Chapter 5: The Masked Stranger

~Clarissa’s POV~

I didn’t speak. I couldn’t.

My throat was too dry, my heart too loud. He stepped forward, one slow step at a time, until the scent of him, warm leather, spice, and something darker.......commanding, wrapped around me like a hallucinative drug.

I should have run.

But I didn’t.

He stopped just inches from me. Close enough that I could feel the heat and dominance.....radiating off him. His voice dipped, velvet and dangerous.

“What’s your safe word?”

I blinked, startled by the bluntness, but oddly comforted. “I… I don’t have one,” I admitted, suddenly aware of how unprepared I was.

He reached out, brushed a strand of hair from my cheek, and gently cupped my jaw. The leather of his glove was cool against my flushed skin.

“Then tonight, it's ‘Scarlet.’ If you say that word, everything stops. Understand?”

I nodded.

He tilted my chin up. “Use it if you need to. I’m not here to hurt you. Only to give you exactly what you came for.”

His thumb brushed across my lower lip, and my breath hitched. My knees threatened to give out, and he noticed, because the next thing I felt were his strong hands at my waist, steadying me......claiming me.

“Nervous?” he asked.

“Yes.” I exhaled. “But I don’t want to stop.” The boldness of my own voice shocked me.

He gave a low hum, thoughtful. Then something flickered in his eyes.....curiosity, or maybe something deeper.

“Tell me something…” he murmured, his hands now resting at the small of my back. “How many men have touched you before me?”

My chest tightened. I looked away, cheeks burning. “None!” I whispered. “I’ve never…”

His grip on me tightened.....not rough, but with a sudden intensity that made my stomach flip.

“You’re still a virgin?” he asked, his voice dropped to a raw, dangerous whisper, as if he could barely believe it. Disbelief, yes....but also something feral.

I nodded slowly.

He didn’t back away. He didn’t laugh. He didn’t scold me for being in a place like this.

Instead, his leather gloved thumb returned to my lip, tracing it gently. “Well, fuck.” he whispered the words like a confession. “That makes this even more special.”

“You’re not mad?” I whispered.

His smile was a dark promise. “Mad? No, sweetheart. Rather, I’m honored. I get to be your first... and show you how good it can be when you give up control.”

My breath caught.

Then he kissed me.

Slowly. Deeply. As if he had all the time in the world to learn every contour of my mouth. His lips were warm, commanding yet gentle, coaxing the shyness from me one soft bite at a time. My body melted into his, and I gasped as his hands explored.....not rushed, not greedy, but like he was memorizing every inch of me.

I had heard that most men didn't like virgins, to them being with one felt like embarking on a journey to a forbidden forest or caught in a war zone, just because they thought we were either too naive, too inexperienced, too fussy.

But definitely not this man. He was different.

He pulled away just enough to speak against my lips.

“Tonight, you’re mine. Do you understand?”

I nodded, dazed.

“Say it.”

“I’m yours,” I whispered, breathless.

“Good girl.”

He led me slowly across the room, guiding me with a hand to the base of my spine. The plush rug beneath my heels softened each step as we approached a velvet chaise, dark red and sinful.

He stood behind me, lips grazing my neck. “Take off your dress. Slowly. Eyes on me.” he ordered.

My fingers trembled, but I obeyed. The satin slid off my body like a sigh, pooling at my feet. I stood in nothing but the lacy black lingerie I was saving for a man who didn’t deserve it. But tonight, it wasn’t about him.

It was about this man.

This stranger.

This moment.

He took his time scanning me from head to toe, his gaze an invisible caress, and when it returned to my face, there was a flicker of something I couldn’t quite place.

Respect? Admiration? Hunger?

Then he groaned. “You’re fucking exquisite,” he murmured. “I’m going to ruin you in the best way.”

Then his hands were on me.

Exploring. Learning. Owning.

My bra slid away, his lips trailing fire down my collarbone, over the curve of my breast. He knelt before me, his breath hot on my skin. He looked up, masked eyes burning.

“May I taste what’s mine?”.

I nodded, speechless.

