Addicted to the CEO: Sinful Pleasures

Chapter 3: Ovulation Heats

Elena was burning.

It wasn’t just the memory of the last two nights; it was something deeper, primal, surging through her veins like liquid fire. Day three of the conference, and her body had betrayed her in the most delicious way: she was ovulating. She’d felt it coming yesterday—the heightened sensitivity, the constant low throb between her legs, the way her breasts felt heavier, fuller, n*****s aching at the brush of fabric. Today it had hit full force. She was wet from the moment she woke up, her p***y swollen and needy, mind flooded with filthy, desperate thoughts of being filled, bred, claimed.

Mark had tried again this morning—sleepy, clumsy morning s*x that ended with him grunting into her neck after three minutes, rolling off satisfied while she lay there clenching around nothing. She’d smiled, kissed him, and waited until he left for his meetings before locking herself in the bathroom. Fingers weren’t enough. Even her strongest vibrator only took the edge off. She needed him.

The message came at noon.

Tonight. Balcony. Midnight. Wear white. Nothing underneath. I can smell how fertile you are from here.

Her breath hitched. How did he know? The app? Or was it just instinct? Either way, the words made her c**t pulse.

The day crawled. She bought a new outfit—white lace bralette that barely contained her swollen breasts, matching garter belt and stockings, no panties, no thong. Just bare, dripping p***y framed by delicate straps. She packed the soft silk ropes he’d requested, plus extra lube and the larger plug—this one thicker, with a tapered bulb that would stretch her ass perfectly.

Mark came back exhausted, ordered room service, passed out by 10 p.m. She waited until his snores were deep and steady, then slipped out.

He was already on the balcony, shirtless this time, muscles gleaming under the moonlight. Black pants low on his hips, c**k already straining against the fabric. His eyes darkened the second he saw her.

“Jesus f*****g Christ,” he growled, stepping close. “Look at you. t**s spilling out, n*****s hard as diamonds. You’re in heat, aren’t you?”

She nodded, voice shaky. “Ovulating. I’m… I’m so f*****g fertile right now. I can’t stop thinking about—”

“About getting bred,” he finished, voice rough. “About a thick c**k pumping you full of c*m when you’re ripe and ready. About being claimed deep where it counts.”

“Yes,” she whimpered. “Please.”

He grabbed the ropes from her bag, eyes blazing. “Hands behind your back.”

She obeyed instantly. He bound her wrists with practiced efficiency—silk tight but not cutting, forcing her chest out, breasts thrust forward. Then he looped rope around her upper arms, cinching them together so her back arched, making her t**s even more prominent.

“Look at these fertile f*****g udders,” he said, voice dripping filth as he cupped them roughly. “So full and heavy. Begging to be milked while I knock you up.”

She moaned, thighs rubbing together, slickness already coating her inner legs.

He pushed her down onto the lounger on her back, legs spread wide. More rope—ankles tied to the legs of the chair, exposing her completely. Her p***y glistened in the moonlight, swollen lips parted, c**t peeking out, begging.

He stood between her spread thighs, stroking his c**k slowly through his pants as he stared.

“Tell me what you need, fertile little wife.”

“I need your c*m,” she gasped. “Deep inside me. Breed me. Fill me until it takes.”

He groaned, unzipping finally. His c**k sprang free—thick, angry red, pre-c*m dripping from the slit.

“First, you’re going to suck it. Get it nice and wet for your needy cunt.”

He straddled her chest, knees pinning her bound arms. His c**k slapped against her lips.

“Open.”

She did, eagerly. He fed it to her slowly at first, letting her tongue swirl around the head, tasting his salty pre-c*m. Then deeper—pushing into her throat until she gagged, tears streaming, saliva dripping down her chin onto her bound breasts.

“That’s it,” he praised, voice filthy. “Choke on the c**k that’s going to breed you. Get it sloppy.”

He f****d her mouth relentlessly, hips rolling, balls slapping her chin. Every thrust pushed her breasts together, n*****s rubbing against his thighs.

After minutes of throat-f*****g, he pulled out, strings of spit connecting them.

“Now your tits.”

He slid his slick c**k between her breasts, squeezing them together around his shaft. The ropes made them bulge even more, creating a perfect channel. He thrust slowly at first, then faster, the head of his c**k bumping her chin on every upstroke.

“f**k, these fertile t**s were made for this,” he grunted. “Made to be f****d and covered in c*m. But not tonight. Tonight it goes inside your ripe pussy.”

He moved down her body, settling between her bound legs. First, he ate her—slow, torturous licks through her soaked folds, sucking her c**t until she sobbed, then tongue-f*****g her hole like he was trying to taste how fertile she was.

Two fingers, then three, stretching her open. He curled them hard against her G-spot, pumping relentlessly while his thumb circled her c**t.

“You’re going to squirt for me first,” he commanded. “Show me how ready your body is to be bred.”

He added the larger plug to her ass—slow, steady pressure until it popped in, filling her completely. The dual stretch made her scream.

He f****d her with his fingers harder, mouth latched to her c**t, sucking in pulses.

“Come on, baby. Squirt all over my hand like a good breeding slut.”

She shattered—screaming his name, hips bucking against the ropes as she squirted in powerful jets, soaking his arm, chest, the lounger. Her p***y clenched rhythmically around his fingers, ass gripping the plug.

He didn’t wait.

He pulled his fingers out, lined his c**k up, and slammed into her p***y in one brutal thrust.

“f**k—yes—breed me—” she cried.

He pounded her without mercy, hips snapping, balls slapping her plugged ass. Every thrust bottomed out, head kissing her cervix.

“This is what you need,” he snarled. “A real c**k stretching your fertile cunt. Not that pathetic husband of yours. He can’t breed you. But I will.”

“Yes—yes—only you—”

He reached down, rubbing her c**t in tight circles. “Come on my c**k. Milk me. Pull my c*m deep where it belongs.”

Another orgasm crashed through her—harder, deeper. She squirted again around his thrusting c**k, walls spasming, trying to suck him in.

“That’s it—f**k—take my load—”

He roared, burying himself to the root and coming hard. Thick, hot ropes painted her walls, flooding her cervix, pulse after pulse. She felt every spurt, her body greedily drinking it in.

He stayed deep, grinding slowly as he emptied, then leaned down to kiss her filthy and deep.

“Tomorrow,” he whispered against her lips, “I’m bringing a bigger plug. And a friend. You’re going to take two c***s while you’re still ovulating.”

She clenched around his softening c**k, already desperate for more.

He untied her gently, massaging circulation back into her limbs, cleaning her with soft touches. c*m leaked from her p***y in thick streams as she stood on shaky legs.

She slipped back inside at 2:30 a.m., body marked with rope burns and bruises, p***y swollen and full of his seed.

Mark slept on, oblivious.

But Elena knew: she was addicted. And tomorrow, she’d beg for even more.