The first thing I felt when I woke up was the ache between my legs. It wasn't painful it just felt ... different, like a part of me had been quietly, irrevocably rearranged. My eyes blinked open slowly, heavy with sleep and something darker. Confusion. Regret. I stared up at the unfamiliar ceiling, it was a smooth expanse of white broken by the angular lines of recessed lighting and the distant skyline beyond a curtainless wall of glass.
Ivana what have you done!
Last night had felt different than I had imagined, it was too intimate, too slow. The way he whispered my name like it meant something. But maybe that was just part of the illusion, too.
The scent of cedarwood and sex clung to the silk sheets tangled around my limbs. My skin still tingled where his hands had been, where his mouth had explored me like a secret he wanted to own. Shame bloomed hot in my chest, I blushed, my cheeks turning red as I remembered the events of last night, I was no longer a virgin, I have been defiled, by a strange man.
I turned my head and starred at him, Kyl slept beside me.
He looked nothing like he had the night before, he looked Softer and less dangerous. One of his arm draped around my waist possessively, anchoring me to the bed as if even in sleep, he refused to let go. My heart pounded. I didn't want to wake him. I didn't want to face him, not like this. I did not know what to say to him, I couldn't face him.
Carefully, I began to slide away. Inch by inch, I lifted his arm, holding my breath. His fingers twitched. I froze.
I am going to run out of here as fast as I can before he wakes up.
suddenly he stirred.
His voice, low and gravelly from sleep, scraped across my nerves. "Going somewhere?"
I froze, clutching the sheet tighter around my chest as I sat up. My dress lay crumpled at the edge of the bed like a symbol of everything I'd lost.
"I didn't want to wake you," I mumbled, not meeting his eyes.
"You didn't."
His voice was unreadable, but I could feel his gaze like a touch across my bare skin. I forced myself to move, climbing out of the bed and collecting my dress with trembling fingers. I tried not to wince as I straightened. My body still remembered everything, his thrust, his kisses, his touch.
Kyl threw the sheet aside and stood, completely unashamed in his nakedness. My eyes betrayed me, flicking down over the taut lines of his body, over the smooth skin stretched across solid muscle and the trail of dark hair that disappeared below his hips. I gulped, amazed at the size of his big d**k, I couldn't believe I had taken that inside of me last night, I suddenly felt pride.
He caught the glance and smirked.
My cheeks burned, ashamed that he could read my thoughts.
He walked to a low dresser on the far wall, pulled open a drawer, and removed a sleek black money clip. My stomach twisted. I didn't want it, I didn't want the money anymore.
"I told you I'd pay," he said casually, counting out a thick stack of bills. "Fifty thousand. Clean and simple."
I stayed frozen.
He approached, holding the cash between two fingers. My heart thudded painfully in my chest. I hesitated.
"Take it," he said, voice soft but firm. "It's what we agreed."
I reached out slowly. The moment I touched the money, something inside me fractured. The weight of it in my hand felt too real. Too cold.
He studied me as I reached for the cash. Not with judgment. Not with pity. Something colder. Calculating. Like he was memorizing this version of me—the girl who takes the money but looks like she wants to cry.
I had just sold my virginity to Kyle Ronald, I felt dirty.
He didn't blink. "If you ever want to do business again," he said, "call my assistant. She'll take care of the arrangements."
Business.
The word echoed in my ears. It cut sharper than any insult. I was just business to him, just a fling, but ofcourse.
Get a grip of yourself Ivana, what did you expect.
I nodded stiffly, clutching the money like a shield. I didn't trust myself to speak. My throat was dry. My eyes burned. I turned away quickly and stepped into my discarded heels. My legs were unsteady, but I didn't stop.
"Don't forget your panties," he called after me, amused.
I didn't turn back.
The penthouse door slid shut behind me, sealing me out of that glittering world of marble and sin. I pressed the elevator button with shaking fingers and stared at my reflection in the mirrored doors.
Mascara smudged. Lips swollen. Shame written across every inch of my face.
As the elevator descended, I exhaled for the first time.
And as the city swallowed me up again, I realized the truth:
I'd sold myself.
And I wasn't sure I'd ever feel clean again.