The Whole Package (Hearts to Buy #1)

Diana

“ E staremos ahí a las cuatro, mamá. Sí, sí, te lo prometo," I assure her, my voice soft but firm. The familiar words of her blessing linger in the air as I end the call.

"Sorry about that, baby," I apologize, returning to David with a practiced ease. "I hate to take personal calls during our time, but it was important." The phone goes silent on the bedside table, a temporary barrier between me in this space and the person I become once I step out of this room. "Where were we?" I tell him with a sly smirk. He reclines on the bed, his arousal unmistakable, a blatant invitation that I'm all too familiar with.

"Oh, have you been misbehaving while I was gone?" My voice drips with feigned surprise, laced with a sultriness I've perfected over time. He chuckles, a sound filled with anticipation, as his hand moves along his length in a deliberate stroke. "Naughty boys do get punished, you know," I tease, closing the distance between us. My words excite him; I can practically see it in his eyes. He loves this, the dance of power and pleasure, and I'm more than willing to lead.

"What's my punishment, doll?" He asks, and I waste no time to replace his hands with my own as I move up and down his length.

"I don't know if you can handle it," I whisper as I take him in my mouth, the tip of his cock already dripping and ready as I run my tongue along it. He especially loves when I suck him off and my tits are pressed against him; with time, we learn what each client loves, and knowing their preferences is what keeps them coming back.

"Mmm, , fuck ," he moans, the words muffled as his hand runs through my hair, pulling me deeper. "You're always so fucking good at this." I smile at his praise, his cock pulsing in my mouth with the compliment, and I know I'll be able to make him come quickly if I keep going like this. His punishment is that he won't be fucking me today, but I don't dare tell him that. Instead, I move my head up and down, the rhythm consistent, as my tongue circles his cock, teasing him.

"Fuck, fuck, I'm so close, doll," he groans. "You're so fucking good. So fucking good." I moan in response to his compliments, the sound reverberating around his length, and his breath quickens, the telltale signs of his impending climax. And as I feel his body tense, his grip on my hair tightens, and his seed spills into my mouth, hot and sticky. I swallow every drop, relishing the taste and satisfaction that I could give him what he desired. I lift my head and sit up, looking at him, his eyes closed, his breathing still ragged from his orgasm.

"How was that?" I ask, knowing the answer.

"Fuck, that was amazing," he breathes. "You're always amazing. You make me feel so fucking good." I smile, a hint of pride and satisfaction on my face.

"That's what I like to hear, baby. I'm glad I could make you feel good." I don't add that it's exactly what he pays me for; we already know that.

"Thank you," he whispers, his voice soft and genuine. "I needed that." I nod, not wanting him to share details, which I often ask my clients not to do. Although I know others enjoy hearing about their clients' lives, some even offer advice; it's not like that for me. I prefer to keep my professional and personal lives very separate. I stand up, walk toward the bathroom, and turn on the faucet, filling the sink. I take a washcloth, run it under the water, and clean myself up. After a moment, he joins me, standing behind me, and wraps his arms around my waist.

"You're the best, you know that, right?" He says, kissing my neck softly.

"Mmm, thank you," I say, leaning into his touch.

"Seriously, , you're incredible. I don't know what I'd do without you." I go still, unsure how to answer that without hurting his feelings.

"Well, I should let you get back to work, Mr. CEO," I tease. "Wouldn't want you to be late for your meeting." He laughs and shakes his head, his gaze lingering on me.

"You're right. Thank you again. You're the best." I smile and watch him gather his things and leave the hotel room. The moment the door closes, I let out a sigh and shake my head reminding myself to make his next appointment as far away as possible. It seems David is starting to need a little distance from me — and as much as I need the cash, I don't need anyone trying to cross the line.

***

"Sorry, sorry, I know I'm late!" My voice echoes through the apartment as I toss my keys on the kitchen counter, hastily going to the bedroom. The heels I clutch don't allow me to forget where I've come home from – not that I'd be able to, regardless. Showering in the hotel room seemed like a time-saving strategy, but as always, it made me late.

"No surprise there," Robert's voice carries from the shower, laced with a familiar, teasing tone that instantly coaxes a smile onto my lips. "Come join me," he calls out, and the invitation sends a twinge of longing through me, tightening my chest with desire and regret.

"No, you'll just make us both later, and I promised my mom we'd be there at four," I call back, even as part of me yearns to give in. My fingers work quickly, unbuttoning my shirt as I strip down to my undergarments. I stand before my closet, sifting through the options, wondering which me I will be today.

"I'll behave," he calls out, but I can hear the mischief in his voice, a playful undertone that I know all too well. His assurance does little to convince me, but still, I step into the bathroom, my bare skin tingling in anticipation.

"When have you ever behaved?" I retort, my words laced with skepticism. Pushing the glass shower doors open, I'm greeted by the sight of his sculpted form, enveloped in the lather of my favorite soap. Water cascades over his muscular body, each droplet accentuating the contours and planes I've come to know and love.

