로그인She chuckled, her eyes twinkling. "I’m sure we can. Don’t forget you’re in the right place."
I returned her smile. “I think one of your girls will keep me busy for the night.” Her brows lifted with intrigue. “Alright then, don’t worry. I’ll make the arrangements. You can go to your room" But I shook my head lightly, cutting her off. “Actually…” I trailed off, glancing past her. “I think I’ve already found the one I want to spend the night with.” She followed my gaze as I subtly nodded in the direction of the bar, where the girl was attending to a customer with soft movements and a calm presence. “Her.” Madam Rose turned slightly, eyes narrowing toward the girl. “Oh! You mean Kayla?” I gave a small nod, my voice low. “I don’t know her name,” I admitted, watching the curve of Kayla’s back as she walked away. “But I want to spend the night with her.” Madam Rose smirked, her eyes gleaming as she had just won a bet. “I think she’ll be perfect,” she said. “I’ll handle everything.” And she did so swiftly; within a minute, everything was arranged. I made my way to the room, with dim lighting. The faint scent of perfume clung to the upholstery. I collapsed onto one of the couches and leaned back, the soft cushions doing little to ease the weight pressing down on my chest. My phone buzzed in my pocket, and her name lit up the screen. My little girl. I swiped to answer. “Princess,” I said softly. “Daddy! How are you? How’s work? You’re not home yet.” That voice. It squeezed something in me. “EM, sweetheart,” I chuckled, forcing a lightness I didn’t feel, “can you let me answer one question at a time?” She giggled. “I’m good,” I continued. Then paused. The lie formed too easily. “But… I’m sorry, princess. I won’t be coming home tonight. Some work came up. So please go to bed early, okay?” There was a short silence on the line. I hated that silence more than anything. It always meant she was disappointed but trying not to show it. “Okay, Daddy,” she said at last, her voice smaller. “I’ll tell Mr. Hops you’re working late.” Mr. Hops. Her stuffed bunny. I closed my eyes and sighed. “Give him a hug for me, yeah?” “Okay. I love you, Daddy.” “I love you more, princess.” The call ended, but the ache lingered. I stared at the ceiling for a long time, the silence in the room so loud it hurt. And somewhere beyond the door, a woman I barely knew was getting ready to offer me the comfort I deserve. The moment was shattered as the door creaked open behind me. Kayla walked in. Her presence was quiet, almost ghostlike. But everything about her demanded attention the way that silky nightgown wrapped around her like it had been poured onto her skin, the way her hair tumbled messily down her shoulders. She looked nothing like the woman who’d approached me earlier tonight with calm detachment. And yet, she looked exactly the same. Still, I didn’t speak. And neither did she. I placed my phone gently on the side drawer as if it were made of glass, then stood. My limbs moved on their own, heavy but determined, guided by something numb and primal. Without another glance at her, I headed into the bathroom. The sound of the shower echoed seconds later steady, hypnotic. The water burned against my skin, but I welcomed it. I needed it. I wanted it to peel away the ache in my chest, wash off the guilt that clung to me like sweat. When I stepped out of the bathroom, my skin was still dripping, my body bare. The vodka I’d downed earlier was no longer just humming through me, it was in full control now, muffling my conscience, numbing everything that made sense. She was still there. Sitting at the edge of the bed. Motionless. Her gaze was fixed on the floor as if it held the answers to a life she couldn’t escape. Kayla POV I sat at the edge of the bed, my fingers knotted together in my lap, eyes fixed on the floor as it could somehow offer me answers I wasn’t brave enough to ask for. The silence was thick, suffocating. My mind was a whirlwind, but I kept my face composed until he came closer. I felt him before I saw him. The heat of his presence, the quiet urgency in his footsteps. Then, without a word, he cupped my face gently and crashed his lips into mine. My heart stuttered. The kiss was deep, hungry like a starved lion finally tasting its prey. I didn’t resist. My hands found his chest, then his shoulders. Clutching him as I needed him so badly. I kissed him back, matching his urgency with equal need. Our breath tangled, as if oxygen itself had become a luxury. Until he finally pulled away, his gaze burned into mine. “What’s wrong with me?” I murmured, to myself. “It’s been so long since I felt this way, since I felt a kiss like this. My stomach twisted. He stared at me for what felt like forever, eyes still searching mine, as though trying to read some truth I hadn’t spoken aloud. And then slowly he reached for the strap of my gown and began to undress it. I shut my eyes tightly, my breath hitching. He cupped my face and kissed me once more. I didn’t know what it was about his kiss, but it had a way of unraveling me. It wasn’t rushed, it was deep. Like he was searching for something in the way our mouths moved together. When his tongue slid into my mouth, I didn’t hesitate. I responded before I could even think, grabbing onto him, my fingers digging into his skin as if he were the only solid thing left in my life. His lips trailed lower, down my neck, slow and tender, and I arched beneath him without meaning to. My body responded as it knew him, like it wanted more. And when his