Life sucks.

Life has always sucked for me, but I’ve always thought there were some things I wouldn’t do. Ever.

Like prostitution, for example.

I struggled through nursing school, supporting myself with two, three jobs at a time. I’m always working, even now.

I know a girl who works at a strip club, but I’ve always thought I’d rather work my ass off than ever take my clothes off just so older men with beer guts can slip dollar bills into my thong to survive their mid-life crises. It never even occurred to me to sell my body, to let some perv fuck me—all for money.

I’d never sink that low, I thought.

But that younger, more naïve version of me also never expected to be in such deep shit. How did I get myself into this kind of trouble?

I’m a good girl. I studied hard in school. I’ve always worked hard. I’ve done everything I’m supposed to do.

Yet here I am, in the office of a wealthy older businessman, reviewing the contract that spells out all the terms of conditions of the sale of my virginity.

That’s right, I’m not just selling sex like a common street whore. I’m selling my virginity.

I keep going back and forth on whether virginity is a big deal.

On one hand, working in the medical field, I know it’s not even a thing—a hymen, I mean. It’s just a membrane that may or may not be there in a vagina. Some women don’t even have hymens at birth!

On the other hand, this will be the first time I have sex.

This will go down in my sexual history as The First Time. If someone, twenty years from now, wants to know the story of my First Time, I’d instantly remember this dark time in my life, cringe, and tell a fake story about some football jock and the bleachers under the stars.

This will set the expectations for my future partners. When I lie awake at night with longing between my legs, it will be Caine Foster’s body in my imagination. His tall, sturdy body, his blue eyes looking sternly into my eyes, his thrilling whispers in my ear, and… And his cock.

Before the end of the night, I may see a cock in real life. A real, hard, threatening specimen.

I mean, of course I’ve seen penises—in medical settings, as part of my job—but those don’t count. And sometimes Katie shows me the dick pics that guys send her, but I always find them gross.

This is Caine Foster, though. He’s different.

As much as I try to tell myself I’m just a good medical practitioner who’s always curious about the human body, I’m never convincing enough. The tingles in my core, whenever I think about what he’s packing, tell me I expect more than intellectual stimulation from whatever’s dangling between his legs.

“Mr. Foster will be here in a minute,” says a voice behind me.

I jump from surprise and look over my shoulder. Oh, it’s the assistant. Damn, she’s as quiet as a mouse.

She’s still looking at me like she wants to stab me with the thin ends of her many hairpins. I wonder how many cans of hairspray she wastes making that brown thing on her head so big and stiff.

“Thank you,” I say with a polite smile.

I don’t remember her name. I wonder how much she knows about me. Does she know I’m about to sell my virginity to her boss? Is that why she’s so sour? She nods and closes the door before I can figure her out.

It doesn’t take long for Caine to arrive. I feel him before I hear him. Feel his energy, that is. He has this quality about him. He has a big presence that fills a room the moment he walks in.

He takes his seat in the big leather chair in front of me. Without even saying a word, he exudes power, confidence, authority. His dark designer suit, his arrogant smirk, the San Francisco skyline seen through the tall glass windows behind him…

Caine Foster belongs on a movie poster. With his wealth, his looks, his life, what is he doing with me?

Even though I still feel conflicted about this whole deal, I’m definitely not walking out before I sign that contract.

I’m not letting go of $250,000 just because this hurts my feelings. My feelings aren’t worth $250,000. The $250,000 that’s going to pay off all my loans, get Jack through college, and finally get me on the right path for the rest of my life.

I’m sure I’ll have some money left over for therapy to deal with the trauma of the next thirty days or, failing that, some hundred-dollar-bills to wipe my tears with.

For now, all I have to do is get through this.

“Daisy.” Caine says my name like it amuses him. His eyes twinkle and the skin around them creases a little. He smiles, which sends a chill down my spine.

“Hi, Caine.”

God, what a lame thing to say.

“I trust you’ve reviewed the contract?” His voice is deep and inviting, his blue eyes gleaming with victory.

“Yes.” Maybe I should keep my sentences short so I don’t accidentally say something he can use against me.

“Have you filled out the blank parts?”

“Yes.” It took me a while; I even had to Google some words, but I managed to finish it.

“May I have a look at it?”

I look at the pieces of paper held together by a silver paper clip at the corner. I take a deep breath, then I slide it over to Caine’s side of the table. I feel like I’m handing in my exam papers, like I’m rethinking my answers and wanting to change all of them but there’s no more time left.

