Stolen by the CEO, Mistaken for My Sister

[Rose's POV]

It was hot.

 My throat burned.

 I was so thirsty.

And empty.

This kind of emptiness clawed at me from the inside, like I was desperate to feel anything.

Where am I?

Why am I here?

The last image I remember was that I was sitting in a booth at a bar.

My friends were celebrating for me.

I had just graduated from Stanford University with a degree in accounting.

I had secured an offer from PwC.

PwC is one of the Big Four accounting firms.

It's the dream place for anyone majoring in accounting.

I also had passed the AICPA.

At twenty-two, I had achieved what others only dreamed of.

It should've been one of the best nights of my life.

Then Jessica handed me a drink.

 And the next thing I knew—I was here.

 That drink. Something was wrong with it.

 Did Jessica do this to me?

 But why?

 "Click."

 The door opened.

 A tall figure stepped in. He walked slowly, deliberately.

 The room felt smaller with every step he took.

 I couldn't see his face clearly.

 I could only feel a strong sense of oppression squeezing the air in the room inch by inch as he approached.

 He sat on the edge of the bed. The mattress sank down sharply because of his weight.

He leaned down, a man's face slowly clear in the dimness.

 His eyebrow bones were high, his eye sockets were deep, and those eyes were rolling with undisguised desire.

 This face... I must have seen it.

 But I can't think of anything.

 He had a strong smell of cedar, mixed with a hint of alcohol, and it got into my nostrils.

 The smell made the fire in my body burn even more.

 I tugged at my sundress impatiently, the fabric rubbing against my hot skin, causing a small shiver.

 His breath sprayed on my cheek.

 The hot breath of a strange man made my body soften completely.

 "Is that you?" His voice was low and rough.

 "Did you drug me?"

 He grabbed my chin, forcing my head up.

 His thumb brushed across my lips—rough, almost aggressive.

 I couldn't think.

 My body wasn't listening to me.

 Everything felt wrong—and frighteningly familiar.

 "It wasn't me..." I whispered.

I met his eyes.

 There was confusion in them.

 Then something darker.

 He kissed me.

 Hard. Like he was angry.

 I froze. My hand moved on their own—clutching at him.

 He pulled back for a second, breath ragged.

I heard the rip of fabric.

My dress and underthings were torn away, tossed to the side.

His hands found my chest. His mouth followed.

Hot lips wrapped around sensitive skin.

He sucked hard, his tongue grazing over the tips with feverish need.

A strange numbness spread through me—painful, electric, addictive.

I trembled beneath him.

My hands pressed weakly against his shoulders. "No… don't…"

But he didn't stop. He moved lower.

Then he sat up and quickly undressed. I squirmed, aching for more without understanding why.

He took my hand and brought it to his arousal.

"Here. Touch me."

What I felt was hot, firm, and intimidating. It pulsed under my fingers.

Drawn in, I leaned down and took him into my mouth.

My movements were clumsy and unsure.

But his groan told me I was doing something right.

He pulled me up and laid me flat.

My body arched, waiting. He tore off the last barrier between us.

His body pressed down on mine. I felt him glide along my entrance, teasing.

Then the pressure increased.

He tried to ease in—only partway—and stopped, surprised.

"You're…?"

Before I could answer, he pushed in harder.

Pain shot through me. I cried out.

The sharp sting jolted me back to awareness—just for a moment.

Then the drug's haze returned. The discomfort faded.

All that remained was heat, a slow ache, and the strange, shameful pleasure that followed.

His movements grew faster. Deeper.

Each time he hit a certain spot, a wave of sensation rolled through me.

He gripped my waist and kept going, relentless.

I felt his lips press against the birthmark behind my ear. His whisper brushed against my skin.

"This little rose suits you… You're sensitive here."

"It's… not a tattoo…" I gasped. "It's a birthmark."

He kissed my neck again and again.

His heavy breathing filled the room, sending chills through me.

Every thrust, every movement, made me cry out.

I couldn't take it—and yet I wanted more.

When we finally reached the end, his body tensed above mine.

I felt the release—hot, deep, consuming.

He bit my neck gently, like he was claiming me.

My body arched, overwhelmed.

I shook and spasmed as the final waves rolled through me.

I collapsed beneath him, barely breathing.

But then—I felt him harden again.

My eyes widened. I tried to push him away.

He chuckled. Held me down.

"Lilith… Did you think that was all?"

Lilith?

My blood froze.

I'm not Lilith. I'm Rose.

Panic filled me.

"No, I'm not—"

He flipped me over. And I gasped.

"Ah—"

He laced his fingers through mine.

And kissed me again.

Deep. Possessive.

His tongue tangled with mine, stealing my breath, stealing my thoughts.

I lost myself again.

The sound of skin against skin echoed through the room.

He took me again. And again.

Until I could no longer think. Until I fell into unconsciousness.