lips finally found my breasts, and his hand moved across my skin with this unspoken gentleness, a soft gasp escaped me. I’d been touched before too many times. I’d been undressed, handled. But this felt different. There was something deeper in his touch, something that didn’t feel like lust or power or entitlement. It felt like something I’d never had. I closed my eyes, letting the sensation pull me somewhere warmer, somewhere far from the cold transactions I was used to. I trembled under him not just from need but from the terrifying realization that I didn’t want this to be another job.I stepped out of the cab, tossed a few crumpled bills at the driver, and slammed the door behind me. The gate creaked as I pushed it open, and I dragged my feet toward my apartment, every step heavier than the last. “Hey, sis!” Amaya called from the doorway, her usual too-cheerful tone scraping my nerves. She leaned in to kiss my cheek. I jerked back. “Back off,” I muttered without looking at her. Her smile faltered, but she didn’t say anything. She never did anymore. She was used to this version of me. I walked past her and headed straight to the kitchen. My throat was dry, raw from holding back too many words I never got to scream. I opened the fridge and grabbed the coldest bottle I could find. The chill bit into my palm, grounding me for a second. Amaya hovered nearby, silent. I poured the water into a glass and drank like I hadn’t had a drop in days. The coolness slid down my throat, but it did nothing to quench the fire that burned beneath my skin. I could feel her watchi
Who in their right mind would want a bar waitress, a sex worker to act as a mother figure, even if it is just for a day? It sounded like a twisted joke. “I…” I stammered, feeling the ground tilt beneath me. “Why me? Why would you want me to be a mom to your daughter?” My voice cracked on the word “mom.” I wasn’t even sure what shocked me the most, finding out he had a child, or that he wants me to pretend to be a Mom to his child. "I just want you to be a mom to my daughter." He repeated it, like it was nothing. Like he was asking me to hand him a napkin or lend him a cigarette. But I knew better. There was something behind his words. Something he was hiding. A chill crawled up my spine. What if he wants to hurt me? "I'm not interested," I said firmly, my voice sharp with finality. I turned on my heel, went to grab my earrings, which I had left earlier in the bathroom. When I stepped out of the bathroom, I wasn't surprised to find the creepy man had left. I grabbed my bag an
But then He stopped. He just stopped. He rolled away from me, onto his back, lying flat at the edge of the bed. The silence that followed was unbearable. I stayed still, stunned. My heart thudded in my chest as my thoughts spun with panic. Why did he stop? Did I do something wrong? Did he see through me? Did he sense the hesitation I tried to hide, the shame I couldn't scrub off no matter how many times I played pretend? Maybe he could feel that I wasn't used to being touched as I mattered. The minutes ticked by, thick and heavy. An hour passed, maybe more. I kept my eyes on the ceiling, afraid to move, afraid to breathe too loudly. He didn’t say a word. Just when I started to believe he’d fallen asleep, his arm reached out and wrapped around my waist. He pulled me into him, his chest warm against my back. “Just sleep,” he whispered, his voice like gravel in the dark. “I don’t think I want to have sex with you.” My heart cracked. The words weren’t cruel, but they lande
She chuckled, her eyes twinkling. "I’m sure we can. Don’t forget you’re in the right place." I returned her smile. “I think one of your girls will keep me busy for the night.” Her brows lifted with intrigue. “Alright then, don’t worry. I’ll make the arrangements. You can go to your room" But I shook my head lightly, cutting her off. “Actually…” I trailed off, glancing past her. “I think I’ve already found the one I want to spend the night with.” She followed my gaze as I subtly nodded in the direction of the bar, where the girl was attending to a customer with soft movements and a calm presence. “Her.” Madam Rose turned slightly, eyes narrowing toward the girl. “Oh! You mean Kayla?” I gave a small nod, my voice low. “I don’t know her name,” I admitted, watching the curve of Kayla’s back as she walked away. “But I want to spend the night with her.” Madam Rose smirked, her eyes gleaming as she had just won a bet. “I think she’ll be perfect,” she said. “I’ll handle everything.
Damien Cole POV. The sharp scent of antiseptic clung to the air, laced with the faint metallic tang of blood. The operating room was cold and sterile, like everything else in my life lately. I stepped away from the surgical table, my limbs dragging with exhaustion. The heart transplant had been a success, but it had drained every last drop of energy from me. Six straight hours, every second spent dancing on the edge between life and death. That’s what I do to pull people back from the edge. Even when I’m the one hanging off it. My hands were shaking as I peeled off my gloves. The adrenaline was still buzzing in my veins, refusing to let me rest. I wanted to feel triumphant. Relief. But lately, the victories have felt hollow. I tossed the gloves and scrubs into the bin and splashed cold water onto my face. The shock of it stung, but it was the only thing that felt real. Gripping the sides of the sink, I leaned in and stared at my reflection. The man in the mirror barely looke







