The Fated One Night Stand with MR. Billionaire

*Laura's Point of View Thud! I jolted awake at the sound. My eyes flew open to a ceiling I didn’t recognize. Golden lighting. White silk curtains. What the hell? My throat was dry, my body sore, and my head spun like it had taken a full bottle of tequila. Where was I? The sheets wrapped around me weren’t mine. The air smelled of expensive cologne and danger. I sat up. Too fast. A sharp wave of dizziness hit me. My legs trembled as I pulled myself to the edge of the bed. And then, I heard a man's voice. A man’s voice. Smooth. Confident. Dangerous. “...yes, Madam Karen. She’s still knocked out.” My heart froze. Karen?! That voice— it was close. Too close. I turned my head slowly. A man stood near the dresser with a phone pressed to his ear. Tattooed arm. Half-buttoned black shirt. He ended the call and turned toward me, eyes scanning me like a prize on display. “You’re up,” he said, smiling in a way that made my skin crawl. “What the hell is this? Where am I?” My voice cracked, but I tried to sound brave. “You’re in one of Top Dawg Hotel’s suites,” he said, stepping closer. Everything started coming back to me in flashes. I was cleaning the sixth-floor lounge when Karen pulled me aside, sweet-talking me with fake kindness. Then— bam!—a prick in my neck. A syringe. My body had gone numb and foggy. And now I was here. The man licked his lips and pulled his shirt off. “Don’t fight it, babe. Just let's not make this any difficult.” My eyes widened. “You’re insane!” He grabbed my arm. “Hey, babe. Don't say that—” He kept coming closer and closer to me. I swung. My fist caught him off-guard, smacking his jaw. His eyes burned. He lunged, but I was faster —I kneed him in the thigh and scrambled off the bed. “Damn it, you b***h!” he growled, chasing after me. I yanked the hotel door open, barefoot and in a panic, sprinting down the hallway. My legs felt like jelly, the effects of whatever they injected me with still in my system. But I didn’t stop. Down the stairs. Four floors. I nearly tripped on the second but caught myself on the railing. “Somebody help me!” I screamed as I reached the lobby stairs. That was when I crashed— literally— into someone. Hard chest. Tall. Smelled like whiskey and danger. “Whoa, easy there...” the stranger muttered, holding me steady. His voice was slurred. He was drunk. Very drunk. But still... damn, he was hot. Short dark hair. Sculpted face. A stubble that looked criminal. His tie was hanging loose, his blazer gone, and he reeked of scotch. “Please,” I begged, grabbing his shirt like a lifeline. “Someone’s trying to hurt me. Please— just take me somewhere safe!” His eyes narrowed, scanning me from head to toe. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” “I will be one if you don’t help me!” I cried. “Please!” He hesitated for a moment—just a moment—then nodded. “Come on.” He wrapped an arm around my waist and led me to the elevator. I didn’t even notice which floor he pressed. My heart was still racing. Inside the suite, I stumbled to the couch and collapsed. He poured himself a drink, then turned back to me. “You alright?” “No.” I buried my face in my palms. “God, what the hell is happening to me?” He sat beside me, one arm thrown over the couch, relaxed, tipsy... and way too attractive. I was supposed to be scared—but all I could think of was how strong his arms looked. His gaze met mine. “You’re beautiful.” “I’m a mess.” “You’re a sexy mess.” Maybe it was the drug still in my system. Maybe it was the chaos. Maybe it was just pure stupid desperation. But when his lips brushed against mine, I didn’t pull away. I kissed him back. Hard. Our lips crashed again, and the tension snapped. I tore at his shirt, yanking the buttons open. He lifted me like I weighed nothing and carried me to the bedroom. “Wait,” I whispered. “What’s your name?” He smirked. “You don’t need it.” The next hour was a blur of moans, sweat, nails digging into backs, and tangled sheets. He took control like a man who had nothing to lose. I was loud, shameless, clawing at him like a woman possessed. Every kiss, every thrust, every groan felt like it stripped me bare. He was rough. Unapologetic. Dominant. And I loved every second of it. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t sweet. It was chaos. And I gave him everything. I felt all of him filling me up completely. His huge c**k is buried deep inside me. I dripped effortlessly, my whole body in surrender to him. Somehow, I wished that this would not end. That he would remain buried deep in me the way he was. I could feel his d**k digging deep into me at a very fast, merciless, and rough pace. My hole dripped liquid freely, wetting the sheets. "Ahhh!" I moaned out helplessly, my claws digging into his back. The sensation was driving me crazy. He was rough. Very rough. He kissed me like he was going to swallow my lips, and I enjoyed every bit of it. By the time we collapsed, breathless, the sun had started peeking through the curtains. I rolled over to the edge of the bed, panting. My body was sore in the best and worst ways possible. “I can’t believe I just...” I whispered. "Shush," he replied, pulling me into a hug. *** Boom! I woke up the next morning and found myself naked. Stack naked in a hotel room! Beside a man who was also naked! My heart sank deep into my stomach, and for a second, I thought ht I'd die from a heart attack. My eyes shifted to the man lying beside me. And then—my heart stopped. No. No no no no no—