NUEVE MESES CON EL MULTIMILLIONARIO MORIBUNDOES

"It's so cold," I whispered in her ear, my lips barely touching her skin as the words escaped.

Sweat ran down my back, and the room felt too big.

The air between us felt thick and heavy. He didn't move. He didn't smile. It was as if I were talking to myself, my voice swallowed by the silence. All I felt was his heavy breath spilling over my lips, warm and steady, hovering just before our mouths could touch.

The dark-haired man, seven feet tall with ocean-colored eyes, was rough when he grabbed my neck, his fingers firm and unapologetic. With his other hand, he ripped off my pink bra in one swift motion. The snap echoed louder in my head than it should have.

A soft gasp escaped my lips before I could stop him. My body betrayed me, responding before my mind could catch up. It hurt a little—his grip, his strength—but pleasure coursed through my veins anyway, hot and fuzzy.

My knees went weak. I hated how prepared I felt, how my skin burned where he touched me. Whatever was coming next, my body was already preparing for it.

"Please, do it," I moaned shamelessly, begging him to stop teasing me and get on with the whole wicked act. The words tasted of desperation in my mouth.

Her lips curved slightly, not in a smile, but in something darker. She leaned toward me, bringing her mouth to my neck. She licked and sucked my skin like a lollipop, slowly and deliberately, as if savoring every second.

I could see it in his eyes: he was enjoying it. He looked unreal, dangerous, almost unrealistically beautiful, like a vampire.

I'm sure I love vampire CEOs, especially the ones who know how to treat a woman. Even so, something about his silence felt off, like he was studying me rather than desiring me.

"What's your name?" his soft voice echoed, startling me. I looked directly into his eyes, taken aback, and before I could answer, he bit my left ear as if it were his favorite snack. The sharp tug sent a shiver down my spine.

Finally, he spoke. But reality quickly set in. My job never allowed me to reveal my identity to clients. It went against the contract I had signed.

"Mona Lisa," I muttered under my breath as I lied. I couldn't reveal anything about myself. All I had to do was spend the night and get paid.

A mission burned inside me like fire.

Get laid, get paid.

A deadline was pressing in the back of my mind: the hospital bills, the calls from debt collectors, the faint voice of warning that said there was no time left.

I needed the money.

"Why did you lie?" he said, his tone calm, almost curious. His hands slid down my thighs, firm and slow, parting my legs. A sharp breath escaped me; I almost cried out at the sudden movement.

His fingers brushed against my pink panties before going lower, touching me down there.

I froze. For a second, my whole body shut down. I'd told myself I was prepared for this. I reminded myself this was just for money. But the fear crept in anyway, cold and unwelcome. Then, without warning, he ripped off my panties aggressively. His nails scraped hard against my opening.

I screamed out loud.

My dignity was exposed to a stranger. There was no way to hide anymore. He could see everything.

"Why are you trembling? Are you a virgin?" he smiled, a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

He was right.

She was a virgin.

I watched him lower his head, approaching my hole, ready to test me. And then it happened.

A sudden, strange, and smelly fart escaped from me.

The sound was loud, unsettling, like a siren cutting through the moment. It echoed throughout the room and struck his face.

"Fuck"

I woke up suddenly.

My heart pounded as I gasped for air, clutching my gold handbag to my chest like it was my lifeline. The air smelled different now, too intense, too real, and my hands trembled.

Fear crept across my skin. What on earth had that dream been? It felt too real, too detailed.

It was my first night working at Sodom, the house of extreme pleasure, and that dream shook me to my core. Farting in a customer's face? The thought made my stomach churn.

Was it just my nerves, or was the universe warning me about what would happen if I sold my virginity for money?

A voice interrupted my thoughts.

"Are you ready?" asked the tall woman.

I nodded.

She owned Sodom. She was the one who brought in the wealthy clients, especially the CEOs. Everything here had rules: whispered, enforced tightly, and breaking them was never an option.

"You can't go dressed like that," she said, slowly looking me up and down with sharp, calculating eyes.

He clapped once.

A huge man walked in. My mind wandered for half a second, wondering just how huge he could be down there, before I pushed the thought away.

"Follow me," his deep voice echoed in my ears.

I obeyed, following him like a chick follows its mother.

The hallway took my breath away. Everywhere I looked was a pleasure zone. Men and women shamelessly doing things I couldn't even describe. Bodies intertwined, sounds filled the air. Pleasure in its purest form. I quickly stopped judging; I knew I would soon be part of it.

