Chapter 1
Tristan smirked when Alexa grabbed him by the collar the moment she opened her front door. They immediately shared a hungry kiss, their hands already exploring each other’s bodies.
“Are you the only one here?” Tristan asked while her hand gripped him between his thighs.
Alexa frantically rubbed his crotch, making his cock twitch in anticipation. In retaliation, he freed one of her breasts from her bathrobe and immediately sucked on its peak. She was fresh from the shower, her shoulder-length mane still wet and her supple skin damp. It seemed she had really prepared for their meeting—he could smell the fragrant concoction of her bath products. And that familiar musky scent—the scent of heat, of sex.
“They’ll be here in an hour or so. I deliberately asked you to come early so I could have you all to myself first,” Alexa answered as she dropped to her knees in front of him.
“Are you sure about this? You might not have the energy left to join us later.”
She laughed before pulling down his pants along with his boxer shorts.
“I’ll just watch later. You know, I have never had that pleasure before—watching you fuck other women right before my eyes. I want to experience that.”
Alexa was Tristan’s constant fuck buddy. They weren’t exclusive, but they prioritized each other when it came to sex. They had been in this setup for over a year, and so far, he could say they had a great dynamic. For the last few months, they had decided to be more adventurous. They had done swinging and orgies, and tonight, Alexa had invited two of her female friends to join them. Usually, she only invited one woman when she wanted to share him. And tonight, she just wanted to watch? Man, that would be so hot.
Tristan tilted Alexa’s face up by pulling her hair at the back of her head. “Then I will give you a good show,” he told her with a lopsided grin. “Now, give my dick some attention.”
Blowjobs were his favorite part of sex, and this woman was always fantastic at it.
Tristan groaned when Alexa took his length into her mouth. He practically had her routine memorized—from cradling his balls to licking the hard length before sucking the tip. He also anticipated the rhythmic push-and-pull of her mouth along his shaft. Yeah, everything she was doing was perfectly predictable, but she still never failed to arouse him.
He pressed the back of her head, forcing her to take him even deeper. He heard her gag, drool already pooling from her mouth. He pulled out and hauled her to her feet. Turning her around, he roughly pushed her bathrobe off her shoulders. Alexa gyrated her hips when her buttocks came into contact with his maleness. She shrieked when he gave her thigh one hard slap, signaling her to open her legs for him. Tristan pressed his left palm flat against her belly while his right hand slid down to her dripping folds.
“Oh, Tristan!” she mewled when he bit her shoulder as his fingers dipped into her wetness. Alexa gasped when he thrust two fingers inside her waiting heat. Her eyes widened as she looked back at him.
“Hey, don’t make me squirt this time! It’s too messy; I just showered,” she warned him with a giggle when he started moving his fingers inside her. “Tristan, I said—ooooh!”
Alexa became restless the moment Tristan’s fingers found their target. He pressed his palm harder against her lower belly and intensified his assault on her G-spot.
She was trembling as she neared the edge. “Gosh, you’re such a beast!” she cried out loud before wailing into her orgasm.
Tristan didn’t stop impaling her pussy as she sprayed liquid onto the marble floor. Alexa let out a peculiar sound—a mix between a dying animal and a woman tasting an otherworldly kind of glory for the very first time. Ah, whatever. One thing was for sure: he had sent her straight to the gates of heaven. He was just that good; no woman had ever complained about his skills.
And he wasn’t done with Alexa yet.
Tristan had never used a rubber when fucking her. They both knew they were clean; they got regular check-ups, and contraceptive pills protected her.
Still weak and shaking from her climax, he entered her from behind in one hard push. Alexa’s voice was hoarse as she screamed, her knees completely giving out. When Tristan pulled her hair back so she would look up at him, her expression was a beautiful mess. That face... he took immense pleasure in seeing that exact expression on the women he slept with. A strangely beautiful face that looked as if it were losing its life, yet gaining something far more exquisite in return. Substance, maybe that was it.
“One of these days... I-I’m going to die of pleasure from what you do to me,” Alexa breathed out in broken pants as Tristan ruthlessly pounded her from behind.
He lifted her without breaking their union and placed her against the wall. He pressed his weight into her back, forcing her to bend over and brace her hands against the wall. She was going to need the support; he planned to rapidly pummel her pussy.
“Come again, Alexa,” he ordered as he slammed harder and deeper. He smiled as he felt her inner muscles contract. “Aah, fuck. That’s it. Give it to me...”
“You’re going to make me go first again, aren’t you?” Alexa guessed, following it with a laugh.
“Yeah,” Tristan answered, pressing a kiss to her nape. “I want to shoot my load on your face.”
“O-oooh!” she screamed as she began climbing her peak. “Tristan! Shiiit!”
He continued ramming into her as she climaxed, holding her quivering body as she came down from the heights of her orgasm, almost collapsing in his arms.
Though weak, she was still full of bliss as she dropped to her knees before him. Tristan pumped his cock with his hand and growled as he orgasmed with his eyes wide open. He watched as his cum spewed onto his lover’s beautiful face. Alexa licked her lips with a long “mmm” and massaged the thick liquid into her neck.
