Her Sperm Donor Is A Billionaire

WARNING! CONTAINS MATURE CONTENT Secret Cradle (Mateo POV)

Secret Cradle (Mateo POV)

"Cynthia, meet me at our spot in thirty minutes."

My voice came out sharper than I intended, echoing in the empty boardroom where I'd locked myself in after that endless meeting with Ysabel's lawyers. I gripped the phone tighter, waiting for her reply, my thumb hovering over the end call button if she hesitated.

"Excited na ako, Mateo. Ano'ng surprise mo?" Her tone was breathy, that familiar mix of curiosity and hunger that always pulled me back.

"Just get there." I hung up, pocketing the phone before anyone could barge in. The air in the room felt thick, like it was pressing down on my chest, but I shook it off, grabbing my keys and slipping out the back door of the Montoya building. No way was I letting Ysabel's security detail spot me sneaking off. The drive to our secret cradle—a rundown cabin hidden in the hills outside the city—took twenty minutes of reckless speeding, my tires screeching on the sharp turns. I needed this. The pressure from faking it with Ysabel was cracking me, her endless talks about the wedding and the heir clause in her dad's will making my skin crawl. But Cynthia? She was the fire that burned it all away.

Pagdating ko, the place looked the same: overgrown vines choking the wooden walls, the door creaking as I pushed it open with my shoulder. I flicked on the single bulb hanging from the ceiling, casting shadows that danced like ghosts. Sa loob, I started setting up. The black duffel bag I'd stashed in my trunk clinked as I unzipped it—ropes, cuffs, the paddle she loved, and that new blindfold I'd ordered online under a fake name. My hands moved fast, looping the ropes over the old bedframe, testing the knots with a tug that sent a thrill up my arm. This was for her addiction, pero para rin sa akin, to reclaim control in a life spinning out of it.

The door rattled, and she stepped in, her heels clicking on the splintered floor. "Mateo? Bakit ang dilim dito? Ano'ng—oh." Her eyes widened as she spotted the setup, her lips parting in that slow, wicked smile. She was wearing a tight red dress that hugged her curves, the kind that screamed she knew exactly what she did to me. "b**m? Talaga? You remembered."

I crossed the room in two strides, grabbing her wrist and pulling her close, her perfume—sweet and spicy—hitting me like a drug. "Strip," I commanded, my voice low, watching her pulse jump under my fingers.

She laughed, a soft, teasing sound, but her hands went to the zipper at her back. "Bossy ka agad? I like it." The dress slid down, pooling at her feet, revealing lace that barely covered anything. She kicked it aside, stepping closer, her nails grazing my shirt buttons. "Stressed ka ba? Si Ysabel ba 'yan? Tell me, Mateo. Gusto kong marinig how she's making your life hell."

I pushed her back against the wall, the rough wood scraping her skin—she gasped, but didn't pull away. "Don't mention her name here." My hand slid up her thigh, fingers digging in just enough to make her arch. She was already trembling, her breath hitching. This was our escape, the only place where I didn't have to pretend. With Ysabel, it was all calculated touches, forced smiles during dinners with her mother, Margarita, who eyed me like she knew my game. But Cynthia? She craved the pain I could give, the kind that blurred into pleasure.

"Promise me," she whispered, her eyes locking on mine, dark and demanding. "Ako lang ang iniisip mo ngayon. Not her money, not the empire."

I silenced her with a kiss, hard and possessive, tasting the lipstick she wore just for me. She bit my lip, drawing a metallic tang, and I growled, spinning her around to face the bed. "Hands up." I bound her wrists to the frame, the rope biting into her skin as I tightened it. She tested the bonds, pulling hard, but they held. "Good girl."

"Harder," she demanded, her voice muffled against the pillow as I positioned her. "Gawin mong masakit, Mateo. I need to feel it."

I picked up the paddle, the leather cool in my palm, and brought it down on her ass with a sharp crack. She cried out, her body jerking, but she pushed back for more. "That's it," I muttered, my free hand tracing the red mark blooming on her skin. Each strike echoed in the cabin, her moans mixing with the creak of the bed. Sweat beaded on my forehead, my shirt sticking to my back as I escalated, switching to the flogger, its tails whipping across her thighs. She was sobbing now, tears streaking her cheeks, but her hips ground against the mattress, begging.

"Stop teasing," she panted, twisting to look at me over her shoulder. "f**k me already. Punish me for making you wait."

I dropped the tools, undoing my belt with shaking hands. The zipper rasped loud in the silence between her gasps. I entered her roughly, no prep, just the raw need driving me deep. She screamed, her walls clenching around me, and I thrust harder, my fingers bruising her hips. "This is what you want, 'di ba? To be mine completely."

"Oo," she whimpered, her voice breaking. "Ako lang. Walang Ysabel. Promise me, Mateo. Sabihin mo."

