Page 10 of The Whole Package

The certainty of what was to come hung in the air, an unspoken promise, as we arrived at our destination, a luxurious hotel room unlike anything I had ever seen. Stepping into the lavish space, I could feel the anticipation building, a tangible current between us. I excused myself for a shower, the hot water cascading over my skin, washing away the day's remains and leaving me feeling refreshed and achingly aware of what was to come. Wrapped in a plush hotel robe, I sank into the softness of the bed, the crisp linens cool against my skin. The remote in my hand felt oddly mundane as I aimlessly flipped through the channels, but it was a welcome distraction as I waited for James.

My mind replayed the evening, the laughter and shared glances at the diner, the electric touch on the Ferris wheel, each memory stoking the fire of my anticipation. The sound of theshower running in the background was a constant reminder that the space between us would soon be erased.

"Looking for porn?" He asks, making me jump; I didn't hear the bathroom door open. My mouth flies open when I look over in his direction — he's fully nude, not even a towel wrapped around his waist, nothing.

"No, I- " I start but am entirely at a loss for words at the sight of him. Jesus, can the man get any hotter?

"Here's what's gonna happen —" He starts, placing his right knee on the bed and moving closer to me. "I'm going to eat your sweet pussy 'til you see God, like the good southern gentlemen I am." He leans in and steals a peck from my lips. "And then I'm going to make you come so fucking hard, you'll be screaming for mercy, begging me to stop and that is when I'll finally fuck you."

And just like on the Pier, I'm completely gone.

"Does that sound good to you, sweetheart?" he asks, fully leaning into me as his hand tightens on my hair, his mouth touches my earlobe, and his breath grazes my neck. The same reaction happens between my legs, and it is the same ache for him. I can tell he has no doubt that his words are working perfectly.

Instead of answering with words, I let my right-hand travel down from his chiseled chest, grazing the tattoo on his abdomen but not daring to go any lower. I suck in a breath, suddenly wishing I wasn't a virgin, wishing I had some experience at least to offer the man before me. Then again, he was paying for my virginity. He knew he'd be dealing with inexperience, but that still doesn't make my feelings of inadequacy vanish.

Without looking at him, I wrap my hand around his dick, the touch eliciting a low hiss from him, but it encourages me to continue. He's hot and hard under my fingers as I use both my hands to caress him and it. His hips thrust into my hands ashis grip on my hair tightens, and his groans grow loader, but he pushes my hand away, and instantly, I feel nauseous regret.

"Did I do it wrong?" I ask shyly. His hand in my hair releases, ever so slowly, tracing down the length of my arm and parting the robe so my chest is fully exposed to him, the slightest of touches on my nipples sending electric waves through my entire body.

"Nothing is ever wrong with you, sweetheart," he breathes out, the mere words making my body react with pride. "I'm just hungry for a taste," he growls, and in one swift motion, I am lying on my back, and his face is already buried between my parted legs. The second his wet tongue touches my folds and his lips close on my clit, my entire body pushes forward, and one of my hands takes hold of the sheets, holding on for dear life. When I prop my head up to watch him devour me, my gaze is instantly locked with his, and I watch as one of his hands travels to his body and strokes himself. I realize how much he's enjoying this, and it makes me push my body to him, desperate to have more of his mouth on me.

It's sinful what this man is doing to me and he's using no more than his mouth and tongue now. I'm writhing, pushing against his face, and somehow he knows I need more. His left hand moves around my inner thighs before his fingers find my wet center, and as soon as he inserts one inside of me, it is like a shock goes through my body. It's a welcome invasion, and my body swallows it whole, desperately needing to be filled with more.

"Easy, sweetheart, I don't wanna hurt you," he says, looking up at me before continuing to swirl his tongue against my center. After what could have been the longest seconds, he stands up, and just the mere fact that his touch on my pussy is gone is enough to make me moan. From the other side of the bed,he retrieves his jeans and fishes a foil, climbing back onto the mattress and showing me the wrapper.

