Lucy was right, she had talked to her cereal bowl yesterday. She was probably losing her mind over how much she'd changed since she started having sex. To her, this new era of her life felt completely neutral—no, she wouldn't even dignify it by calling it a "phase."
Elsa smiled softly as she washed her plate. She always enjoyed teasing Lucy, who never quite realized how funny she looked when she got flustered.
Her mind drifted to her plans tonight at the club. She and Jordin had business to handle, which gave the whole arrangement a cold, pragmatic shield. It wasn't just personal—it was work. That distinction made it much easier not to overthink things.
After placing her rinsed plate in the drying rack, Elsa left the kitchen and sat down, glancing at her vintage watch. The quiet ticking marked the time: 9:40 AM. She still had a bit of time before she needed to head out—plenty of time to pack her bag and get ready. Fortunately, her workplace wasn't far. She just needed to show up and do her job. That was all.
When Elsa stood up and headed to her bedroom to gather her things, Lucy looked up from her book. She watched Elsa go, feeling a quiet sense of relief. She had noticed how well-stocked the house was lately. The fridge was full of extra groceries and their favorite treats—chocolate bars and crisp biscuits. Elsa must be earning really well, Lucy thought.
It wasn't that Lucy didn't contribute to the household—she did her fair share—but Elsa was bringing in so much that it was hard not to notice. Still, it made sense; Elsa was relentlessly hardworking. Lucy didn't feel jealous or underpaid; she was simply content with her own job, her contribution, and her life.
That evening at Rosa's club, the atmosphere inside the VIP room was heavy and charged.
Jordin towered over Elsa. Before leading her inside, he had ordered her to remove her underwear, though her skirt and shirt remained on. His hand brushed against her bare thigh, firm and intentional. Positioned between her parted legs, his pants were gone as he pushed her skirt up past her waist, exposing her smooth, shaved mound.
Jordin looked down at her with a hungry intensity, and Elsa could see it clearly in his eyes. She met his gaze with her dark brown eyes—eyes that revealed she was becoming accustomed to this, that she was accepting it as routine.
Jordin pulled a condom from his dropped clothes on the floor and rolled it on. Elsa felt a sudden spike of anxiety and anticipation at the sight of him. She craved the intense pleasure he gave her, her breathing turning shallow and uneven.
Holding her hips, Jordin pushed his thick length into her opening. Elsa's eyes dilated from the impact as a wave of heat surged through her. He began to roll his hips, driving into her with powerful, steady force. Elsa moaned, lost in the sensation, while Jordin groaned low in his throat.
The pleasure consumed her entirely. He pulled her flush against his chest, continuing his unrelenting rhythm. Elsa wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders, her breath coming in ragged gasps against his skin. Locked together in the warm, dark room, he rode inside her until his body went still into the condom.
Elsa rested her forehead against his shoulder, her chest heaving. She assumed he would give her a moment to catch her breath, but Jordin was far from finished.
"Turn around, Elsa," his deep voice broke the silence.
He's so selfish, she thought, annoyed that he wouldn't even let her rest for a minute. Yet, she obeyed. Uncoupling from him, she rolled onto her stomach, her face buried against the mattress. Her long brown hair spilled over her back, her purple shirt pushed up, and her exposed hips yielded to him.
"Bend, Elsa," he commanded, his voice a smooth, authoritative purr.
Though reluctant, she pushed herself up onto her knees, resting her hands flat against the sheets. Jordin took hold of her waist, guiding her. The head of his shaft brushed against her skin, teasing her entrance. Despite her annoyance, her body betrayed her—the heat pooling in her core made her desperate to feel him inside her again.
Jordin slid back into her, stretching her completely. Elsa gripped the bedsheets tight, helpless to the sensation. Sensing her awkward position, Jordin pulled her back against his chest, supporting her weight as he thrusted powerfully. Elsa let out a sharp moan.
His hand slithered beneath her shirt, pushing her bra up to knead her bare breast. Elsa arched her back against his solid chest as his thumb grazed her nipple, sending jolts of electricity down her spine. The combination of his hands and his continuous, heavy thrusts broke her discipline entirely, drawing breathless, trembling moans from her lips.
The rest of the night dissolved into a feverish blur of heat and unspoken surrender.
Hours later, Elsa lay completely naked on the bed, her clothes scattered across the floor. Her body was thoroughly spent, glowing with the lingering aftershocks of pleasure.
Jordin had finished and gone into the adjoining bathroom; the steady hiss of the shower echoed through the door. Feeling suddenly exposed and vulnerable, Elsa pulled the duvet up to her chin, covering herself.
Part of her wanted to pretend to be asleep so she wouldn't have to face him—so she wouldn't see the judgment in his eyes or deal with the burning embarrassment in her chest. But she forced herself to stay awake, determined to face it.
Inside the shower, Jordin let the hot water wash over him. He knew how much money he gave Elsa, and despite her subtle resistance and naivety, he could tell she was growing addicted to the sensation. He brushed the thought aside.
When the water stopped, Jordin stepped out, a towel low around his waist. Elsa froze under the covers, watching him through guarded eyes.
"You can use the shower before you leave," Jordin said, drying his hair with a hand towel.
"Okay," Elsa replied quietly, averting her eyes.
Before she could move, Jordin's phone buzzed with a text from his secretary. Switching into business mode, he dressed quickly. Elsa felt a wave of relief—his rush meant his attention was off her.
Jordin pulled a checkbook from his jacket, wrote out a sum, and placed the paper on the bedside table. Without another word, he gathered his things and left the room.
The moment the door clicked shut, Elsa let out a long breath.
"You're such a slut," she whispered to herself in the quiet room, a pang of self-loathing hitting her.
Yet, she was grateful he was gone so she could gather her dignity. She threw off the duvet and stood up, her gaze falling on the check on the table.
$700,000.
It was a staggering sum, one he had been giving her regularly now. She stared at it for a moment, her naked body cold in the air, before turning away to head into the bathroom.
Under the showerhead, she scrubbed her skin raw, trying to wash away the scent and memory of their encounter. Once finished, she wrapped herself in a fresh towel, dressed in her clothes, and retrieved the check.
Checking her reflection in the mirror, she carefully composed herself. She looked polished, composed, and professional—a stark contrast to how she felt inside.
She stepped out into the private lounge area. The room was empty, the table adorned with untouched drinks. She cast a nervous glance toward the exit, praying the bodyguards weren't standing right outside. Finding the corridor clear, she let out a quiet sigh of relief and slipped out into the hall.
As she walked away from the VIP suite, a familiar shadow of guilt settled over her. She hated herself for giving in so easily—and she hated that, deep down, she was starting to crave the very pleasure she tried so hard to resist.