Dominant CEO Ruthless Demands

I stood outside the presidential suite on the 30th floor of the XX Hotel, my phone clutched in my sweating hand. The text from that unknown number burned in my mind: 22:00, XX Hotel, 3007. It was 22:02 now. My heart hammered against my ribs, each beat a reminder of why I was here, my father-in-law dying without that last dose of the experimental drug from MC Pharma. I begged, called, emailed everyone. Nothing until this.

I raised my fist to knock, but the door was unlocked. It creaked open into pitch blackness. No lights, no sound except the distant hum of the city below. Tension coiled in my gut like a fist. I stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind me.

“22:03.”

A soft laugh sliced the darkness, slow and deliberate, sending ice down my spine.

“You still like being late.”

My throat tightened. I knew that voice. Magnus. He stepped forward from the shadows, his bathrobe hanging loose, the hem swaying against his thick thighs. A crooked bite mark scarred his collarbone—my mark from that wild night months ago when I'd laughed and sunk my teeth in, claiming him in the heat of it all. 'I'm branding you. You'll never escape me,' I'd growled then. Now, here he was, the CEO of MC Pharma, the man holding my family's life in his hands.

“You’re... the CEO?” My voice came out hoarse, barely mine.

Three days of hell. Forty-seven calls. Twenty-three emails. Nine middlemen shut me down. Until this summons.

“Your secretary called. Said you’d pay any price to save your father-in-law.”

He stopped inches from me, his thumb digging into my chin, forcing my head up. His eyes gleamed, cold and hungry. He pulled a drug insert from his bathrobe pocket, that thin paper promising the only cure and tapped it against my chest. It slipped inside my shirt collar, the cold edge scraping down my skin to my waist.

“Option one.”

His finger pressed it hard against my bare stomach where my shirt had ridden up, pinning it there. The chill bit into me, making my abs clench.

“Strip, go inside, and get clean.”

He withdrew his hand slow, deliberate.

“Option two. Get out. I’ll make sure there isn’t a second dose of this drug in the entire country.”

My breath hitched. Desperation clawed at me, my father-in-law's labored breaths echoing in my head, his wife's tears. I couldn't fail them. My eyes dropped to that bite mark, a twisted reminder of when I'd had power over him. Now? I was the one breaking.

I didn't move at first, hands shaking at my sides. Magnus just watched, bathrobe parting slightly to show the dark trail of hair leading down his ripped abs to the thick bulge straining the fabric.

“Magnus,” I started, voice cracking.

His mouth crashed onto mine before I could finish. His tongue forced its way past my lips, scorching hot and demanding, choking off my words. I tasted whiskey and him , musky, dominant. Strong hands shoved me back against the floor-to-ceiling window, the glass icy against my spine. His body pinned me there, chest heaving against mine, his hard cock grinding into my thigh through the thin robe.

I gasped into the kiss, my own dick twitching traitorously in my pants despite the fear. His teeth nipped my lower lip hard enough to draw blood, copper flooding my mouth as he sucked it deeper. Pain mixed with the heat pooling in my groin, my gaunt frame trembling under his bulk.

He broke the kiss with a wet pop, saliva stringing between us. His hand yanked my shirt open, buttons scattering across the carpet. Cold air hit my exposed chest, thinner now, ribs showing from stress and skipped meals.

“Look at you,” he growled, thumb tracing the hollow of my collarbone. “Gaunt. Desperate. Perfect for breaking.”

His fingers pinched my nipple, twisting until I whimpered, arching into it. The drug paper fluttered to the floor, forgotten. He grabbed my wrist, forcing my hand down to his robe. I felt the heat of his thick cock through the silk, veins pulsing under my palm.

“Feel that? That's what you get for marking me.” His free hand clamped my jaw again, tilting my head to expose my throat. Teeth sank in, not breaking skin, but bruising deep. I moaned, legs buckling as fire shot straight to my balls.

“Strip,” he commanded, breath hot against the fresh mark. “Or watch your world end.”

My hands fumbled with my belt, zipper rasping loud in the dark room. Pants pooled at my ankles, my hard cock springing free, leaking pre-cum onto the carpet. Exposed, vulnerable,thinner hips, pale skin stretched tight over bones. He stepped back, robe falling open fully. His cock stood rigid, fat head glistening, balls heavy below.

“On your knees.”

I dropped, knees hitting carpet, heart pounding. His hand tangled in my hair, yanking my head back. The bite on his collarbone stared down at me, mocking. He rubbed his cockhead over my lips, smearing salt pre-cum.

“Open.”

I did, tongue out, desperate for that drug, for mercy. He thrust in, stretching my jaw, hitting the back of my throat. Gags choked out as he fucked my mouth slow, deliberate, saliva dripping down my chin, mixing with tears of strain. His groans filled the room, hips snapping harder.

“Good boy,” he rasped, fingers tightening. “Suck harder. Earn it.”

Emotional weight crashed over me, guilt for submitting, relief at his control, the twisted thrill of his dominance. My own cock throbbed untouched, aching. He pulled out sudden strings of spit connecting us, and hauled me up by the hair.

“Bedroom. Now.”

He shoved me toward the open door, darkness swallowing us further. His hand cracked against my ass, stinging sharp. I stumbled forward, pulse racing, what came next?