He flips through the pages with a smile on his face. I wonder if I’ve agreed too easily to his terms. Maybe I could’ve said no to more things on his endless lists of sexual acts and kinks. Maybe I could’ve asked for more money—it was weird how quickly he agreed to my 150% pay raise last night.

To be honest, though, I’m quite relieved that he doesn’t just tell me what he wants and expects me to give it to him.

He has way more bargaining power here. I’m sure there are thousands of girls in the downtown area alone who’d fuck Caine Foster for $100,000.

If this deal falls through, I don’t have thousands of other billionaires waving a quarter of a million dollars in my face. There’s no other way for me to get that kind of money. Literally.

Unless… Unless I risk my life smuggling drugs or something equally dangerous. But if I die, then who’ll take care of Jack? At least I’ll come back from this alive.

“Good,” Caine says. He’s already devouring me with his eyes, looking at me like he wants to eat me alive. “We’ll just quickly go over the main points so we’re both on the same page. Let’s not get too much into the details, though. Legal documents are such a chore to get through, and we both have better things to do tonight.”

I look away, for a split second, from his piercing gaze when I realize what he means by “better things to do.” When I meet his eyes again, he’s chuckling, obviously having caught my instant reaction.

“Okay,” I say as nonchalantly as possible.

“This agreement, right after we sign it, will start a 24/7 arrangement for thirty days. You’ll live with me in my apartment and you won’t be allowed to leave the premises without my express permission. There won’t be any penetration without your verbal consent, and you can end a session at any time by saying the magic word, which is…?”

I take a deep breath and say, “Money.”

“That’s right. Money.” He grins from ear to ear.

God, I hate the safe word. I imagine myself in some compromising situation with Caine, having to say the safe word that reminds myself of this filthy deal we’re making.

“I’ll send you half of the money right after we sign the contract and I’ll also let Dr. Pratt know you won’t be working,” he says.

“Are you really going to tell Dr. Pratt I’m going on a vacation?”

That excuse is thinner than Keira Knightly, and I don’t think he’s going to buy it. It also makes me look unprofessional. I’ve been thinking all day, trying to come up with a more believable excuse that I can tell everyone—not just Dr. Pratt.

Luckily, Katie doesn’t need a solid reason to help me out. She’s agreed to look after Jack while I’m away, even though I haven’t told her any details. All she knows is I’m leaving to fix this problem in some way and I’m coming back in one month.

“No,” Caine says, amusement dancing in his deep blue eyes. “I’ll tell him I’m hiring you to take care of my father.”

“Oh.” I didn’t expect that. That’s actually a really good excuse. Why didn’t I think of it myself?

Casually, like the papers in front of him are just like the other contracts he signs all day, Caine grabs a fountain pen and writes his signature on a few spots in the contract.

Without a word, but with a big smile on his face, he slides the contract back toward me, with the fountain pen on top this time.

I manage to sign the document, even though my hand is shaking. I don’t even have to look up to know Caine is studying my every move intently.

“Good girl,” he says when I’m done. He gives me a big, approving smile, which annoys me and almost makes me feel proud for some strange reason.

Caine turns toward his computer and clicks around with his mouse. “I’ve prepared the money transfer and the email draft for Dr. Pratt. Give me a few seconds to finish up. You’ll see the money in your bank account tomorrow morning. As soon as you get it, the clock starts. For tonight, we’ll just have supper and go to sleep.”

“Okay,” I say.

Now I’m feeling like I’m falling again. I had a plan when I walked into this office, and the plan was to get the contract signed. I have no idea what to do now that it’s done, and it terrifies me that Caine has even thought of the smallest little detail, like what we’re going to do for the rest of the night.

“Let’s go,” Caine says when he’s done working on his computer.

He picks up my overnight bag like it weighs nothing and walks out of the office, certain I’m following behind him.

Looking at Caine’s broad shoulders and back, again I find myself admiring the way he moves, the casual grace of his gait, the deadly purpose in his every step.

I remember now why I don’t want to get close to him, even though he makes my body yearn for something I don’t even know. There’s something dangerous about him. The way he wants me, the way he looks at me like he already owns me…

Caine yanks me out of my comfort zone and flips my world upside down. What used to be impossible becomes possible. What used to be unthinkable is now about to happen for real.

I’m afraid of where he’s going to take me next. I have a feeling I won’t stay the same me at the end of this month, and that terrifies me. I want, so much, for this to be a straight business transaction—money for sex—but I feel like he wants more from me. I just don’t know what it is.

Something dark within him wants to hurt me, to inflict pain on me, to mark me permanently in some way. It scares me and excites me at the same time.

Thirty days from now, I’m going to be a different person. He’ll make sure of that before he lets me walk away. I know that now.