"I'm gonna put it on, and it's gonna hurt a little, but I promise to be gentle. That's the whole point of fucking a virgin," he says, and I watch as he rips the condom open with his teeth before putting it on his hard length in a circular motion. "I'm gonna need you to beg me to have my cock inside that pretty pussy; I wanna hear it," he continues, aligning himself between my legs before he rubs his dick up and down my slit, making me absolutely mad with need. "I want you to want it, sweetheart, or I won't give it to you," his voice is just a rough whisper as he leans in, holding himself above me with a muscular arm.

"Please —"

"Please, what, Lily?" He teases.

"Please, I want you to fuck me," I breathe, the words coming out like the rawest truth. I feel the tip of his dick go in, stretching me out, the sensation at once foreign, overwhelming, and the most natural thing.

"Gonna go slow, just relax," he says softly.

"I don't think it's going to fit," I look at him, "But God, I need it." With that, he groans before pushing himself further into me, enough to rip a moan from me. I open my mouth and hear a stream of I'm sorry, I didn't mean, but there's no taking it back.

"Don't say sorry about that again; I fucking love that it hurts you," his words come out cold and sharp, his first thrusts mimicking the tone perfectly. After a couple of minutes of moving in and out of me at a frenzied pace, one of his hands wraps around my throat, squeezing ever so lightly. "I want to fuck you harder," he says, and I can tell that this time it's more of a rhetorical question.

My left-hand wraps around his wrist as I tilt my head upwards and down to take him deeper. He spreads my legs wider, somehow going in even deeper, finding a new spot in me, hittingit more precisely, and making me see white as the knot in my belly untangles itself. My orgasm — my first, not self-induced — takes over. I take him by surprise, and the shock on his face quickly molds into a pleased, almost wicked smile as his own thrusts become more erratic and almost animal-like before his breath releases. He spills himself into the condom, growing soft inside me.

"Fuck," he says between heavy breaths, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and sitting up with his back to the headboard, bringing me along. We sit there without talking for the longest moment, just looking at each other before I feel him pull away.

CHAPTER

EIGHT

A V A

The corridors of Brooks & Associates stretch before me, a path I've traversed so often that I might as well be part of the furniture. The familiar faces of the staff no longer register surprise at my presence; to them, I'm just another fixture in this world of legal battles and corporate negotiations. But the work I come here for is different, one that doesn't require a law degree – at least, not yet.

"Mr. Brooks, your three o'clock is here," announces his impeccably dressed secretary, her voice as crisp as her attire. I glide past her into the inner sanctum with a practiced smile and a nod. The door closes with a soft click, sealing us in privacy. Inside, the room is already set for our rendezvous. The heavy curtains are drawn, casting the office in a dim, intimate glow. On his polished desk, two glasses of whiskey sit waiting, the amber liquid catching the scant light, promising warmth and a hint of forbidden pleasures.

"Lock the door," Matthew Brooks commands, his voice resonating with authority as he swivels in his imposing leather chair to face me. Complying with his directive, my fingers deftly secured the lock. The soft click sounds like a starting gun, marking the beginning of our clandestine encounter. I place my purse on one of the small couches at the end of hisexpansive office, a space that's become a familiar playground of secret indulgences. "You look incredible as always, Ava." His compliment is delivered in a low and husky tone, a voice I've come to associate with afternoons like this. It tells me he's already had his fill of the mundane – lunch, meetings, the trappings of his powerful position – and is now primed for something far more satisfying. His gaze sweeps over me, appreciative and hungry, and I feel a familiar thrill.

"It's nice to see you too, Matt," I respond with a softness that belies the power play unfolding between us. Gracefully, I close the distance between us, my hand curling around the glass he has prepared. The whiskey burns pleasantly as it travels down my throat, a familiar warmth that sets the tone for what's to come. It's not about needing courage, but I know better than to turn him down for a drink. Matthew Brooks does not like to hear the word 'No.'

"How many of these have you had today?" I inquire, my eyes drifting to the half-empty bottle on his desk. It's a subtle probe, gauging where he is, what I might be walking into.

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