An Accidental Night

Phoebe stood frozen, her body stiff as disbelief washed over her. Her face, already pale, turned ashen, and a cold dread settled deep within her.

She was terrified—this man was drinking the blood from her neck like a vampire.

Could it be that the manager had set her up with a sadistic psychopath? A man with some twisted, violent fetish?

Panicking, Phoebe started struggling with all her might, pushing against the man pressing her down. "No—please, stop. Don't do this!"

"Please... stop..." She repeated her plea in desperation, but the icy aura radiating from the man made it hard to breathe.

Her fear intensified as she tried to push him away, even though she had mentally prepared herself for what was to come.

But this man... this man was different. He made her heart race with sheer terror.

Angered by her resistance, Alexander's grip tightened, sending sharp pain through her body.

How dare she defy him again and again? Fine. If she wanted to fight, then she'd better be ready to face the consequences. He despised women who tried to catch his attention with cheap tricks, and he loathed her even more.

With a savage rip, he tore her dress apart. She gasped in shock as he pushed her against the cold wall.

Her resistance was futile as his cruel hands roamed her body without restraint.

She wanted to beg for mercy. This man was too terrifying. She didn't want to continue with this. She had to leave, even if it meant giving up the money. But her desperation took over, and she bit down on his arm, hard enough to draw blood, her lips trembling from the effort.

"Damn it!" Alexander's reaction was instant—his movements became even rougher, more brutal. The anger surging through him made his eyes gleam with a dangerous, predatory light.

The towering figure of the man loomed over her like the night itself, his icy hands gripping her waist tightly.

"Please... let me go..." she begged, her small hands frantically beating against his broad shoulders.

But her attempts to free herself only angered him further.

With a sharp cry of pain, Phoebe felt a sudden, agonizing sting in her chest. Alexander had cruelly pinched her breasts, twisting until the pain was unbearable.

This man was a monster. She had to escape.

Just as she tried to recover from the excruciating pain, there was another ripping sound. Her breath caught in her throat as her black dress was completely torn apart. Only her undergarments remained, exposed to the cool air of the room.

Realizing what was about to happen, Phoebe's body went cold with dread. Tears welled up in her eyes as she whispered, desperate and humiliated, "Please... I'm so scared. Don't do this to me."

But her pleas fell on deaf ears. Alexander ruthlessly tore away the last pieces of fabric, flipping her over and pressing her against the wall. His cold fingers pried her legs apart, and before she could even react, a sharp pain shot through her body as he forcefully entered her.

"Ahh!" Phoebe screamed in pain, her face contorting in agony. Tears streamed down her cheeks as the torment consumed her, the unbearable pain tearing through her body like a blade.

At some point, Phoebe was lifted and thrown onto the bed. Alexander's body pinned her down as he continued his assault. Despite his wild, relentless actions, his cold hands never once touched her lips.

To him, lips were sacred. There was only one woman he had ever kissed, and he would never kiss another.

Phoebe couldn't recall how many times she fainted from the pain, only to be jolted back to consciousness as the torturous cycle repeated.

Gradually, the unbearable agony gave way to an unfamiliar sensation, and her sobs of misery turned into soft moans of... pleasure?

It wasn't until Alexander finally satisfied his lust and pulled away that Phoebe's body went limp, unconscious.

He stood up, wrapping a towel around his waist as he headed toward the bathroom. He had never lost control like this before. What was it about her?

***

When Alexander emerged from the bathroom, the room's phone rang. He picked it up.

"Sir, Miss Roberta was in a car accident on her way..." came the voice on the other end, filled with concern.

"Car accident?" Alexander's brow furrowed, his voice cold. He glanced down at the unconscious woman on the bed, illuminated faintly by the room's dim light.

"We apologize, sir. We will send someone else immediately—"

"No need," he interrupted, hanging up the phone. Alexander stared at the woman lying on the bed, a realization dawning on him. He had taken the wrong person?

The soft, intimate lighting cast a warm glow over her body.

He gazed down at her delicate face, his fingers tracing the smooth skin of her neck and shoulders. Her features were pure, innocent, and beautiful.

She wasn't the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen—he had been surrounded by countless beauties, from seductive and fiery to cold and sophisticated.

But this woman was different. She was untouched, as pure as a lily. And now, after the night's events, her pale skin was flushed with the soft glow of passion, creating a sight that would tempt any man.

Earlier, the way she had responded... it was clear she had been a virgin.

Alexander's brow furrowed in disgust. Damn her. She had mistaken him for someone else, just as he had mistaken her.

Fury boiled inside him. Alexander, always so composed, was now seething with rage. His sharp gaze fixed on her, his hands tightening painfully around her jaw.

"Who were you waiting for tonight?" His voice was a deadly whisper.

Maybe this was all just a ploy, a carefully orchestrated trap.

If this was her way of seducing him, congratulations. She had succeeded.