"Bend over." The masked stranger commanded and Rosella swallowed hard.
She did just as she was told, the desk pressed against her stomach as she bent over it, her naked body trembling with a mixture of terror and anticipation she couldn't name.
Behind her, the man brought out his already hardened co-ck from his boxer.
"Stay exactly like that," he said, his voice rougher now, sounding hungry and dark.
Rosella's fingers gripped the edge of the desk, her knuckles turning white. Her breath came in short, shallow gasps.
"Why can't I say no and move away? What is wrong with me?" She wondered inwardly but before any answer could come, the man's hands had settled on her lower back, warm and possessive.
The touch sent electricity shooting through her spine and her mind going blank again.
"You're shaking," he observed, his thumb tracing slow circles against her skin.
"Are you scared?" He asked and Rosella gritted her teeth. She wanted to let him know that she was one of the youngest, feared businesswoman in this city...
So if anyone should be scared right now, it should be the man. However, her heart skipped a beat before she could open her mouth.
As if on cue, to intentionally stop whatever was going on in her head, his hand slid lower, over the curve of her ass, squeezing roughly.
A whimper escaped her throat. Her body was still hypersensitive from the orgasm he had commanded from her minutes ago. Every nerve ending felt exposed, raw.
"Please..." The word slipped out before she could stop it.
"Please what?" His fingers trailed between her thighs, finding the wetness there.
"Please stop? Or please don't stop?"
Rosella couldn't answer, she didn't know the answer.
He chuckled darkly. "Your body knows, even if your mind doesn't."
And with that, he pushed two fingers inside her without warning.
Rosella gasped, her back arching involuntarily. He pumped them slowly, deliberately, his other hand gripping her hip to keep her in place.
"So wet," he murmured appreciatively. "So ready. You came minutes ago and you're already desperate for more."
Shame flooded through her, mixing with arousal in a way that made her dizzy.
"I'm not..." she started to protest.
His fingers curled inside her, finding that spot that made her vision blur. "Liar."
A moan tore from her lips, loud and uncontrolled. Her hips pushed back against his hand, seeking more.
"That's better," he said with satisfaction. "Stop pretending you don't want this."
He withdrew his fingers abruptly, leaving her empty and aching. Before she could process the loss, she felt something much larger pressing against her back entrance.
Him. All of his hardness and boy, this man was huge.
"Wait, I can't..." Rosella's eyes widened. She had never taken it in the other entrance before.
He pushed inside in one slow, devastating thrust.
The stretch was immediate and overwhelming. Rosella cried out, her fingers scrabbling against the desk surface. He was thick, filling her completely, and the angle, bent over the desk like this, made everything feel impossibly deeper.
"Breathe. Relax and breathe. You can take it." he commanded, holding still inside her.
She tried. Her body fought against the intrusion, muscles clenching reflexively.
His hand slid up her spine, fingers tangling in her hair. He pulled her head back, forcing her to arch.
"I said relax," he repeated, his voice husky.
Something about the command or maybe the position, or the hand in her hair made her body surrender. The tension bled out of her muscles.
He groaned low in his throat. "That's it. Good girl."
Then he moved.
The first thrust drove the air from her lungs. The second made her see stars. By the third, she was moaning uncontrollably, all pretense of resistance shattered.
And more wetness trickled down her thighs, threatening to flood the floor.
Even the CEO didn't know she could be that wet.
He set a brutal pace, each thrust pushing her forward against the desk. The sound of skin meeting skin filled the room, obscene and primal.
"You feel incredible, so tight. So perfect." he growled, his grip on her hip tightening hard enough to bruise.
Rosella couldn't form words. She could barely form thoughts, actually. There was only sensation, the stretch, the fullness, the relentless rhythm that was destroying every carefully constructed wall she'd ever built.
"Put two fingers inside your c-unt, make yourself come while I'm inside you." he ordered, his voice rough with exertion.
