Chapter 1 The Life of a "Sex Worker"
The hot, humid breath on her neck felt weird. One hand squeezed her breast while the other slid down to her butt, caressing her smooth skin and moving closer to her genitals.
He kissed her neck, teasing her with his hands and mouth. She clung to his shoulders, letting out soft, weak moans. Her hips lifted slightly, encouraging him. He spread her legs and pressed his hard member against her opening. The warmth and wetness drew him in.
Her muffled groan made him pause, but her dry throat kept her from crying out. She could only claw at his back, which excited him more. The tightness spurred him on, and with each thrust, she groaned in pain, tears streaming down her face.
In the darkness, her weak protests mixed with shy moans, rising and falling with their breaths.
By morning, Layla Adkins felt sore all over. She struggled to open her heavy eyelids and weakly looked around. The unfamiliar hotel room was littered with clothes. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a glaring red stain on the sheets, mocking her. Her heart ached.
Memories of the previous night flooded back. She had broken up with her boyfriend and given her first time to a stranger, or rather to...
Her heart tightened. She rubbed her temples and took a deep breath. Regret wouldn't change anything now. She swallowed her tears.
The sound of water stopped, and a tall man emerged from the bathroom. He was around thirty, exuding the charm of a mature man. Over six feet two, with a well-toned body and eight-pack abs glistening with water, he was the epitome of sexiness. His chiseled face and deep, cold eyes made Layla shiver. She had never seen such icy eyes, reminding her of a beast.
Suppressing her panic, she met his gaze. Despite his strong presence, she was the client and deserved respect.
"Name your price," he said coldly.
Was he asking her to pay based on his service quality? Confused, she pulled out five hundred dollars from her wallet and handed it to him.
Samuel Holland furrowed his brow, staring at her face that looked only eighteen or nineteen, with a tender and immature look. Big eyes, like a doll's.
He had asked her to name a price, and she gave him money instead. Did she think he was a male prostitute? For someone so young, she had quite the imagination.
Seeing Samuel deep in thought and not taking the money, Layla assumed he found it insufficient.
She didn't know the rates for these kinds of services, but judging by his physique and looks, it wouldn't come cheap.
"I only have this much cash. Give me your account number later, and I'll transfer you seven hundred dollars."
Samuel raised an eyebrow, his already cold demeanor making the room feel even chillier.
'Was he worried I wouldn't pay up later?' Layla thought to herself. She mustered up the courage and said, "You weren't very good last night. It hurt a lot. I'm only giving you this because you tried hard."
Despite her words, Layla was nervous, fearing he might extort her. She bent to pick up her clothes, but in her anxiety, she tripped over a chair, pulling the sheet off and leaving herself completely exposed.
Samuel's eyes darkened. Her smooth, flawless skin glowed, and her delicate, slender neck led to soft, rounded shoulders...
Blushing furiously, Layla grabbed the sheet to cover herself. "Don't look."
"I've already seen everything."
"Jerk! Is this how you treat clients after getting paid? I'm definitely filing a complaint against you next time."
"Next time?" Samuel raised an eyebrow and asked.
"Don't get any ideas," Layla snapped, retreating to the bathroom to change. Her skirt was torn, and she was in a lot of pain.
In movies, sex workers were always gentle and polite. Why was this guy so rude and rough? Her first experience was so painful that Layla felt a lump in her throat.
The plot twists of a novel had actually happened to her: she caught her boyfriend of four years cheating with her best friend. She went to a bar to drink but ended up in a place like that, and then last night happened.
It was downright ridiculous, punishing herself for someone else's mistake.
Layla splashed her face with cold water, forced a smile at her reflection in the mirror, and then walked out of the bathroom.
Samuel was already dressed in a suit, smoking a cigarette, exuding mature charm. Layla's heart skipped a beat. No wonder she had been drawn to him last night. Who wouldn't like a handsome, charismatic guy?
"I've paid you. Let's pretend we don't know each other if we meet again."
With that, she closed the door behind her.
Samuel smirked, his eyes filled with meaning.
Such a little doll-faced girl, acting arrogant, wanting to run off after what happened.
He thought, 'Why should I do as you say? It's not that easy.'