"I'll be on my best behavior, love," he promises again, his English accent curling around the words, sending a familiar thrill through me. That accent has been my undoing for the past five years, a sweetly spoken vulnerability that never fails to weaken my knees.

"I don't believe you for a second," I murmur, my voice a whisper lost in the shower's steam. He closes in, a predator in his own right, and I find myself retreating until my back meets the cool wall. His body presses against mine, a perfect fit, and my heart races – a wild, frantic rhythm that he alone has the power to incite.

I breathe him in deeply, desperately, filling my senses with his scent. It's a fragrance I want to cling to for eternity, the only one that feels like home, like forever. He is my everything, the love of my life, and yet, with each passing day, the weight of my secret life, the double existence I lead, grows heavier. The life that allows me these moments of bliss with Robert is the same one that threatens to shatter everything we have. It's a precarious balance, a tightrope walk over an abyss of potential ruin. The thought of him discovering the truth, of watching our perfect world implode, is a constant shadow that looms over me.

It terrifies me—the fragility of this happiness, the transient nature of our blissful ignorance. As his hands explore, as our bodies meld in the heat and water, I'm painfully aware of how much I stand to lose. I find a bittersweet sanctuary in his arms, a temporary haven from the inevitable storm ahead.

The gnawing certainty that he'll run and turn his back on me and never return once he knows the truth is the silent specter in every moment we share. It's why the words have died on my lips so many times, why I've shied away from crossing that insurmountable bridge. The fear isn't just of losing him; it's the terror that he'll never be able to look at me the same way again. That he'll see me and feel nothing but disappointment and shame. I've faced many fears and weathered countless storms, but the thought of disgust in Robert's eyes, the man I love more than life itself, is the one thing I can't bear. Each time I've neared that precipice of confession, I've recoiled, not out of cowardice, but out of an acute fear of irrevocably shattering the fragile, beautiful world we've built together.

I know the truth deep down, buried beneath layers of denial and hope. When he learns who I really am and what I do, the love we've nurtured will likely crumble under the weight of reality. And that's the hardest pill to swallow – the knowledge that the day I tell him the truth is the day I might lose him forever.

"You said you'd behave," I whisper, my words a delicate breath against his lips. But then his mouth crashes down on mine, claiming it in a way that's all-consuming, all him. It's a kiss that speaks of hunger and possession, a language he's fluent in.

"I lied," he murmurs against my lips, a hint of mischief in his voice. His teeth gently tug at my bottom lip, sending a thrill of anticipation coursing through me. His hands roam my now bare skin, leaving trails of searing heat in their wake. Every touch is fire, and I'm more than just a willing participant—I'm eager for the blaze.

"Robert," I breathe his name, a quiet, pleading cry. His hands grip my hips, pressing my back harder against the cold tiles. A moan escapes my lips, the sensation of the icy wall at my back contrasting with the heat of his body and the scalding water. I welcome the sharp bite of the chill, allowing it to anchor me. His lips travel down the curve of my neck, tracing the outline of my shoulder. My body trembles under his touch, the anticipation almost unbearable.

"What is it, love?" He pauses, his breath ghosting against my skin, and I bite my lip, holding back the plea on my tongue. He knows what I want and what I need, but he also loves to tease me, take me to the brink of desperation, and keep me there.

"Robert, please." His name is a whispered prayer on my lips, a supplication for mercy. He smiles against my shoulder, a smug, arrogant smirk I would hate if it belonged to anyone else.

"As you wish," he murmurs, and his lips travel down the planes of my stomach, his body sinking to the floor. With a gentle nudge, he parts my thighs, positioning them to his liking, and I can't help but shiver in anticipation.

"Yes, right there," I groan, my back arching in a sinuous curve. His lips trail the inside of my thigh, drawing a desperate whimper from my lips.

"Here?" His warm breath tickles my sensitive skin, and I shudder, barely able to form the word.

"Robert," I whimper his name, another helpless plea. I am nothing under his touch, entirely at his mercy.

"Is this what you want?" He asks, and then his lips are on me, and his tongue is teasing me, tasting me, and all coherent thoughts are driven from my mind. All I can think of all I can feel, is the exquisite pleasure of his touch.

"Please," I beg, my voice a ragged whisper.

"Your wish is my command," he replies, his voice a low growl. He delves deeper, and I let out a gasp, my eyes fluttering shut as I give in to the blissful oblivion of his touch. He teases and tortures me with expert precision, knowing exactly how to drive me mad with desire. His hands roam over my body, touching and teasing every sensitive spot, and I feel as though I'm about to burst with pleasure.

My nails rake over the smooth tiles as his mouth brings me closer to the edge. The pressure builds, a delicious, agonizing ache, and I'm lost when his lips find that one spot. The tension in my body snaps, and a wave of pleasure crashes over me, drowning me in its ecstasy.

"I love you," he whispers, and the words are like a salve on my battered soul. For a moment, I allow myself to believe that everything will be okay, that this love is strong enough to withstand the storm that's brewing.