Her hand moved between her legs instantly, finding her clit and circling frantically. The dual sensation, his co-ck pounding into her from behind, her fingers working desperately, built pressure so intense she thought she might break apart.
"That's it," he encouraged, his thrusts becoming harder, faster. "Come for me. I want to feel you fall apart around me."
The orgasm hit her so hard.
Rosella screamed, her entire body convulsing as pleasure ripped through her in waves so intense they bordered on pain. Her inner walls clenched around him rhythmically, drawing him deeper.
"Fuck," he hissed, his rhythm faltering. "Yes, just like that."
He didn't stop. Even as she trembled through the aftershocks, he kept moving, kept taking, drawing out her climax until she was sobbing with overstimulation.
"Please, I..." she gasped, not sure if she was begging him to stop or continue.
"You can." His hand fisted tighter in her hair. "You will. Give me one more."
"I can't," she whimpered, but her body was already responding. Her fingers were touching her clit again, already building toward another peak she didn't think was possible.
He shifted the angle slightly, and suddenly he was hitting that spot inside her with every thrust. The hand on her hip moved to her breast, pinching her nipple roughly.
The combination shattered her.
The second orgasm crashed over her before she'd recovered from the first. This time she couldn't even scream, the pleasure was too intense, stealing her voice, her breath, her sanity.
She felt him stiffen behind her, felt his grip become bruising as his own release finally took him. He drove deep one last time, groaning her name as he came inside her ass.
Rosella's legs trembled and she drew out a deep breath, thinking it was over. But was it?
His hand gripped her hip, pulling her back slightly.
Before she could process what was happening, his huge co-ck was entering her from a different angle... He was inside her front now.
She couldn't believe how he had remained that hard after having cummed just a moment ago.
"I can't..." She was saying, believing that her body already oversensitive from two orgasms, couldn't handle another round of sensation.
"I'm not finished with you. You will give me one more." He cut her off then began driving into her, relentlessly.
Her body betrayed her again, responding despite her exhaustion, she was creaming all over his hardness and he didn't give her a breathing space.
The third orgasm ripped through her with devastating force. Rosella screamed, her entire body convulsing as pleasure tore her apart. Her legs gave out completely, only his grip keeping her from collapsing.
He thrust deep one final time, his own release following hers with a guttural groan.
For a long moment, neither of them moved. The only sound was their ragged breathing.
Then slowly, carefully, he withdrew.
Rosella collapsed forward onto the desk, her legs unable to support her weight. Her entire body trembled with exhaustion. She felt hollowed out, utterly spent.
Behind her, she heard him adjusting his clothes, the rustle of fabric, the whisper of a zipper. When she tried to turn her head to look at him, darkness crept in at the edges of her vision.
"Sleep," he said softly, and it wasn't a command this time. Almost gentle.
Rosella's eyes fluttered closed. She couldn't fight it and consciousness slipped away like water through her fingers.
~~~~~~~~
The man stood over Rosella's unconscious form, watching the slow rise and fall of her chest.
She had collapsed half on the desk, half slumped to the side, her body marked with the evidence of what they'd done---flushed skin, trembling limbs, his handprints on her hips.
She looked vulnerable, destroyed and beautiful.
A smirk tugged at his lips beneath the mask.
He adjusted his clothes fully, then moved to where her laptop sat open on the desk beside her. The screen was still lit, her design software glowing softly.
His fingers flew over the keyboard, navigating through her files with practiced ease and he found what he was looking for: the men's shoe design she'd been working on all evening.
He watched the file copied quickly, his lips pressed together in an unreadable expression.
When it finished, he ejected the drive and slipped it back into his pocket. He took one last look at the laptop screen, then closed it quietly.
He turned back to Rosella, sprawled on the desk, naked and utterly defenseless.
He adjusted his mask, checked that he'd left no trace of his presence, and walked toward the door.
"We're just getting started, Rosella Taylor," he murmured, his voice low and dark with promise.
Then he slipped out of the room as silently as he'd entered.