“Gosh, I missed you!” she said breathlessly after he pulled her up. He picked up her robe from the floor and handed it to her so she could wipe her face. “I think I just want you all to myself tonight. I’ll cancel the—”
“Hey, hey,” Tristan cut her off. He knew she was just joking, but he wanted to make a point. He hated being controlled by any woman. That was the main reason he avoided having a girlfriend or even going on steady dates. “A deal is a deal,” he insisted.
“Alright, fine!” She giggled. “Can you blame me? You were just too good.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “When are we seeing each other again? I want you all to myself, Tristan. Let’s go out of town for a week!”
He clicked his tongue when his smartphone rang from the pocket of his pants on the floor. He already knew who was calling and what it was about.
Tristan pulled the phone away from his ear as his father instantly launched into a tirade on the other line.
“Didn’t you get my text? I told you, I can’t make it,” he said with a scowl.
“And I already told you that you cannot miss this dinner because we have something important to discuss!”
“Why can’t you just tell me over the phone?”
“I can’t.”
“What, are you going to disinherit me?” Tristan chuckled, winking at Alexa.
“Thank you. You just gave me a brilliant idea.”
“Dad, come on, it was just a joke—”
“You’re getting married, Tristan.”
He almost dropped the phone. His brain seemed to short-circuit. “W-what?!”
“You heard me. You will marry the woman I choose, and you cannot refuse, or you will lose your inheritance.”
“But Dad—”
“Come home right now so we can discuss the details.”
“I don’t want to get married—”
“Get in here. NOW!”
The line went dead. Tristan was left staring open-mouthed at his phone when Alexa approached him.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“I have to go.”
“What? What about the—”
“Cancel it. I’ll just call you.” He hurriedly started getting dressed.
Alexa frowned. “Is there a problem?”
“A massive one.” He quickly pulled on his T-shirt and headed for the door. “My happy days are officially over.”
“W-what?!”
“I’m getting married.”
Tristan practically sprinted out of the house, not even noticing that his shirt was inside out.
Helena let out an exasperated breath when Danson stood up from the sofa in sheer annoyance. He stomped over to the window of his condo unit.
“I already told you about this before we even became official, didn’t I?” she told him, moving from her spot on the floor to sit on the sofa.
She had just finished giving him a blowjob, and out of all the times she had done so, this was the only time he wasn’t ecstatic. Maybe she shouldn’t have broken the news just then, but if not now, when? They were always bound to reach this point anyway.
“Yes, but I didn’t think you’d actually push through with it if we stayed together this long. You’ve been my girlfriend for almost two years, Helena.”
She clenched her fists in her lap. It was probably sheer madness to even get into a relationship, knowing her entire life that she was raised solely to continue her family’s banking legacy. Her parents were married the same way—a strictly business arrangement. Both were only children from filthy rich clans. Her father’s family owned Tuazon Banking Services, widely known as TBS. They had bought out two banks back in the day, paving the way for the company to become one of the largest in the Philippines today. Her mother’s family was one of the key shareholders. And now, TBS was in the middle of a transaction to merge with its biggest competitor, PhilGold Bank.
The two titans were planning to merge to fiercely compete with the current leading bank in the country. The logistics had been thoroughly studied and vetted by international experts and analysts. If the merger pushed through, they would create the second-largest bank in the Philippines. The founders, TBS’s Vasco Tuazon and PhilGold’s Francisco Cartagena, had already held several meetings about it. However, Francis wanted to retain the name PhilGold Bank during the rebranding phase. Vasco agreed, but on one massive condition: his daughter had to marry Francis’s son.
“Sucks not being rich,” Helena heard Danson mutter.
She forced a laugh. “You say that as if you grew up in poverty.”
Danson came from a clan of artists. He was a painter and a visual communication professor, and his family owned a major advertising firm.
He turned to look at her. “Helena, we both know the truth. I’m not crazy rich like you. And I never will be.”
Helena offered him a small smile. “That has never been an issue for me, has it?”
“Well, it’s a problem now. You’re getting married to someone else.”
“I-I’m sorry,” she whispered. Damn it. She wasn’t the type to apologize, even when she knew she was at fault, but right now, it was the only right thing to say to her boyfriend.
“I was stupid to get into a relationship with you in the first place; I stopped thinking clearly the moment I met you at the gallery.”
It felt like it was just yesterday when she first met Danson Del Mundo. She had been drawn into a gallery hosting his art exhibit. The first painting she bought from him was still hanging in her bedroom.
“Yeah, we were both stupid,” Helena said with a light laugh.
How could she resist him? Danson possessed an old-school gentlemanly charm. He was smart, very mature, responsible, and kind; it was just a bonus that he was incredibly talented and ridiculously good-looking.
That finally earned a smile from him. “We couldn’t resist each other, could we?” he said, walking back to the sofa.
They had dated for several months before making things officially steady. Danson knew absolutely everything about Helena’s life, and that never stopped them from pursuing the relationship.
He sat down beside her. “Maybe if I got you pregnant…” he suggested mischievously.
