Albert's POV
I leaned back in my leather chair, the glow of my laptop casting shadows in my study. It was earlier that day, before Miranda's dramatic arrival, and I was flipping through her file—college records, photos from her social media, the works. Eighteen, orphaned, straight-A student, untouched. A virgin. My kind of challenge. Her doe-eyed innocence in those pictures got me hard just thinking about it. I'd built a tech empire after quitting porn, but old habits die hard—I still craved that rush of breaking someone new.
The deal with her aunt was easy. Carla was desperate, drowning in gambling debts. A few million and she handed over Miranda like a prize. I smirked, closing the laptop. Time to meet my new toy.
Fast forward to that night, I pushed open the bedroom door where I'd left Miranda after her little tantrum in the foyer. She was curled up on the bed, eyes red from crying, looking like a scared kitten in the oversized room. Damn, she was prettier in person—petite frame, soft curves, those big brown eyes glaring at me.
"Still sulking?" I asked, shutting the door with a soft click.
"Get out," she snapped, clutching a pillow like it'd protect her.
I chuckled, setting a bottle of wine and two glasses on the nightstand. "Not how this works, sweetheart. You're in my house now, so you will follow my rules."
"Your rules? This is kidnapping!" Her voice shook, but there was fire in it. Cute.
I sat on the bed's edge, pouring a glass. "Drink. It'll calm you down."
"I don't want your stupid wine!" She threw the pillow at me. It bounced off my chest, and I laughed.
"Feisty. I like that." I leaned closer, catching her wrist when she tried to swing at me. "Here's the deal, Miranda. You're mine for now. Behave, and you'll live like a queen. Fight me, and... well, it's still gonna be fun. For me."
She yanked her wrist free, scooting back. "You're disgusting."
"Am I?" I sipped the wine, watching her. "You'll change your mind. They always do."
"They? How many girls have you done this to?"
I shrugged. "Enough to know what I'm doing." I stood, loosening my tie. "Let's start with dinner. You didn't eat downstairs."
"I'm not hungry," she muttered, but her stomach growled, betraying her.
"Liar." I smirked, pulling a tray from a cart by the door—steak, mashed potatoes, some fancy greens. "Eat. Then we talk."
She eyed the food like it was poisoned but finally grabbed a fork, stabbing at the steak. "Talk about what? How you're a creep who buys people?"
I laughed, sitting back down. "About your new life. I'm Albert Mondragon, tech billionaire, former adult film star. I don't force women—not really. I teach them. Pleasure, mostly. You'll thank me later."
"Thank you? For locking me up?" She snorted, chewing angrily. "You're delusional."
"Maybe." I leaned in, lowering my voice. "But you felt something earlier, didn't you? When I kissed you downstairs?"
Her cheeks flushed, and she looked away. "No."
"Liar again." I grinned. "Finish eating. Lesson one starts tonight."
She froze, fork halfway to her mouth. "Lesson one? What's that supposed to mean?"
"You'll see." I stood, giving her space. "I'm patient, Miranda. But not forever."
She ate in silence, sneaking glances at me. I could tell her mind was racing—fear, anger, maybe a hint of curiosity. Good. That's where I wanted her.
After dinner, I cleared the tray and locked the door. "Time to learn."
"Learn what?" Her voice was small now, eyes wide as I approached.
"How to feel good." I sat beside her, brushing her hair back. She flinched but didn't pull away. "You're a virgin, right?"
She nodded, barely audible. "Yeah."
"Perfect." I cupped her face, thumb tracing her lips. "First rule: you do what I say. In return, I make you feel things you've never dreamed of."
"I don't want this," she whispered, but her eyes flicked to my mouth.
"Your body does." I kissed her, slow at first, then deeper, tongue teasing hers. She gasped, hands pushing at my chest, but she didn't stop me.
I pulled back, stripping off my shirt. Her eyes widened at my abs, my chest. "Touch me."
"No way." But her fingers twitched.
I grabbed her hand, pressing it to my skin. "Feel that. It's yours now."
She yanked back, but I was already moving, unbuttoning her blouse. "Stop fighting, Miranda."
"Albert, please..." Her voice broke as I exposed her breasts—perky, full, nipples pink and hard. "Fuck, gorgeous tits," I murmured, palming one, pinching the nipple until she moaned.
"Don't," she gasped, but her hips shifted.
I slid her pants down, panties too, revealing her pussy—tight, glistening, a neat strip of hair above. "Look at this pretty little cunt." I spread her thighs, diving in. My tongue parted her folds, lapping slow, then thrusting deep into her wet heat. She tasted sweet, her juices coating my lips as I fucked her with my tongue, sucking her clit hard. "Oh God!" she cried, hands in my hair, hips bucking.
"Come for me," I growled, doubling down, tongue swirling inside her pussy walls. She screamed, climaxing, soaking my face.
I stood, dropping my pants. My dick sprang free—thick, veined, throbbing, head slick with pre-cum. "Your turn."
Her eyes widened. "No, I can't—"
"You can." I guided her head down. "Open."
Her lips parted, hesitant, then covered my dick, stretching wide around the head. Her tongue flicked the underside, clumsy but eager as I pushed deeper, hitting her throat. "Suck it, baby," I groaned, thrusting gently. She gagged, then found a rhythm, mouth sliding along my shaft, wet and warm. I tangled my fingers in her hair, guiding her. "Good girl."
I pulled out before I came, flipping her onto her back. "Ready for more?"
"No," she whispered, but her legs spread slightly.
My dick nudged her pussy, head parting her slick lips. I pushed slow, stretching her virgin hole, inch by inch, until I was buried deep, balls against her ass. "So fucking tight," I grunted, thrusting hard. Her breasts bounced with each pump, pussy clenching my cock like a vice. "Take it all."
She moaned, nails digging into my shoulders, coming again as I pounded, my cum shooting deep inside her, filling her up.
We collapsed, panting. "Not bad for lesson one," I said, smirking.
She didn't answer, just stared at the ceiling, chest heaving. Then my phone buzzed—a text about a corporate leak at my company. "Fuck," I muttered, grabbing it.
"What's wrong?" she asked, voice shaky.
"Business, stay here." I stood, pulling on my pants. Her eyes followed me, confused, scared—and maybe something else.
As I stepped out, I glanced back. She was still on the bed, naked, vulnerable. Mine. But that damn text meant trouble, and I had to handle it—now.