"It's so cold" I whispered into his ears, my lips barely brushing skin as the words slipped out.
Sweat slicked my spine, and the room felt too wide, like sound and touch were echoing a second late.
The air between us felt thick, heavy, almost frozen. He didn't move. He didn't grin. It was as though I was talking to myself, my voice swallowed by the silence. All I felt was his heavy breath spilling onto my lips, warm and steady, hovering just before our mouths could touch.
The dark-haired, seven-feet-tall man with ocean eyes was rough when he grabbed me by the neck, his fingers firm and unapologetic. With his other hand, he yanked off my pink bra in one sharp motion. The snap echoed louder in my head than it should have.
A soft gasp escaped my lips before I could stop it. My body betrayed me, responding before my mind could catch up. It hurt a little, his grip, his force but pleasure rushed through my veins all the same, hot and confusing.
My knees weakened. I hated how ready I felt, how my skin burned where he touched me. Whatever would come next, my body was already bracing for it.
"Please do it," I groaned out shamelessly, begging him to stop teasing and get to the full evil act. The words tasted desperate in my mouth.
His lips curved slightly, not into a smile, but something darker. He leaned in, his mouth traveling to my neck. He licked and sucked my skin like it was a lollipop, slow and deliberate, as if savoring every second.
I could see it in his eyes—he enjoyed it. He looked unreal, dangerous, almost unrealistically beautiful, like a vampire.
I sure love myself a vampire CEO especially the one who knows how to work his way with a woman. Still, something about his silence felt off, like he was studying me instead of wanting me.
"What's your name?' his gentle voice rang out, startling me. I stared straight into his eyes, caught off guard, and before I could answer, he bit my left ear like it was his favorite snack. The sharp pull sent a shiver down my spine.
Finally, he spoke. But reality crept in fast. My job never allowed me to reveal my identity to clients. It was against the contract I had signed.
"Mona Lisa," I muttered under my breath as I lied. I couldn't reveal anything about myself. All I had to do was spend the night and get paid.
One mission burned through me like fire.
GET LAID, GET PAID.
A deadline pressed at the back of my mind—the hospital bills, the collector's calls, the thin warning voice that said there was no more time.
I needed the money.
"Why did you lie?' he said, his tone calm, almost curious. His hands slid down my thighs, firm and slow, spreading my legs open. A sharp breath tore out of me—I almost screamed at the sudden movement.
His fingers brushed my pink panties before moving lower, touching me down there.
I froze. For a second, my whole body locked up. I had told myself I was ready for this. I reminded myself that this was just about money. But fear crept in anyway, cold and unwelcome. Then, without warning, he yanked off my panties aggressively. His nails brushed harshly against my opening.
I screamed out loud.
My dignity lay exposed in front of a stranger. There was no hiding anymore. He could see everything.
"Why are you shivering? Are you virgin?" he smiled, a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
He was right.
I was a virgin.
I watched him lower his head, moving closer to my hole, ready to taste me. And then it happened.
A sudden, strange, smelly fart escaped out of me.
The sound was loud, disturbing, like a siren cutting through the moment. It echoed around the room and hit his face.
"Fuck"
I jolted awake.
My heart pounded violently as I sucked in air, clutching my golden purse to my chest like it was my lifeline. The air smelled different now, too sharp, too real, and my hands were shaking.
Fear crawled all over my skin. What exactly was that dream? It felt too real—too detailed.
It was my first night working at Sodom, the house of extreme pleasure, and that dream shook me to my core. Farting on a client's face? The thought made my stomach twist.
Was it just my nerves, or was the universe warning me about what would happen if I sold my virginity for money?
A voice cut through my thoughts.
"Are you ready?" the tall woman asked.
I nodded.
She owned Sodom. She was the one who brought in wealthy clients, especially CEOs. Everything here had rules—spoken softly, enforced loudly and breaking them was never an option.
"You can't go dressed like this," she said, giving me a slow head-to-toe assessment, her eyes sharp and calculating.
She clapped once.
A huge man walked in. My mind wandered for half a second, wondering how huge he might be down there, before I shook the thought away.
