Becoming His Expensive Plaything (7/12)

Jacob had started going back to Victor’s place more often than he ever planned. At first, it was just once a week—always for the money, always reminding himself it was temporary. But now… it was hard to say exactly when it had shifted. When the nerves faded into routine. When slipping into high heels stopped being humiliating and started feeling familiar. He found himself showing up every few days, already dressed, already shaved, his lips painted, lashes curled, curls bouncing as he walked.

And after that first kiss, things always ended the same way.

Every visit ended with one.

Sometimes more than one...

Jacob told himself he didn’t enjoy them—of course he didn’t. He just went along with it because it’s what Victor expected now. That was all. It was easier that way. Easier to stop thinking, to let his lips part, to let that quiet moan slip free without asking why it felt so natural. Easier to smile at the end and murmur “See you soon” with his lip gloss still warm from Victor’s kiss.

Eventually, it just became too much effort to change back. That’s what he told himself. With his blonde hair, manicured nails, and perfectly arched brows, going out as Jacob only drew attention—uncomfortable stares, quiet confusion, second glances that made his skin crawl. But as Samantha? No one looked twice. He didn’t like dressing up. It wasn’t about that.

It was practical. Not enjoyable. Not who he was supposed to be.

Just… practical.

That’s what Samantha told herself.

She adjusted the neckline of her sheer puff-sleeved top as she strutted up Victor’s driveway, the tight black leather pants hugging her hips, heels clicking confidently with each step. Her long blonde hair framed her face in perfect waves, her pink lips slightly parted in anticipation, her eyes subtly lined to enhance their flirtatious shimmer.

She felt something flutter in her stomach and quickly ignored it.

Victor opened the door, smiling that slow, knowing smile he always wore when he saw her. Before Samantha could even say a word, his hand was on her waist, pulling her in for a kiss—confident, steady, and familiar. Her lips parted without hesitation, returning it softly as her cheeks flushed just slightly. Then, without a word, he laced his fingers through hers—her perfectly manicured hand looking so dainty in his—and led her inside.

Another movie night.

He picked another romance—one of those movies. The kind Samantha was quickly beginning to enjoy, though she’d never admit it out loud. She nestled into his side as the opening credits rolled, letting out a soft sigh without even thinking. His arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer. She could feel his hand slowly roam over her body, fingers pressing into the taut leather clinging to her thighs. She whimpered softly before catching herself, eyes flicking back to the screen as if it was the movie that was getting her all flushed.

Near the end of the movie, the couple on screen leaned in for a kiss—slow, tender, aching with longing. Samantha felt her whole body go warm. Her thighs pressed together, her breath catching as her eyes flicked up at Victor. He was already looking at her. Their faces were so close. She swallowed, lips parting slightly, then nervously puckered—just the smallest invitation.

Victor didn’t hesitate.

His lips were hot, hungry—tongue slipping deep into her mouth as she whimpered against him. The kiss was messy, intense, needy, and Samantha melted. Her fingers clutched at his chest as her body pressed to his, moaning softly as he devoured her. Her thighs squeezed together, toes curling in her heels, lipstick smearing across both their mouths.

The movie played on, but Samantha wasn’t watching anymore.

When the night ended, Victor handed her the usual envelope—thick, crisp bills inside. Samantha took it with a practiced smile, slinging her purse over her shoulder and adjusting her top. As she stepped into the night, heels tapping softly on the pavement, she let out a breath.

She told herself the kiss was just part of the act—something Victor expected. A little performance to keep him interested. It didn’t mean anything.

Even if her body still hummed from his touch.

Even if she was already thinking about what he might want next.

She bit her lip without thinking, eyes low, cheeks flushed.