Me llevó a una pequeña habitación que apestaba a perfumes y aerosoles fuertes. El olor me golpeó con fuerza, colándose en mis fosas nasales como una niebla tóxica. Casi me ahogo. Había lencería colgada por todas partes, en cada rincón, en cada pared, en cada centímetro de espacio. La habitación era tan estrecha que apenas cabían dos personas dentro.

Tomé una de ellas, con los dedos temblando.

¿Era eso lencería o algo completamente diferente? Casi no había diferencia entre usar una de esas prendas y estar desnuda. Grité por lo bajo con disgusto.

"Date prisa, al jefe no le gustan las mujeres lentas", advirtió antes de marcharse, dejándome sola.

Miré mi reflejo en el espejo. Mis ojos brillaban intensamente bajo la luz parpadeante, llenos de miedo y determinación. No podía creer que estuviera allí. Pero no tenía elección. Era la única forma de pagar el tratamiento de mi madre.

Solo una noche con el multimillonario adecuado podría cambiar mi vida para siempre.

Me reí suavemente cuando el sueño volvió a cruzar mi mente.

"Los sueños realmente están locos", susurré.

Después de buscar, encontré un vestido azul. Me lo puse rápidamente. Me quedaba como si hubiera sido hecho para mí, excepto por mis pechos, que sobresalían tan descaradamente que parecía que iban a salirse. Aun así, era manejable.

Solo una noche, me recordé a mí misma, respirando profundamente para calmar mis nervios.

Cuando abrí la puerta, el mismo hombre estaba afuera como un guardia de seguridad.

"Tus compañeras están esperando", dijo.

Lo seguí otra vez. La habitación a la que entramos parecía un banquete: alimentos que nunca había visto ni probado cubrían las mesas. Había unas diez mujeres más allí, todas vestidas con lencería. Sabía por qué estaban allí.

La señora Pepero me sonrió cálidamente, ese tipo de sonrisa que seguía siendo suave incluso cuando la habitación se quedaba en silencio, incluso cuando todos los demás se tensaban.

"Demos la bienvenida a nuestra nueva integrante, Brianna", anunció.

Forcé una sonrisa. Las otras chicas no reaccionaron. Sus rostros estaban vacíos, inmóviles, como muñecas. Hipnotizadas.

"Aplaudan", gritó la señora Pepero.

El miedo recorrió mi espalda. Inmediatamente, las chicas aplaudieron y sonrieron.

Fue lo más escalofriante que había visto en mi vida.

"Las dejaré para que convivan y coman; luego nos prepararemos para irnos", dijo con una sonrisa vacía antes de alejarse.

Evité a las chicas y fui directamente al bar. Me tomé dos tragos rápidamente. Cuando una de ellas se acercó a mí, me alejé y fui al baño, sin darme cuenta de que alguien me seguía.

Cuando salí, ella estaba allí. "Mi nombre es Kira", susurró rápidamente, como si decirlo le costara algo.

Mi corazón golpeó contra mi pecho. Sus ojos hundidos e hinchados enviaron escalofríos por mi espalda.

"¿Qué haces aquí?" pregunté.

"You have to run while you still can, Miss Pepero is not who she seems to be, please run, she will make you do things you shouldn't do, she will take all your earnings and force you to travel everywhere to meet clients against your will. She is the devil," he cried.

He grabbed my hand.

I didn't believe him. Money clouded my judgment.

He rolled up his sleeves and all I saw were scars.

"Who did this to you?" I asked.

"Your client, they don't treat us like human beings. You're new, please leave," she said.

The door burst open.

"She's mentally unstable, she says strange things," the man said before others dragged her away.

I froze.

Was she mentally unstable and did she use SPF 50 to cause those scars?

Fear took deep root within me.

I got on the bus. Soft music played from invisible speakers, too calm for the way my chest was tightening.

Was he right?

The doors locked. The engine started on its own, steady and decisive, and the windows sealed with a muffled click.

And suddenly, running away no longer seemed like an option.

The bus lurched forward.

As I was about to sit down, my eyes caught something on the seat. A deep red stain glowed faintly in the dim light. My heart leapt. I stood motionless, my fingers hovering over it, my breath caught in my throat.

Cautiously, I touched it. Cold, sticky, and rough against my skin, sending a shiver down my arm. The scent hit me, and my stomach churned as my pulse quickened.

Is it wine... or could it be something else?

I withdrew my hand, pressing it against my chest, my heart pounding.

The bus felt heavier, quieter, the hum of the engine echoing in my ears.

What is this?