"Follow me," his deep voice rang in my ears.
I obeyed, trailing behind him like a chick following its mother.
The hallway stole my breath. Everywhere I looked was a pleasure zone. Men and women shamelessly doing things I couldn't even put into words. Bodies tangled, sounds filled the air. Pleasure in its rawest form. I stopped judging quickly, I knew I would soon be part of it.
He led me into a small room that reeked of strong perfumes and sprays. The smell hit me hard, curling into my nostrils like toxic fog. I almost choked. Lingerie hung everywhere, every corner, every wall, every inch of space. The room was so cramped that two people could barely fit inside.
I picked one up, my fingers trembling.
Were these lingerie or something else entirely? There was almost no difference between wearing one of these and being naked. I screamed under my breath in disgust.
"Be quick, boss hates sluggish women," he warned, then walked away, leaving me alone.
I stared at my reflection in the mirror. My eyes shone brightly under the flickering light, filled with fear and determination. I couldn't believe I was here. But I had no choice. This was the only way to pay my father's debt and afford my mother's treatment.
Just one night with the right billionaire could change my life forever.
I laughed softly as the dream crossed my mind again.
Dreams are indeed mad, I whispered.
After searching, I found a blue gown. I slipped into it quickly. It fit like it was made for me, except for my boobs—pushed out so boldly it felt like they might pop. Still, it was manageable.
Just a night, I reminded myself, breathing deeply to calm my nerves.
When I opened the door, the same man stood outside like a bouncer.
"Your mates are waiting," he said.
I followed him again. The room we entered looked like a feast—foods I had never seen or tasted before covered the tables. About ten other women stood there, all dressed in lingerie. I knew why they were here.
Mrs. Pepero smiled warmly at me, the kind of smile that stayed gentle even when the room went quiet, even when everyone else stiffened.
"Let's welcome our new member, Brianna," she announced.
I forced a smile. The other girls didn't react. Their faces were blank, frozen, like dolls. Hypnotized.
"Clap," Mrs. Pepero screamed.
Fear rushed down my spine. Immediately, the girls clapped and smiled.
It was the creepiest thing I had ever seen.
"I will leave you girls to bond and eat then we will prepare to leave," she said with a hollow smile before walking away.
I avoided the girls and headed straight for the bar. I took two shots quickly. When one of them approached me, I walked away and went to the bathroom instead, unaware someone followed me.
As I stepped out, she stood there. "My name is Kira," she whispered quickly, like saying it might cost her something.
My heart slammed against my chest. Her sunken, swollen eyes sent chills down my spine.
"What are you doing here?' I asked.
"You have to run away while you still can, Miss pepereo isn't who she seems to be please run away, she will make you do things you shouldn't do, take all your profit fit and ask you to travel all around to meet clients against your will. She is the devil," she cried.
She grabbed my hand.
I didn't believe her. The money clouded my judgment.
She rolled up her sleeves and all I saw were scars.
"Who did this you?" I asked.
"Her client, they don't treat us like humans. You are new please go," she said.
The door banged open.
"She is mentally unstable she says strange things," the man said before others dragged her away.
I stood frozen.
If she was mentally unstable, who caused those scars?
Fear rooted itself deep inside me.
I entered the bus, soft music hummed from unseen speakers, too calm for the way my chest tightened.
Was she right?
The doors locked shut. The engine started on its own, steady and final, and the windows sealed with a dull click.
And suddenly, running no longer felt like an option.
The bus jerked forward.
As I was about to sit, my eyes caught something on the seat. A deep, red smear glistened faintly under the dim light. My heart skipped. I froze, fingers hovering above it, breath caught in my throat.
Cautiously, I touched it. Cold, sticky, and sharp against my skin, sending a shiver up my arm. The scent hit me—metallic, unfamiliar. My stomach twisted, pulse racing.
Is it wine… or could it be something else?
I pulled my hand back, pressing it to my chest, heartbeat thundering. The bus felt heavier, quieter, the engine hum echoing in my ears.
What is this?