The Whole Package (Hearts to Buy #1)

Elena

A ccepting clients late on weekdays always feels like a juggling act, but turning them down is something other than a luxury I can afford. Unfortunately, my financial situation leaves little room for choice. Bills pile up relentlessly, and my emergency fund hasn't recovered since my car's breakdown last month. The most significant expense, though, is Alex's school tuition. It's a hefty portion of my earnings, but I never question its worth. She's getting an education from the best, and her private school's secure environment gives me priceless peace of mind.

Despite the distance we've put between ourselves and her father, the fear of him reappearing lingers like a shadow. Every time we step outside, I instinctively scan our surroundings, ensuring we're not being followed. Everyone says I'm overly cautious, paranoid even. But they didn't see the lengths he went to before, the extremes he's capable of. My father's words echo: "It's better to be safe than sorry." I live by that adage, especially regarding Alex's safety. Taking these late appointments means sacrificing rest, personal time, and, sometimes, a bit of my sanity, but refusing isn't an option I can afford.

I hear the telltale sound of the door unlocking, the knob turning slowly, and despite years of this routine, my stomach still drops. It's an involuntary reaction, a reminder that you never truly get used to some things. For me, sex has become a hollow act, stripped of meaning and connection. It's a memory tainted by countless nights spent enduring, rather than enjoying, the touch of a man who claimed to be my husband.

Lying there while he took what he wanted, those nights were a grim alternative to his wrath. I convinced myself it was better than facing his fists, but it was a cold comfort. Sex, in those days, was a duty, an obligation – not an act of love or passion. "Your duty as a wife," he would remind me, his words a cruel echo in the darkness. But the truth was, I never chose to be his wife. I was a transaction, a means to settle a debt my mother couldn't pay. I remember her words before the wedding, painting a picture of a life where I would be cared for and protected. How bitterly ironic those promises seem now. She handed me over to a monster, to a man who made my life a living nightmare, and then dared to make me feel guilty for resenting it.

In any case, I don't harbor hatred for this job. In a twisted way, it's been a saving grace — the unexpected means through which my daughter and I found a chance to flourish. Relying on government assistance was a temporary fix, a band-aid on a gaping wound. We shuffled through shelters, but the conditions were dismal, and maintaining a steady job seemed like an impossible feat while juggling the responsibilities of motherhood. So, when this opportunity presented itself, it felt like the best way out. It could have been better, but it was a means to an end. Lying down, faking pleasure as another man sought his own from my body, became a transaction — a necessary act for survival and stability. It was a small price to pay for the safety and security it brought us.

I'd take this over the sound of his screams, the feeling of his hands around my throat, the terror in my daughter's eyes as she witnessed the monster he became. These memories are my driving force, never allowing me to forget what I've escaped and what I'm determined to protect her from.

"Hello," the voice startles me from my reverie as the door shuts. My gaze lifts, settling on the blonde woman who stands before me. She's undeniably gorgeous, probably in her late forties, exuding an air of sophistication accentuated by the expensive-looking pearl necklace and matching earrings she wears. Her style is impeccable, evident in the tailored pantsuit and elegant black heels that complete her ensemble.

"Hi," I respond, my voice steady despite the surprise that must be evident on my face. Her eyebrow arches slightly, a silent acknowledgment of the confusion that I'm hastily trying to mask.

"Not what you were expecting?" she inquires, her tone a perfect blend of softness and strength. It's an almost ethereal voice, effortlessly captivating and undeniably sexy. I find myself momentarily lost for words. Her presence is commanding, yet a warmth in her eyes belies the initial intimidation her appearance might have caused.

"Uh, honestly, no," I admit, feeling a twinge of embarrassment color my cheeks. Her presence, so different from my usual clientele, has thrown me off balance.

"Expecting someone younger?" She inquires a hint of amusement in her voice.

"Oh, no... that's not what I meant, not at all," I quickly clarify, stumbling over my words. The last thing I want is to offend her, especially not over something as trivial as age.

"Ah, I see. Expecting a man?" Her observation is astute, and I notice how she shifts her stance, casually placing her hands in her pockets. It prompts me to rise from the bed, suddenly conscious that I hadn't offered a proper greeting.

"I'm ," I say, extending my hand towards her. "And yes, I was expecting a man," I confess with a nervous chuckle, trying to lighten the mood. As I attempt to retract my hand, I realize she hasn't released it.

"Victoria," she introduces herself with ease. Her other hand comes up, fingers gently caressing mine before she gives a gentle tug, drawing me closer. The proximity is unexpected and intimate, sending a jolt of surprise through me.

"Have you ever been with a woman, ?" Victoria's question is direct, her voice smooth and laced with curiosity. It catches me off guard, the bluntness of her inquiry sending a rush of heat to my cheeks.

"N-No," I stammer, my voice barely more than a whisper. One of her hands now rests comfortably on my waist, anchoring me in the moment as the room seems to tilt slightly on its axis. This is different from how things usually go. I'm the one who leads, who seduces, who controls the narrative. But here, with Victoria, the roles are reversed, and I find myself in unfamiliar territory.

I can feel her breath against my skin, her presence enveloping me in a disarming and exhilarating way. Isn't this the effect I'm supposed to have on her? The irony isn't lost on me – the seducer becoming the seduced, the professional losing her composed detachment.

Victoria's movements are deliberate, pulling me closer until our chests are pressed together in a dance of proximity. Her hands explore with a confidence that resonates through my body, sparking a trail of goosebumps across my skin. Her lips hover near my ear, her breath a whisper against my neck, sending shivers down my spine. "Don't worry, I'll make sure you enjoy yourself," she murmurs, her voice a velvet promise.

"I-I think that's my job," I manage to whisper back, a mixture of surprise and anticipation lacing my words.