He peeled away the rest of my lingerie, fingers lingering just a little longer on my hips, my thighs. Then he rose again, undressing slowly teasing me with each button undone, each new inch of skin revealed.

His chest, chiseled....like it was sculpted by Zeus himself, with every line defined. His abs, tight. That tattoo sleeve wrapped around his arm and disappeared beneath his waistband. When his pants dropped, I gasped. He was... massive, thick and long, already hard, veins pulsing with promise.

I swallowed hard.

He noticed me staring. A devilish smirk curled his lips.

“Lie back,” he commanded

I did, letting the chaise cradle me.

He knelt again, but this time brought out something a silk tie. Deep red. Scarlet.

He bound my wrists above my head, firm but gentle, the knot resting against the soft cushion. I gasped. Something about the restraint made everything sharper. Hotter.

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

“Then don’t hide those pretty little sounds from me.” He trailed kisses from my ankle up my calf, the inside of my thigh.

Then... his mouth.

Hot. Wet. Worshiping.

I cried out....loud, raw, unfiltered. He groaned into me, tongue working with devastating precision. My thighs shook, but the silk kept my hands in place.

When I was trembling, begging, he climbed over me, lips brushing my temple.

“This might hurt. But I promise…” He kissed the corner of my mouth. “I’ll make it so fucking worth it.”

He lined himself at my entrance, then with one slow, deliberate push, entered me.

It was a stretch. A burn. A gasp. And then... a moan.

He paused, watching my face. Checking.

“You okay?”

“Yes... don’t stop,” I panted.

He moved, slow and controlled. His hips rolling, giving me time to adjust.

He held my bound wrists with one hand, his other fisting my hair, tilting my face to his. His thrusts deepened. Purposeful. Rhythmic.

“You’re taking me so well, baby,” he whispered. “So fucking tight. So pure.”

The pain melted into a kind of pleasure I didn’t know existed.

“Use your words. Tell me how it feels.”

“It… it feels good,” I whimpered.

“No. Say it right.”

“You feel good. So good, Sir.”

He stilled. A dark chuckle in my ear. “That’s my good girl.”

He pounded into me harder now, lips bruising my neck, his fingers clenching around mine as he whispered filth in the sexiest, dirtiest way. “You were made for this. For me. You belong on my cock.”

I shattered.

My orgasm ripped through me like a tidal wave. My scream echoed through the room. He growled in response, hips jerking, rhythm faltering as he spilled into me, claiming every part of my innocence.

The tie loosened. My hands free again, I wrapped my arms around him.

He held me after, kissing my shoulder, stroking my hair, murmuring things like “Perfect. Mine. Beautiful.”

And for the first time in weeks… I didn’t feel broken.

I felt claimed.

Empowered.

Reborn.

It wasn't long before I drifted off, exhausted, his heartbeat thudding against my cheek like a lullaby.

*******************************

Hours later, I stirred in the bed, the red silk sheets tangled around my waist. The space beside me was cold. Empty.

As my eyes peeled open, he was gone.

No note. No name. Just the echo of everything he made me feel.

Panic flared in my chest.

I sat up, the mask now resting on the nightstand, my head still foggy from what we’d done. My body sore in all the right places. I reached for my clothes and that's when I saw it.

A black leather wallet on the floor. Partially hidden beneath the edge of the bed.

It must’ve fallen from his pocket.

I picked it up, then opened it. My curiosity battling guilt.

Inside: cash, a black AmEx... and an ID.

And then I froze, blood turned to ice, seeing the name printed on it.

“Victor Gonzales”.

The name rang like a gunshot in my ears. My vision blurred.

My heart stopped. My lips parted in disbelief.

No freaking way.

No… no, this couldn’t be real.

But then I looked at the face. Clean shaven. Corporate headshot. Older than the man I remembered, but it was him.

My ex-fiance’s father.

Eric’s father.

The man who just took my virginity.

My stomach dropped. My knees buckled.

I sank onto the edge of the bed, clutching the ID in my fist, shaking.

How the hell was this even possible?

And worse...

Why did the thought of him knowing....thrill me, just as much as it terrified me?