veiny. He reached forward, his hands gripping her breasts from underneath, pulling them back so he could watch them swing with the rhythm of his strikes.
"Look at yourself," he whispered, leaning down to lick the sweat off her shoulder. "Look at how much you take for me. Ang sikip mo pa rin, kahit pang-ilang beses na natin 'to." (You're still so tight, even after all the times we've done this.)
"Because you're... ang laki mo, Alexander..." (Because you're... you're so big, Alexander...)
"Good," he growled, his hand traveling down to rub her clitoris with punishing speed as he continued to ram into her. The combination was too much. Kryztal's vision blurred as the first of many climaxes hit her, her internal muscles pulsing around him like a heartbeat.
By the third round, they were both slick with sweat, the room smelling of sex and the expensive sandalwood of his cologne. Alexander pulled her onto his lap, her back against his chest as they sat in the center of the bed. He entered her from behind, his arms wrapped around her waist, holding her close as a dark, pulsing song began to play in the background.
Cross my heart, hope to die
To my lover, I'd never lie
He said, "Be true." I swear I'll try
In the end, it's him and I...
"I don't care about Isabella," Alexander whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he rocked his hips against her. "I don't care about the mergers. It's just us. Do you hear me, Kryztal?"
"I hear you," she whispered, her head falling back against his shoulder.
He reached around, his fingers tangling in her hair to pull her head back, exposing her neck. He bit the sensitive cord of her throat, leaving a dark, purple hickey—a mark that no collar would be able to hide. He was devouring her, his hands never leaving her breasts, his mouth never leaving her skin.
He's out his head, I'm out my mind
We got that love, the crazy kind
I am his, and he is mine
In the end, it's him and I...
The intensity peaked. Alexander increased the pace, his thrusts reaching a feral, desperate speed. He wanted to sew her into his very skin. He roared her name as he finally released, filling her, his body locking in a series of violent, rhythmic spasms.
Kryztal's legs felt like jelly. She couldn't even move her toes as she slumped against him, her body humming with the aftershocks of three rounds of his relentless love.
Kryztal woke up to a silence that felt heavier than the night before. She turned her head, seeing Alexander sleeping peacefully beside her. She leaned over and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. He didn't wake, just let out a faint hum of contentment.
She slipped out of bed, her legs trembling with every step. She walked toward his desk to find her phone, but her eyes caught something else—a silver-framed photograph tucked behind his journals.
It was a family portrait. Alysiana stood like an ice queen, Diervo stood with power, and Alexander was in the middle—the perfect heir.
Kryztal looked at the photo, then at the marks Alexander had left on her skin. She saw the mess of her hair and the silver necklace. She looked at the billion-dollar world in that frame and realized there was no room in those lines for a student.
"I will find whatever 'secret' is keeping you from your duty, and I will demolish it," Alysiana's voice echoed in her mind.
"His mother was right," Kryztal whispered, her voice breaking. "I'm really just a distraction to him."
If she stayed, she wouldn't be his strength; she would be the reason the Santillan empire crumbled. She didn't want to be the ruin he stood over.
Tears blurred her vision as she scrambled to find her dress. She didn't wake him. She couldn't. With shaking hands, she dressed, tucked her shoes into her bag, and walked out. As she left the mansion, the lyrics of the song played one last time in her head.
In the end, it's him and I...
But as the taxi pulled away from the gates, Kryztal knew that some blueprints were simply too dangerous to finish. She was leaving the fortress, leaving the professor, and taking the heartbreak of a "crazy kind of love" with her.