"I enjoy making my women feel good," Victoria responds, her tone laced with a thrilling and disarming authority. She gently pushes me back, guiding me towards the bed with a firm but gentle insistence. "Lie down," she commands, and I find myself responding without hesitation, my body attuned to her direction.

As my knees hit the edge of the bed, I let myself fall back, my gaze fixed on her. She removes her blazer with a fluid grace, tossing it aside carelessly. Beneath, her blouse clings to her curves, accentuating her figure elegantly and provocatively. My eyes are drawn to the outline of her breasts, and I catch myself licking my lips involuntarily.

"What are you doing?" I ask, but her movements are already answering the question for me. Her fingers are unbuttoning her shirt, revealing her lacy bra and toned abs. Her hair falls against her shoulders as she pulls her blouse off, letting it drop to the floor.

"Undressing," she states the obvious as she climbs over me, her knee placed between my legs. She moves her leg, and I whimper, feeling her against my sensitive area. "That's a good girl," she says, her hands moving up my body and neck. She kisses the nape of my neck, and I gasp, my head tilting back to allow her better access.

"I should be doing that to you," I whisper, and she moans into my ear, her hand tugging at the collar of my dress, revealing my shoulder. Her tongue glides across my skin, and my nipples harden at the contact.

"We can do it together," she says, straddling me. I stare up at her, and her eyes seem to glow like an animal looking down at her prey. Her hand moves up, brushing against my chest and towards my shoulder, where she pulls the strap of my dress off. "You're going to need to lose this unless you want it ripped off," she says, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"But...I don't have a change of clothes," I say, but she silences me with a kiss.

"I'll get you a new dress, a better one," she says against my lips, her hips grinding into me. I can't believe I'm getting this wet. "Now take it off." She demands, and my hands move towards the zipper on the side, slowly pulling it down.

She stares down at me, her gaze intense and focused on every inch of skin I reveal. Once I reach the end, I move my hand down, trying to tug the dress past my thighs. But Victoria stops me, her fingers wrapping around my wrist.

"Let me," she whispers, her other hand reaching down and pushing the rest of the dress past my hips and down my thighs, revealing my plain black underwear. Her eyes move to the scars that litter my stomach and thighs. Her expression remains unchanged, but I can tell she's noticed by how her jaw tenses.

"They don't hurt anymore," I say, trying to reassure her, but her lips only curl into a small smile.

"I wasn't going to ask," she says, her lips grazing my jaw. Her hand moves down my stomach, her fingers dancing across the scars before cupping my center, and I moan, the feeling foreign and yet so pleasurable. Her finger moves under the waistband of my panties, and my hands instinctively move to her thighs.

"I'm not sure what to do," I tell her, my fingers digging into her flesh.

"Then be a good girl and do as I say," she breathes against the hollow of my throat, her fingers moving over my clit and I let out a yelp. Her lips move down my chest, her free hand moving behind my back to unclasp my bra. She removes it and throws it aside, her lips trailing down my stomach, and I squirm.

"Oh God," I cry out as her fingers slip inside me, my head thrown back, and I can't help but squeeze my eyes shut; the feeling is too much. My back arches, and I grind against her hand. She moves up, her other hand wrapping around my throat as she presses her lips against mine, muffling the sounds escaping me.

"Fuck," I cry out, my head falling back against the mattress.

"Say my name, ," she growls, and I whimper as her hand tightens around my throat.

"V-Victoria," I cry out, her fingers moving faster and harder. My nails dig into her back, and I bite down on my lip to keep myself from screaming.

"Look at me," she says, and I can feel her staring down at me. I open my eyes and look up, meeting her gaze, and she stares back at me intensely. Her hand moves from my throat and pushes my hair back. "I want to see your face when you cum." She growls.

My vision begins to blur, and I can feel the pressure building in my core. I can't stop the screams that escape me as I fall over the edge, my back arching, and I let out a string of curse words. She pulls her fingers out and kisses me again, her lips moving to the base of my throat and sucking hard. I know she's left a mark, and the thought should scare me, but for some reason, it doesn't. This a mark that I will gladly welcome, one I might even wear with pride — holy shit, how can this feeling ever be surpassed?

I stare up at her, panting and breathless, and her expression is unreadable. Her lips are swollen and red, and her hair is sticking to her face.

"I'm not done yet," she announces, her hand guiding me back down until I'm under her again, her lips moving toward my chest. "I want to taste you." My hands move to her head, gripping her hair as she kisses her way down, her lips wrapping around my nipple.

"Fuck," I cry out as her tongue flicks across my nipple. "Yes!" I shout, my hands tugging at her hair, and she bites down hard. "God, yes, more," I plead, and she bites down again, her fingers pinching my other nipple, and I scream, my eyes rolling to the back of my head.

Her mouth moves down my stomach, leaving a trail of kisses and bites along the way until she reaches my center. Her hands push my thighs apart, and she wastes no time diving right in, her tongue moving against me, and I can't help the sounds that escape me.

"Please, don't stop," I beg, my fingers gripping the sheets as she continues to lick and suck. "Please, I need you," I cry, my head falling back. She moves faster, her tongue moving up and down before her lips wrap around my clit, sucking hard. "God, yes, right there," I scream, my hips bucking.

"Fuck, you taste so good," she says, and I no longer feel like I am in this bed, in this hotel room. I have never felt anything this good in my entire life. Her tongue continues to work me over, her lips wrapping around me and sucking harder.

"Fuck, fuck, yes," I cry out, and she groans, her tongue moving faster and harder against me. I'm getting close; the pressure is building, and I'm starting to see stars. "Victoria, please," I plead, and she groans, her tongue working harder against me, and I can't hold in my moans.

My eyes roll to the back of my head, my body jerking violently as I reach my peak, and I let out a series of screams.