"I love you."
The words tumble out of my mouth like a confession at gunpoint, hanging in the air between us as my hips freeze mid-thrust.
My stomach knots with the sheer pathetic weight of what I've just done. Here I am, buried deep inside Emily, in some anonymous hotel room with its generic art and starched sheets, confessing love to a woman I pay to fuck me. The ceiling fan whirs overhead, counting the seconds of unbearable silence following my monumental stupidity.
I can't even blame the heat of the moment. I've been carrying these feelings for months, watching the clock during my graveyard shifts, counting down until I could scrape together enough cash to see her again. But confessing? That wasn't part of the transaction.
Emily's eyes widen, her perfectly styled white braid falling across one bare breast. I brace myself for the practiced sympathy, the gentle letdown that's surely coming. I'm just another client who's confused sex for intimacy, another lonely man mistaking professional warmth for something real.
But then her soft and maternal hands that know exactly how to touch me, cup my face. Her pussy clenches around my raw cock so intensely that I nearly come right then.
"Dan," she whispers, and I notice something I've never seen before, tears gathering in those calculating blue eyes. "I love you too."
The words hit me like a physical blow. I search her face for the lie, for the performance, but all I see is raw vulnerability cracking through her professional veneer.
She kisses me hard, not the calculated, perfect kisses she usually gives, but something messy and desperate. Her hips surge upward, taking me deeper.
"Don't stop," she breathes against my mouth. "Please don't stop."
I start moving again, my brain short-circuiting as she wraps her legs around my waist. This isn't the choreographed sex we used to have when I first met her. This is something else entirely. Her nails dig into my back, leaving marks I'll find tomorrow and press on just to feel the sting of this moment again.
"I shouldn't have said…" I begin, but she cuts me off.
"I've been waiting," she confesses between gasps. "Hoping you would."
My hips slam forward with renewed urgency, each thrust deeper than the last. The headboard thumps rhythmically against the wall, keeping time with our ragged breathing.
"Is this…Fuck… Is this actually happening?" I pant, driving into her slick heat again and again. "This isn't just some fantasy you're selling me, right?"
Her eyes lock onto mine, pupils blown wide with desire.
"Feel me," she gasps, guiding my hand to her thundering heartbeat. Her skin is flushed, sweat-slicked, nothing like the polished perfection she normally maintains. "Does this feel fake to you?"
I groan as she clenches around me again, her body speaking truths her profession taught her to hide. My thumb finds her clit, circling with the precise pressure she's shown me she likes.
Her body trembles under my touch, her eyes never leaving mine as she arches into me. The intensity between us feels electric, surreal.
"So," I manage between ragged breaths, my hips never slowing, "does this mean we can actually go on real dates now? Like normal people?"
Emily's lips part in surprise before curving into that smile that's haunted my dreams for months. She nods, her white braid bouncing against her flushed skin.
"That," she gasps as I hit a spot deep inside her, "and so much more, I hope. As long as you're okay with..."
Her voice trails off, but I see the unspoken truth in her eyes. The reality of who she is, what she does. My cock throbs almost painfully inside her as understanding passes between us. Something about knowing other men pay for what I'm experiencing right now, what I'm feeling, sends a deep heat flooding through me.
"I can't quit," she whispers, vulnerability naked in her voice. "The money…"
"I'm not asking you to quit," I interrupt, driving deeper inside her. "I fell for you knowing exactly who you are, Emily. Every part of you."
The tension leaves her body in a rush, and something like wonder crosses her face. Her inner walls pulse around me as she reaches up to stroke my cheek.
"As long as you accept me," she breathes, "I'll be yours."
A groan tears from my throat, primal and raw. I can't hold back anymore, my hips pistoning with desperate need. Emily matches my rhythm perfectly, her professional expertise blending with genuine passion in a way that makes my head spin.
I crash my lips against hers, swallowing her gasps as the pressure building inside me reaches its breaking point. My entire body tenses, pleasure exploding through every nerve ending as I pulse deep inside her unprotected warmth.
"I love you," I whisper again against her mouth, the words no longer frightening but necessary as my essence floods her. "Fuck, Emily, I love you so much."