She laughed. If there was such a thing as an off-key laugh, that was exactly what Helena’s sounded like. “Too bad handjobs can’t get someone pregnant.”
“Speaking of handjobs...” Danson laughed, leaning in to kiss her on the mouth. Soon enough, his hands began to wander over her chest.
She whimpered as his kisses trailed down her neck, his hands lowering the back zipper of her dress. Danson alternately kissed and squeezed her breasts once he freed them from her bra. She shifted to help him get rid of her blue skater dress. After completely stripping her, he pulled her onto his lap. She grabbed his hair when his hand started to toy with her pussy. His thumb pressed and circled her clitoris, making her grind her hips against the sensation.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to put it in? It’s just my fingers,” he asked as he swiped over her soaked slit.
Helena shook her head. “Just do my clit.”
That was the absolute limit of what she allowed Danson to do. He would make her come with his fingers without ever penetrating her. He was somewhat satisfied with the arrangement, and she always made sure that her skills in fellatio and handjobs kept him happy.
She adamantly refused to go all the way because she was terrified of getting pregnant. She simply didn’t trust contraceptives. Knowing her luck, pills and condoms were bound to fail on her. And, honestly, she just wasn’t comfortable with it overall.
That deeply ingrained anxiety meant that every time she made out with Danson, she couldn’t allow herself to completely get lost in the heat. Her entire being solidly rejected penetrative sex, making it incredibly easy for her not to give in. Thankfully, Danson was never overly pushy about it.
Her training from years ago really paid off. She was always in total control of her mind and body when it came to sex.
Biting her lip, Helena arched her body as she neared the edge. Danson’s fingers moved faster, massaging her clitoris from side to side. She let out a soft moan as she finally reached orgasm.
He hugged her, panting softly.
“I know this goes against every moral standard society sets, but I was just thinking… can’t we still be together even if you’re married?” Danson suddenly asked.
Helena stared at him, though she wasn’t entirely surprised he had thought of it.
“I mean, look at your parents. Their marriage never stopped your father from being with the real woman he loves, did it?”
“I-I don’t know, Danson. I’ve thought about it too, but right now… the truth is, my mind is a mess.”
His eyes widened slightly. “Don’t tell me you’re actually going to take this marriage seriously?”
Helena didn’t answer. She slipped off his lap and headed straight for the bathroom. He quickly followed and gently caught her arm.
“Helena...” Danson waited for an explanation.
She looked back at him, her eyes narrowing. “Just let me do this, alright? After all, we never really had any concrete plans for the future. We had a clear understanding before we entered this relationship—that we would just enjoy every single chance we get to be together.”
Danson opened his mouth to speak but quickly shut it, seemingly taking back whatever he wanted to say. Helena knew he always hated arguing with her. She gently pulled her arm from his grasp and proceeded to the bathroom. When she came out, Danson was back to his spot by the window. Quietly, she put her clothes back on.
“Do you want to say something?” she eventually prompted.
Danson only ever went silent whenever they had an argument, which rarely happened. They agreed on almost everything, which made their relationship incredibly smooth-sailing.
“Do you even want to know?” he shot back, unable to hide his resentment.
Helena couldn’t answer right away. She could easily guess what Danson wanted to say. He was already thirty-three years old, definitely ready to settle down.
“Just as I thought,” he muttered when she remained quiet.
She wanted to say sorry again but stopped herself. She felt it was getting redundant, constantly apologizing for something they both knew was absolutely inevitable.
“I know that you want to marry me and have kids; I have felt it from you all this time, Danson,” Helena finally said, stepping toward him. She stopped just a meter away from where he stood.
He turned to face her. “Do you feel the same way?”
She met his gaze directly. “Honestly? No. I’ve told you time and again that my future regarding marriage and a family completely depends on our business. I stopped allowing myself to dream or plan for it because I know it will never come true.”
“What about my proposition earlier? We can still build a family even if you’re married—”
“No, Danson,” Helena rejected firmly, shaking her head several times. “Just... no. I can’t.”
“S-so you’re just going to leave me?”
She averted her gaze. Why couldn’t she have just been born into a normal family? One without massive wealth, but with the freedom to do whatever she wanted with her life.
“When is the wedding?” Danson asked quietly.
She answered flatly. “No date yet. I haven’t even met my fiancé in person.”
She hadn’t even bothered to look up Tristan Cartagena’s face online. He was somewhat familiar to her anyway, considering he was the son of one of the most famous actresses in the Philippines. She recalled that he even modeled in the past. Whatever. At least her future husband was good-looking.
Danson rubbed the back of his neck. “Jesus,” he muttered.
She turned her back on him. “I gotta go. For now, maybe it would be best if we didn’t see each other,” she said, walking toward the center table to grab her red Gucci top-handle bag.
Danson let out a bitter laugh, making her look back at him. “How could you talk like that? So… casually, like we’re just talking about a business transaction.”
“Well, this is about business, Danson,” she told him as she headed for the door. “I’ve told you from the very start: my entire life is a business arrangement.”
The silence in Danson’s home was so profound that if someone dropped a needle, she surely would have heard it before she finally walked out the door.
