Page 14 of The Whole Package

"Show me," I beg, but the words barely leave my mouth because my body is on the verge of exploding. His thumb joins his fingers, finding my swollen clit and massaging it gently, and I'm done for.

"I'm gonna.."

"Let it go," he commands, and I do, completely, as his fingers work me over, and the orgasm tears through my body. He doesn't stop until I'm spent, and a few tears have trailed down my cheeks, and then his fingers are gone.

"Good girl," he says with a grin, pulling me back towards him, "but we're not done." He turns me around, bending me over the sink, his hand pushes my hair back, and then he's entering me, hard and rough.

"Ah," I pant, the sensation taking me by surprise.

"Fuck," he curses as his hips meet my ass, his dick deep inside me, filling me.

"Oh god," I whine. He pulls my hair, arching my back, and then his hips move, slow at first and then faster and harder, pounding into me with a rhythm so hard I know it's going to bruise.

"Carlisle," I moan, and that makes him go harder, faster. His dick is so deep inside me, stretching me. It feels so good.

"Tell me you're only fucking me for fame" he demands. His fingers are working on my clit again, rubbing and massaging, and then another orgasm is building.

"Yes," I whimper.

"Say it!" He roars, slapping my ass.

"I'm only fucking you for fame!" The words leave my lips before the next orgasm does, ripping through me as his cock continues to thrust inside me.

"Carmen," he groans, and a few seconds later, he pulls out, turning me around and spilling his cum on my tits, letting out a roar as he finishes.

I can feel myself grinning. He knows my name.

CHAPTER

ELEVEN

D i a n a

Requests for engagements with multiple partners were familiar in my line of work. It's not that I particularly relish these scenarios; they come with complexities and nuances that can be challenging. But when the pay is as good as it was for this one, I remind myself of the pragmatic reasons for doing what I do. The mortgage payment is looming, an ever-present reminder of my responsibilities. And then there's the gala, an event I can't afford to miss, both for the sake of my image and my relationship with my fiancé.

At one point, I toyed with the idea of coming clean to Robert. Not about my job, of course – that secret is one I plan to take to my grave. But the financial struggles, the weight that's been crushing me, that was a different story. When he started medical school, I had naively agreed to support him. Love can make you promise the stars, even when barely holding a candle. I hadn't fully comprehended the burden it would place on my shoulders, nor the strain it would put on our relationship. Our finances were a tightrope walk, and with each passing day, we seemed closer to falling. The threat of losing everything we had built loomed over us, a dark cloud in our shared sky.

That's when Ava came into my life, an unexpected savior with an offer that seemed too good to refuse. She promised extracash, unimaginable amounts on my hair salon wages. At the time, the decision felt like stepping from a sinking ship onto a life raft. Ava painted a picture of financial freedom, of easy money for services I convinced myself were a reasonable price.

After my first encounter arranged by Ava, I found myself suddenly able to breathe easier. The rent was paid, the pantry was stocked, and the pressure of financial strain eased for the first time in a long while. There was no turning back after that. I had crossed a line, stepping into a double life with a clear objective: to maintain this façade long enough for Robert and me to secure our own place, for him to finish med school and start his career as a doctor.

But life, as I've learned, rarely follows the script we write. After his graduation came the stark reality of internships and the grueling years of residency. His wage, a pittance in the grand scheme of our expenses, couldn't sustain the lifestyle I had painstakingly built over the years. To explain our sudden financial upturn, I told Robert about my 'celebrity clients' at the salon, fabricating a story about high-paying house calls.

Eventually, I left the salon to keep up with the charade, telling Robert I was focusing solely on these lucrative home visits. It was a half-truth. Yes, I was visiting the homes of the wealthy, but not to style their hair or enhance their beauty. My role was more intimate and complex – I was there to provide comfort and fulfill desires.

"Hey, boys," I call out with practiced ease as the door swings open, revealing Ryder and Ryan waiting for me. The contrast between them is as stark as night and day, yet equally captivating. Ryder towers at an imposing 6'3", his dark curls framing a face that perfectly blends rugged and handsome. His blue eyes are like the ocean, deep and mesmerizing, pulling me in every time I gaze into them.

Then there's Ryan, with his dirty blonde hair styled into a bun, the sides shaved neatly. His features are sharply defined, a sculptor's dream, and his hazel eyes are warmly reminiscent of golden honey. They're both breathtaking in their own right, the kind of men who turn heads wherever they go.

I've seen them enough times to consider them regulars, yet each encounter feels freshly intoxicating. It's always puzzled me why men as gorgeous and young as they are would need to seek out someone like me. They could easily have their pick of women, and as far as I know, they do. Last I heard both were in committed relationships, living what seemed to be typical, desirable lives.

But beneath the veneer of normalcy lies their shared secret, a kink that their girlfriends wouldn't or couldn't satisfy. Ryder and Ryan share a predilection for something more adventurous, more taboo. They like to share not just moments or experiences but also partners. And that's where I come in.

"Looking beautiful as always," Ryder comments, his voice smooth as I stride past them, my bag finding its place on one of the hotel chairs. My eyes briefly scan the bed, perfectly made and adorned with rose petals arranged like a heart. It's charming in its cliché, a touch of romance in an otherwise unromantic arrangement.

"Yeah, you look amazing," Ryan chimes in, and I catch the subtle bite of his lip as he watches me settle onto the bed. My legs cross elegantly, and I allow my gaze to sweep over them, taking in their anticipation.

"Thank you," I reply, letting my hair cascade behind one shoulder with a practiced movement. "You guys look pretty good, too," I say, injecting a note of sultriness into my voice. As I sit there, the woman engaged to be married, the one deeply in love with her fiancé, is left at the door. In this room, I am a chameleon, shifting to meet the desires of my clients. Tonight,I know precisely what Ryder and Ryan want: a submissive partner, someone who will yield to their shared will, a canvas for their shared fantasies.

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