Her eyes widen, then flutter closed as her body responds to mine. She tightens around me in rhythmic waves, her back arching dramatically off the mattress. A primal moan tears from her throat, nothing like the calculated, performative sounds I'd heard in our earlier encounters. This is raw, unfiltered Emily, coming undone beneath me.
"Dan," she gasps, her nails digging half-moons into my shoulders. "Oh god, Dan! I love you!"
I keep thrusting through her orgasm, gentler now but determined to prolong her pleasure. Her thighs tremble against my hips, her whole body quivering with aftershocks that milk the last drops from me. I've never felt so completely drained, so utterly satisfied, so terrifyingly vulnerable.
When we finally still, I rest my forehead against hers, our ragged breathing synchronizing in the quiet room. I'm afraid to pull out, afraid to break this connection that feels more meaningful than anything I've ever experienced. My minimum-wage paycheck just bought me something priceless, honesty from a woman who sells fantasies for a living.
"You realize," she says, tracing lazy patterns on my sweat-slicked back, "you just came inside a professional escort without protection."
Panic jolts through me like an electric shock.
"But… You've let me finish inside before," I stammer, suddenly feeling like a teenager caught doing something forbidden rather than a grown man in bed with his escort... girlfriend? Lover? Whatever we are now.
Emily's laughter is rich and warm as she cups my face between her palms. Her thumb traces my lower lip in a way that makes my spent cock twitch impossibly against her.
"I'm teasing you, silly," she purrs, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Now that we're... more than business, you can fill me up whenever you want." Her lips brush my ear, sending shivers down my spine. "After work hours, of course. And completely free of charge."
Heat floods my face.
"There is one more thing I have to tell you," she says, her expression shifting slightly as she pulls back to look at me. "I have a daughter about your age."
I blink, processing this new information. "Oh?"
"She's a good girl, smart." Emily's fingers toy with a loose strand of her white braid. "Very different from her mother."
"It's not an issue," I say quickly. "I mean, I'm dating you, not your family tree."
Her smile falters, a shadow crossing her face. "My daughter doesn't exactly... approve of my career choices. She found out what I do a few years ago. Things have been strained between us ever since, but we do still live together."
I nod, understanding the complexity of her life in a way I hadn't before. "I won't do anything to come between you two. I promise."
Emily's eyebrows knit together. "No, that's not what I'm saying at all." She sighs, tracing patterns on my chest. "I just didn't want you to be blindsided if you ever came over and there was a sullen, almost twenty-something glaring at you from the kitchen."
"Oh," I say, relief washing through me. "That's fine. Totally fine."
She wraps her arms around me tighter, pressing her soft breasts against my chest. I can feel her heartbeat, strong and steady against mine. We're still connected intimately, my softening cock nestled inside her warmth. It feels different now, sacred almost.
She shifts a little beneath me, her expression growing serious as she watches my face. "Dan, I need to be completely honest with you. You say you're fine with my work, but have you really thought about what that means?" Her fingers trace my jawline. "I know you said it's fine, but I want to be absolutely clear, you realize I'll still be fucking other men while we're together, right?"
The words hit me like a splash of cold water, yet simultaneously send an unexpected surge of heat through my groin. I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry. A complicated tangle of emotions floods through me, jealousy coiling in my stomach alongside a forbidden thrill that makes no logical sense. My cock, still nestled inside her warmth, betrays me with a definite pulse of interest.
Emily notices. Her eyes widen slightly, and that professional's smile curves her lips as she shifts her hips subtly against mine. "Well, well," she purrs, "that's an interesting reaction, Mr. Anderson."
I feel my face burning. "I..." My voice catches, and I have to try again. "It won't be an issue." The words come out steadier than I expected, surprising even myself with their conviction.
Her fingers thread through my hair, tugging just enough to make my breath catch. "Are you sure? Because there's no shame in admitting if it bothers you."
I shake my head, trying to sort through the contradictory emotions. "No, I mean it. I want you exactly as you are, Emily. The rest... We'll figure it out."