Page 9 of The Whole Package

"You're mine." He says, and the words cause tears to well up behind my eyelids because I know they're not true; his fingers dig into my hips, pushing and pulling me into his thrusts, driving us both toward release.

CHAPTER

SEVEN

L i l y

This wasn't at all what I was expecting.

When Ava first presented me with this opportunity, the mere thought left a stain on my soul, a tinge of dirt I couldn't scrub away. Now, staring out at the twinkling city lights, the sounds of laughter and joy rising from the crowd below, the guilt feels distant, almost muted. The world spins on, oblivious to the girl who sold a piece of herself tonight.

I understand this is a one-time arrangement, a high-stakes game played with the highest bidder. In her mysterious wisdom, Ava has orchestrated this night to feel like a date, a typical encounter. But why? That's the question that gnaws at the edges of my mind.

Ava doesn't really know me, not truly. We're bound by a professional arrangement, nothing more. She owes me nothing beyond our agreed terms. Yet, here I am, living a fantasy that feels too genuine, too tender to be a mere transaction. Has she seen something in me that I haven't even acknowledged? Or is this just another part of the game, another layer in the complex world she navigates with such finesse?

"Breathtaking, ain’t it?” James’s voice cuts through my thoughts, rich and warm, dripping with that Southern charm that makes my skin tingle. It’s a casual comment, but it feelslike a secret whispered just for me. He's watching me, his gaze following mine out to the expanse of the bay below.

"It does," I admit, my voice barely above a whisper, still captivated by the view. "I've seen it a million times, but it never gets old," I add, feeling a sense of pride about my hometown.

"Oh, you're from around here?" He's genuinely curious, and the way he says it, with that charming inflection, draws an involuntary smile from me.

"Yes, born and raised," I respond, feeling connected to this place that's been my lifelong home. "What about you?"

"A little bit from here, a little bit from there," he answers casually, running a hand through his hair. There's a casual grace to his movement that only amplifies his allure. He's undeniably gorgeous, and I find myself more and more attracted to him as the night goes on. Suddenly, he surprises me, leaping from his seat to mine, causing our small cart to rock dangerously. My heart leaps into my throat, fear and excitement coursing through me.

"Oh my God," I yelp, instinctively pressing my body against his for stability. My hands grip him tightly as if he's the only thing that could keep me from falling. There's an exhilarating sense of danger in his impulsiveness, a thrill that courses through me, leaving me both alarmed and thrilled. As the cart steadies, I'm acutely aware of his body's warmth against mine, his solid strength offering a contrast to the precariousness of the moment.

"Don’t be scared, sweetheart. I’ve got you,” he says, his voice like a slow drag of honey and whiskey. It wraps around me, warm and dangerous, making my pulse quicken. I want to pull away, to keep some distance, but my body betrays me, leaning into the comfort he offers. I can't resist the urge to glance up at him, half wondering if he's aware of the effect he has on me.

"Not a fan of heights," I confess, my words almost a whisper. My hands remain steadfastly wrapped around his sturdy torso, seeking both physical support and an excuse to stay pressed against him. Our eyes meet, and there's an electric charge in the air, a palpable tension neither of us seems willing to break.

"Should've picked the cuddle carts," James says with a light chuckle, his warm breath ghosting over my skin. He's so close that his cologne envelops me, a tantalizing scent that makes my senses reel. "You a virgin in every possible way, or has someone already claimed those lips?" His question slices through the air, direct and laden with implication, freezing me in place.

Heat floods my cheeks, a burning blush that I can't control. I drop my gaze, trying to escape the intensity of his question, his scrutiny. But he won't let me retreat. His hand gently but firmly tips my chin upward, compelling me to look at him again. His eyes are piercing, searching, demanding an answer.

"Tell me I'll be the first to fuck that pretty mouth of yours," he demands, his voice a husky rasp that sends a shiver down my spine. There's an undeniable arousal building within me, a dampness between my legs that speaks of my body's betrayal. His words, raw and unfiltered, ignite a longing, a hunger that I hadn't fully acknowledged until this moment.

Without a word, I surrender to the insistent calling of my body, to the wild, reckless impulse that's been simmering beneath the surface. This moment, once passed, will be just that – a fleeting encounter, a memory that'll fade into the background of my life. I remind myself that he'll be nothing more than a shadow, a chapter closed and left behind after tonight. Leaning in, I close the gap between us, my lips brushing against his in the softest, most tentative of touches. The contact is brief, a fleeting connection that leaves a fire trail in its wake. His response is a low chuckle, a sound that resonates with amusement and something deeper, a hint of triumph perhaps.

"Oh, we are about to have some real fun," James's voice drops to a huskier tone, his expression morphing into something deliciously wicked. His hand, once tender on my face, now wanders with a boldness that takes my breath away. He cups one of my breasts, giving it a firm squeeze that elicits a moan from deep within me.

"You like that, sweetheart?" he asks, his eyes burning into mine. I can only nod, my lip caught between my teeth in anticipation and desire. "Show me how much," he urges, his gaze flicking pointedly towards my skirt. I'm lost in confusion for a moment, but then understanding dawns, and a fresh wave of heat rushes to my cheeks.

"With all the people?" I manage to stammer, the thought of such a daring act leaving me breathless. He nods, his right hand cradling my face, ensuring I'm held captive by his intense gaze. His left hand ventures lower, drawing tantalizing circles on my thigh. As his finger brushes over my clit through the thin fabric of my underwear, my hips react instinctively, seeking more of his touch. This time, when his lips find mine, I take my time. My tongue seeks his with a desperate hunger, a fervent need that's been building since we met.

"I knew you were going to be so good, but fuck if you aren't a treat," he hisses, and I practically preen, the smile on my face almost too big for me to keep kissing him. His index is already wet when it goes under my panties; the sensation of being touched like this is incredible, something else entirely. I've never been played like an instrument, and there's no other way I'd describe this feeling.

His thumb pushes against my swollen clit, and it feels like I'm in a different world as his teeth dig into my shoulder. I've never been so sensitive, never felt so exposed. And then he removes his hand altogether, and my eyes shoot open.

"Hey," I say.

"We're almost on the ground, sweetheart," he says, making a show of sucking the finger that was playing with me, eyes trained on me. I find myself squeezing my legs together, just for some friction. "Eager, huh?" He asks, mischief clear in his gaze. My breathing is ragged and heavy, and for a second, just a second, I consider leaving, calling the whole thing off as embarrassment washes over me.

"Worth every penny," he says as we exit the ride.

***

Post-Pier, James and I find ourselves in the cozy confines of a retro diner, my choice. The neon lights and vintage decor contrast the upscale settings I'm sure someone of his status is used to. As we slide into a vinyl booth, I catch the genuine delight in his eyes, a man usually surrounded by opulence, finding joy in the simplicity of this place. It's endearing to witness him relish the quaint charm of the diner.

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