Thirty Days To Ruin

Chapter 7: Until You Forget Your Name

Elena woke to the slow drag of Alexander’s fingers between her thighs. She was already on her back, legs spread wide, his body settled heavily between them. Afternoon light poured through the glass walls, painting golden stripes across the bed and across the marks he had left on her skin—faint red lines on her wrists, the lingering pink heat on her ass, the small bruises on her hips where his hands had gripped her.

His c**k rested thick and hard against her inner thigh, already coated with the fresh slickness his fingers had drawn from her.

“There she is,” he murmured. His voice was low, rough, completely awake. “I told you what would happen when you woke up.”

He pushed two fingers inside her without warning. The stretch was easy now—she was still soft and open from everything that had come before—but the pressure was immediate and deep. He curled them, rubbing that sensitive spot inside her while his thumb circled her c**t in tight, relentless strokes. The wet sound of his fingers working her filled the quiet room.

Elena’s back arched. A soft, broken moan slipped out of her.

“That’s it,” he said. “I want every sound. I want you loud.”

He kept the same steady rhythm until her thighs started to tremble. Then he pulled his fingers free, lined his c**k up, and sank into her in one long, slow thrust. The fullness punched the air from her lungs. He stayed buried to the hilt for a moment, letting her feel every thick inch, the way her walls fluttered around him.

Then he started to move.

Deep, measured strokes that dragged against every sensitive place inside her. The wet slap of his hips meeting hers grew louder with every thrust. He braced one hand beside her head and used the other to pin both of her wrists above her against the mattress. The restraint was simple but absolute. She could only take what he gave her.

“Look at me,” he ordered.

Elena’s eyes locked on his. The cold CEO mask was gone. In its place was raw, focused hunger. He f****d her harder, angling his hips so the head of his c**k rubbed that spot inside her on every inward stroke. The pressure built fast. She came with a sharp cry, walls clamping down around him.

He didn’t stop.

He kept the same relentless pace through her orgasm, f*****g her straight into the oversensitive aftershocks until she was whimpering and trying to twist away. His grip on her wrists tightened.

“Stay still. You’re going to take another one.”

His free hand slid between their bodies. Two fingers found her c**t and rubbed tight, merciless circles while he continued thrusting deep. The dual sensation was almost too much. Elena’s second orgasm hit harder than the first, tearing a broken sound from her throat. Her thighs shook violently around his hips.

Still he didn’t stop.

He pulled out only long enough to flip her onto her side, lift one of her legs high against his chest, and drive back into her from a new angle. The stretch felt deeper this way. Every thrust forced a wet, filthy sound from where their bodies met. c*m and fresh arousal leaked around his c**k with every stroke, running down her thigh onto the sheets.

“Third one,” he growled against her ear. “Come for me again.”

His fingers returned to her c**t. The overstimulation was intense—almost painful, almost perfect. Elena’s third orgasm crashed through her in waves. She sobbed his name, body locking up around him. Only then did Alexander let himself go, burying himself to the root and flooding her with thick, hot pulses. He stayed locked inside her, breathing hard against the side of her neck, while the last aftershocks fluttered around his c**k.

When he finally pulled out, a thick rush of their combined release followed. He watched it drip from her open, swollen p***y for a long moment, then gathered it with three fingers and pushed it back inside her.

“Every drop,” he murmured. “I want you to feel me leaking out of you for the rest of the day.”

He stretched out beside her and pulled her against his chest, one heavy thigh draped over both of hers, keeping her open. His hand rested possessively over her lower stomach, fingers occasionally stroking through the mess between her legs.

Elena’s body felt wrecked in the best way—sore, throbbing, completely used. The emotional weight of the diagnosis tried to creep back in, but the physical haze of what he had just done to her kept it at bay for now.

Alexander’s voice was quieter when he spoke again.

“Tomorrow we start making the calls. I’ll have the best specialists in the city here within the hour if I have to. But today…” His fingers slipped back inside her, slow and gentle this time. “Today you’re going to rest just long enough for me to get hard again. Then I’m putting you on your hands and knees and making you come until you really do forget your own name.”

Elena’s eyes fluttered shut. Outside the glass the city kept moving. Inside the penthouse she was already aching for the next round, body marked, full, and completely his.