Chapter 53

ALEXANDER

The bag thudded dully against the wall again. And again. And again.

My knuckles were raw now—split, bleeding—but it didn’t matter.

Pain wasn’t working.

Not tonight.

Not when her voice kept replaying in my head, sharp and defiant. Not when I could still see her eyes, wild with fire even as her body sagged from exhaustion.

Fucking hell.

I slammed one last blow into the bag and stepped back, chest heaving, jaw locked so tight it ached.

This wasn’t me.

I didn’t obsess.

I didn’t spiral over women.

Especially not broken little things that belonged to a chair in my basement.

I wiped the sweat from my brow and reached for the intercom panel on the wall.

“Julia,” I growled.

A pause.

Then her voice crackled through.

“Yes, sir?”

“Come to my room. Now.”

No explanation. I didn’t need to give one. Julia had worked for me long enough to know what it meant when I called like that.

Minutes later, the door creaked open, and Julia stepped inside—neat, polished, pretty. A woman who knew her place and didn’t speak unless spoken to.

I didn’t even glance at her as I sank into the leather chair by the bed, still shirtless, skin hot from the shower and the workout that failed to calm me.

“On your knees,” I said coldly.

She obeyed immediately, her movements smooth and practised.

She knelt between my legs, her hands reaching for my belt with a familiarity that should have been comforting.

But it wasn’t.

Because even as she undid my zipper, even as she took me into her mouth, I couldn’t focus.

I couldn’t shut out the memories of Alina’s defiance, her strength, her fucking spirit that refused to break.

Julia’s mouth was warm, wet, and skilled, but it was like trying to drown out a storm with a whisper.

I could feel the hollowness, the fury, the need for something more than this empty, mechanical act.

I tangled my fingers in Julia’s hair roughly, forcing her head down, trying to lose myself in the sensation, in the control.

But even as Julia worked me over, her lips and tongue moving with practised precision, I couldn’t escape the image of Alina in my mind.

Her eyes, her smile, her fucking fire—it was all I could see, all I could think about.

Julia sensed my distraction and redoubled her efforts, taking me deeper, sucking harder, her hands gripping my thighs for leverage.

She bobbed her head faster, her mouth creating a tight, wet suction that should have been enough to make me lose control. But it wasn’t.

It was like trying to start a fire with wet wood. I was hard, but unfulfilled, my body responding to her touch but my mind a million miles away.

I groaned, a sound of frustration and need, and Julia misinterpreted it, thinking she was pleasing me.

She increased her pace, her head moving up and down with an almost desperate fervour.

Her saliva coated me, making me slick and shiny, her tongue swirling around the sensitive tip before taking me deep again.

She moaned around me, the vibrations sending shocks of pleasure through my body, but it still wasn’t enough.

I could feel the tension building, the pressure in my balls, but my mind was elsewhere, lost in memories of Alina’s touch, her taste, her fucking everything.

In a sudden burst of movement, I grabbed Julia by the hair and pulled her off me.

She gasped, her eyes wide with surprise, but she didn’t dare speak.

I stood up, my cock still hard and throbbing, and threw her roughly onto the bed.

She landed with a soft thud, her skirt riding up to reveal her thighs, her blouse gaping open to show a glimpse of her lacy bra.

I crawled over her, pinning her down with my body, my hands rough as I hiked up her skirt and tore aside her panties.

She was wet, ready, but I didn’t care.

I didn’t care about her pleasure, about her needs. I only cared about mine, about the desperate need to forget, to escape, to lose myself in something primal and raw.

I entered her with a single, brutal thrust, and she cried out, her nails digging into my back.

I didn’t slow down, didn’t ease up. I fucked her hard, my hips slamming against hers, my body claiming hers with a ferocity that bordered on violence.

And as I moved inside her, as I felt her body respond to mine, I thought of Alina.

Of her strength, her defiance, her fucking spirit. I imagined it was her beneath me, her body wrapped around mine, her voice crying out my name.

I gripped Julia’s hips, my fingers digging into her soft flesh, and I pounded into her, chasing the release that felt just out of reach.

I could feel her tightening around me, her body coiling like a spring, but I didn’t care. I didn’t care if she came, if she screamed, if she begged. I only cared about myself, about the desperate need to forget.

And as I reached the edge, as I felt my orgasm building, I came with a roar, my body shaking, my mind finally, blessedly blank.

I collapsed on top of Julia, my chest heaving, my body slick with sweat, and I let the darkness take me, let it swallow me whole.

But as the haze of pleasure faded, as my breathing returned to normal, I realised the truth: I wasn’t satisfied.

Because even as I lay there, spent and empty, I was still obsessing over Alina.

Her image was still burned into my mind, her voice still echoing in my ears, her fucking spirit still haunting me.

And I knew, with a sickening certainty, that this wouldn’t be the last time.

That I would be back here, chasing the same empty release, the same fleeting freedom, over and over again.

Because Alina was under my skin, in my blood, in my fucking soul. And there was no escaping her.

No matter how hard I tried, no matter how deep I buried myself in someone else, she would always be there, always pulling me back, always consuming me.

So I rolled off Julia, my body already cooling, my mind already racing back to the basement, to the girl who owned me in ways I couldn’t understand, in ways I couldn’t control.

And I knew, with a heavy heart, that this was just the beginning.

That my obsession with Alina was far from over, and that I was just a pawn in her game, a slave to her fucking spirit.