Trapped Between Two CEOs

Chapter 3

The kiss broke.

He pulled back just enough to speak, his hot, erratic breath still ghosting against my mouth.

“I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for.”

I reached up, grabbed his shirt, and kissed him again harder this time. My heart was racing so fast I could literally feel it pounding in my throat. *What the f**k was I actually doing?* The logical question hit my brain for a split second, but I brutally shoved it down and opened my mouth under his, surrendering completely to the heat.

He gripped the back of my neck with a firm, possessive hand.

“Do you really want this?” he asked, his voice low and raspy.

“Yes.”

His fingers moved instinctively to the tied knot of my mask, but I caught his wrist mid-air.

“No. Leave it on.”

He stopped dead. Looked at me intently through the narrow cutouts of his own mask. Then he leaned back in, kissing me with a renewed, fierce intensity, and everything started to unravel.

His hands shoved my black dress up past my hips. He pulled it smoothly over my head and dropped it to the floor. I dragged his shirt off his broad shoulders, my fingers tracing the hard muscle underneath. Our mouths stayed hungry, relentless. He kissed a trail down my throat, bit the delicate spot where my neck met my shoulder, then closed his mouth over my breast. His tongue circled the peak, teeth grazing lightly before sucking hard enough that my back arched off the floor. He switched to the other side and repeated the pattern until both were wet, tight, and sensitive.

He dropped to his knees, dragged my underwear down my legs, and put his mouth directly on my cunt.

No teasing. No slow buildup. He licked straight through my wet folds, then sealed his lips around my c**t and sucked firmly. Two of his fingers pushed inside me at the same time thick, warm, and deep curling upward toward that sensitive spot that made my thighs tremble. He f****d me with his fingers while he ate me, slow and thorough at first, then faster as my hips began rolling helplessly against his face.

“Fuck...don’t stop...”

He didn’t. He kept that punishing rhythm until I came hard right on his tongue, my thighs clamping tightly around his head as a broken, breathless cry left my mouth. He licked me gently through the lingering tremors, then stood up in one fluid movement.

I unbuckled his belt with shaking, clumsy hands, pushing his slacks and underwear down his legs. His c**k sprang free thick, heavy, hard, and already leaking clear moisture at the tip. I wrapped my fingers around it and stroked him once. A low, guttural sound escaped his chest.

He lifted me by my thighs. My bare back hit the cool wall, and I instinctively locked my legs around his waist. He lined himself up at my entrance and thrust forward in one long, unyielding stroke until he was buried to the hilt inside me.

Full. Stretching me open completely. Perfect.

He didn’t give me a single second to adjust to his size. He f****d me hard against the wall, deep, heavy strokes that forced the air straight out of my lungs. Every thrust dragged directly over that sensitive spot inside me. I held on tightly to his broad shoulders and took every inch. A sudden flash of guilt tried to surface *Kieran* but the second his name crossed my mind, the anger came rushing back with it. The endless arguments. The subtle control. I channeled all of it. I bit his lower lip, dug my nails deep into his back, and met every brutal thrust with my own hips.

“Harder,” I gasped into his ear.

He gave it to me. The pace turned electric and brutal. The sound of skin slapping echoed softly in the private room alongside the wet, rhythmic sound of his c**k moving in and out of me. My back slid slightly up the wall with every rising thrust. He shifted his angle just an inch, and something white-hot lit up behind my eyes. I cried out. He kept hitting that exact spot, completely relentless, one hand cupping under my ass to hold me steady while the other braced against the wall beside my head.

“Come on my c**k,” he growled against my mouth.

I did. The orgasm ripped through my entire body so hard my vision blurred. I clenched around him tightly, and he groaned, thrusting through my climax before burying himself deep and coming with a low, broken sound against the side of my neck.

We stayed locked together for a full minute, breathing heavily in the dim room. Then he carried me over to the velvet couch and laid me down on the cushions. He was still hard. He flipped me onto my hands and knees, gripped my hips firmly, and pushed back into me from behind.

The second round was slower, but infinitely deeper. He f****d me with long, controlled strokes while one hand reached around beneath me to rub my c**t in tight, deliberate circles. I pushed back against him to meet every stroke. The sheer intensity was unlike anything Kieran had ever given me. This stranger found places inside me I didn't even know existed. When he leaned over my back and bit the sensitive side of my neck while grinding deep inside, I came again shaking, moaning aloud into the soft sofa cushion.

He pulled out, turned me over onto my back, and settled between my thighs for a third time. Face to face. Masks still firmly on. He pushed in slowly this time, watching my face as I took every inch of him. Then he started moving again deep, steady strokes, grinding directly against my c**t with every single push. I wrapped my legs tightly around his waist and held on for dear life. The very last of my rationale was completely gone. I wanted whatever he was willing to give me. He f****d me until I came a third time harder and longer than the first two my cunt pulsing tightly around his shaft while he followed right behind me, burying himself to the root and spilling inside me with a rough, breathless groan.

After that, we collapsed together on the furniture. Sweaty. Completely spent. Still wearing our masks.

Hours later, I woke up.

My body ached in places I hadn’t felt in a long, long time. The private lounge was quiet, save for the soft hum of the building's ventilation. For a few seconds, I just lay there, half-asleep, feeling the leftover heat between my legs and the dull, satisfying soreness that confirmed everything that had happened was real. I wasn’t embarrassed yet just dazed, comfortable in a way I knew I shouldn't be.

Then I turned my head.

His mask was off.

In the faint, ambient city light filtering through the window, I saw his face clearly for the very first time. Strikingly handsome. A sharp, powerful jawline. Eyes closed peacefully in sleep. Seeing him without the mask made the entire night suddenly real and solid no longer an anonymous fantasy that could be swept under the rug. My stomach dropped into a cold pit. If he woke up right now and looked at me the same way, this wouldn't be a masked stranger anymore. It would be a real person with a real face.

I stood up, gathered my scattered clothes, and got dressed as quietly as I possibly could. I grabbed my heels, slipped out the heavy door, and left the lounge before he could open his eyes.

A one-night stand.

People have them all the time. It didn't have to mean anything.