I leaned over her, my chest pressing against her back, sweat mingling. "Ikaw lang." But even as I said it, a flicker of doubt hit me—Ysabel's face flashing in my mind, the way she'd looked at me during our last dinner, trusting, oblivious. I shoved it down, pounding into Cynthia faster, chasing the release that would erase it all.

We collapsed after, her body limp in the ropes, my arms around her as I untied her. She curled into me, rubbing the welts on her wrists, a satisfied hum escaping her lips. "That was perfect. Pero... may something pa ba? Bakit parang distracted ka?"

I stiffened, propping myself on an elbow to look at her. "Wala. Just the usual s**t with the wedding plans." I traced a finger down her spine, feeling the raised skin from the flogger. She winced, but smiled.

"Liar," she teased, but her eyes sharpened. "Alam ko when you're hiding something. Is it about the heir? Yung will ni Daddy niya? You have to get her pregnant soon, right? Or else, wala kang makukuhang pera."

I sat up, the bed groaning under me. "Cynthia, tigilan mo 'yan." My voice came out cold, but she didn't back down, sitting up too, her hair wild around her face.

"Bakit? Ako ang totoong mahal mo, pero siya ang pinipilit mo. Jealous ako, Mateo. She has everything— the jewels, the company, even you on paper. What if I want more? What if I want to be the one carrying your child?"

The words hung heavy, her stare intense, like she was daring me to deny it. My heart raced, the cabin suddenly feeling too small. This wasn't part of the plan. Cynthia was supposed to be the fun, the escape, not the complication.

" Ano'ng ibig mong sabihin?" I demanded, grabbing her arm, not gently.

She leaned in, her breath hot on my face. "Sabihin mo, Mateo. Kung ako ang magdadala ng heir, pwede ba akong maging si Ysabel? Steal her life?"

I released her, standing up, pacing the floor. The idea twisted in my gut—exciting, dangerous. But if Ysabel found out... "That's insane. She's my fiancée. The will specifies her heir."

Cynthia stood too, naked and unashamed, closing the distance. "But I'm her stepsister. Same blood from Mom. Maybe I can trick it. Imagine, Mateo—us together, with the money. Walang faking."

My mind spun, visions of the Montoya empire flashing: diamonds, power, freedom from scraping by. But the risk—Margarita would know, Cassey might spill if she sniffed something. "Paano? You think it's that easy?"

She grabbed my shirt, pulling me close. "Let's plan it. Tonight. Gawing totoo ang surprise mo."

I hesitated, my hands on her waist, feeling the heat of her skin. This could change everything—a power shift I hadn't seen coming. "Okay," I whispered, the decision settling like a weight. "Tell me how."

We sat on the bed, her whispering details: forging documents, timing the conception to match Ysabel's cycle, using my access to the family records. Her voice grew animated, eyes gleaming. "Mom won't suspect. She's too busy protecting Ysabel's image. And Henry Blackthorn? That sperm donor option she's considering? We can sabotage it."

"Henry who?" I asked, frowning. I'd heard rumors of Ysabel looking into alternatives if I couldn't perform, but a name?

"Blackthorn. German billionaire. Shipping tycoon. Ysabel mentioned him to Mom last week. If she goes that route, tapos na tayo. Kaya kailangan nating magmadali."

A chill ran down my spine. This was new—a revelation that tightened the noose. If Ysabel used a donor, the heir wouldn't be mine, and I'd lose my claim. "s**t. Kailangan nating pigilan 'yan."

Cynthia nodded, her nails digging into my arm. "Exactly. Ako ang magiging carrier. Seduce her into thinking it's yours, but switch it."

The plan unfolded in hushed tones, each word building the tension. My pulse thrummed, a mix of fear and thrill. This wasn't just s*x anymore; it was a takeover. But as she spoke, I saw the obsession in her eyes—the jealousy she'd hidden, now raw and demanding.

"Sigurado ka ba?" I pressed, searching her face.

"Oo. For us." She kissed me again, softer this time, but with an edge that made my stomach knot.

Hours passed in the dim light, mapping out steps: I'd distract Ysabel tomorrow, while Cynthia dug into the will's loopholes through Margarita. The cabin grew colder, but we didn't notice, lost in the conspiracy.

Finally, as dawn crept through the cracks, I checked my watch. "Kailangan kong umuwi. Ysabel's expecting me for breakfast."

Cynthia's face darkened. "Don't touch her tonight. Save it for me."

I nodded, but doubt gnawed. What if this blew up? "Cynthia—"

She cut me off, her voice fierce. "Mateo, if you back out, I'll tell Ysabel everything."

Her threat hit like a slap, her eyes cold now, the afterglow gone. I stared, realizing the shift—she held power now, the secret we shared twisting into a weapon.

"You wouldn't."

"Try me."