Rosella's fingers were buried deep inside her hot core, pumping in and out and she couldn't stop.
Her eyes were locked on the masked stranger standing three feet away, watching her with dark, hungry intensity, while her hand moved in desperate circles, chasing pleasure she didn't understand but couldn't resist.
A raw, shameless moan tore from her throat. It was foreign and uncontrolled.
"No. Stop. What are you doing? Before a complete stranger?"
Her mind screamed protests her body refused to hear. Her hips rolled forward, seeking more friction, more pressure, more of this insanity that had taken control of her.
She was Rosella Taylor. Billionaire CEO. She didn't take orders from anyone.
So why was she standing naked in a hotel room, legs spread, fingers buried deep, performing for a stranger who had broken in and commanded her to touch herself?
How did this even start?
~~~~~~~~
Ten Minutes Earlier;
Rosella had been working at the desk, perfecting the design for RA Brand's new men's shoe. She had escaped her thirtieth birthday party organised by her mother, for this peace, quietude, and productivity.
However, everything had been scattered when this audacious, mysterious, masked stranger, dressed in all black, walked inside her hotel room, no, actually barged in.
He didn't knock. He just opened the door and walked in, his tall, built frame filling the space, his intoxicating cologne invading the air and her senses.
"Distracting cleavage you have there..." He had said when she turned around in panic and asked who he was and why he would walk in just like that.
His eyes had been fixed on her slightly exposed chest.
And before Rosella could process this rudeness, he had commanded;
"Strip!"
One word. Simple. Absolute.
And her body had obeyed.
She'd tried to resist, tried to call security, tried to understand what was happening as her hands moved to unbutton her blouse without permission.
"Completely, Rosella." he'd commanded further when she hesitated.
He knew her?
Before she could wonder how he knew her name, her fingers had started working and her clothes had fallen away piece by piece, blouse, trouser, bra, panties, until she stood naked and trembling.
"Spread your legs."
They'd parted.
"Touch yourself."
And then....
~~~~~~~~
Now she was lost.
Her fingers moved faster, slick with arousal she couldn't deny. The pleasure built in waves, crashing higher with each stroke.
"That's it. Look how wet you are. Look how much you need this." The stranger murmured, his voice husky.
"I don't need this." Her mind protested but her body called her a liar. Wetness coated her fingers, dripped down her inner thighs. Her nipples were hard peaks, aching for attention she refused to give them.
"Uhmmm," she whimpered, and instantly hated it. It sounded like she was begging. She was, indeed.
"Say it..." The man took a step closer.
"I can't---" Her words broke on a gasp as her fingers found the G-spot, sending electricity shooting through her core.
"You can. Tell me what you want." He encouraged softly.
"I want..." The words died as another moan escaped her. "I want to come."
The admission shattered something inside her. She was the woman who commanded boardrooms, who made millionaires nervous, who never showed weakness.
And here she was now, begging a masked stranger for permission to orgasm.
"Not yet," he said, and her hand froze involuntarily. "Slower. Make it last."
A whimper of frustration escaped her lips yet her fingers obeyed his command, slowing to a torturous pace that kept her on the edge without pushing her over.
"Why? Why are you doing this to me?"The question came out broken, desperate.
"I'm not doing anything. You're doing this to yourself. Your hand, your choice, your need." He replied, his eyes never leaving hers.
"That's not--- hmmm" Her protest dissolved into incoherent sounds as he stepped closer, invading her space.
She could feel the heat radiating from his body now. She could smell something dark and masculine that made her core clench with fresh arousal.
"Look at yourself," he commanded. "See what you've become."
Against her will, Rosella's gaze dropped. She saw her hand between her legs, fingers glistening. Her thighs trembling with the effort to stay standing. Her chest heaving with ragged breaths.
She looked wrecked and desperate. Nothing like the composed CEO who had entered this hotel room hours ago.
"No, this isn't me." she whispered, shame and arousal warring inside her.
"This is exactly you." His hand reached out, fingers ghosting along her jaw without quite touching.
"This is who you are when no one's watching. When control doesn't matter. When you finally let yourself feel."
His almost-touch sent shivers racing across her skin. Her free hand gripped the edge of the desk behind her for support.
"Faster now, I want to see you break." he ordered. "
Her hand obeyed instantly, moving with renewed urgency. The pressure built rapidly, coiling tighter in her core.
"No, no... Don't let him see..." Her mind started to race but his authoritative voice cut through.
"Eyes on me. Don't you dare look away." he commanded when her eyelids started to flutter.
She forced her eyes open, forced herself to meet his gaze even as pleasure threatened to overwhelm her.
"That's better." His voice dropped lower, darker. "Now come for me, Rosella Taylor. Come while I watch you fall apart."
The use of her name combined with the command shattered her completely and the orgasm hit so hard.
Rosella cried out, her back arching violently as pleasure ripped through her body in relentless waves. Her fingers kept moving, drawing out the climax until she was gasping, shaking, barely able to stand.
Her knees buckled. She would have collapsed if not for the desk supporting her weight.
The stranger watched it all with dark satisfaction, drinking in every moan, every tremor, every moment of her surrender.
When the aftershocks finally subsided, Rosella stood panting, her entire body flushed and trembling. Sweat dampened her skin. Her hand hung limply at her side, slick with evidence of what he had witnessed.
She'd never come that hard in her life.
"Beautiful," he murmured, and the genuine appreciation in his tone made something twist in her chest.
Rosella couldn't speak, couldn't think. Her mind was blank except for one horrifying realization:
She had just given a complete stranger the most intense orgasm of her life, and she didn't even know his name.
"Who are you?" she finally managed, her voice hoarse.
The man's lips curved behind the mask---a smile that promised dark things.
"Does it matter?" He closed the remaining distance between them, his body nearly touching hers. "You're going to give me everything I want regardless."
"I won't---" she started to protest.
His hand shot out, gripping her hip possessively. The sudden contact after all the teasing near-touches made her gasp.
"You will, because your body already belongs to me. It knew before your mind did." he said with absolute certainty.
His other hand slid up her spine, fingers tangling in her hair. He pulled her head back, exposing her throat.
"And now," he whispered against her ear, his breath hot on her skin, "we're going to find out exactly how much more you can take."
Rosella's eyes widened as she felt him position himself behind her, his still-clothed body pressed against her naked one.
She should fight, scream or do something, instead, when he commanded her to bend over the desk, her body moved without hesitation.
Because he was right.
Some part of her, some deep, hidden part she had never acknowledged, had already surrendered completely.
And the night had only just begun.
From behind, she heard the soft sound of a zipper, and realized with a mixture of terror and desperate anticipation that he was about to take everything.
"Spread your legs wider." The command landed more heavily than the others.
Rosella's core twitched and her legs spread.