The room was bathed in bright lights, making her feel uncomfortably exposed.
She wished they were on the bed instead, even if it meant enduring pain.
But resisting him was futile.
She was Marcusâ first, a fact he took great pride in, especially considering his lack of experience in his younger, more vivacious days.
Marcus wasnât typically interested in exploring a womanâs body, but Melissa was an exception.
Despite her cries and his soothing words, he insisted on having his way.
In the lavish suite, their figures were disheveled.
Melissa, her arms wrapped around his neck, whispered urgently, urging him to hasten their encounter.
She feared Sylviaâs arrival since she had the key card to the suite.
The thought of Sylvia catching them filled Melissa with unbearable embarrassment.
Marcus found Melissaâs fear amusing.
He wasnât unkind, just fond of teasing her.
The feast on the table was forgotten as Melissa lay on the dark green tablecloth, her delicate form contrasting sharply with its rich hue.
Marcus ki*sed her gently, his voice a comforting murmur.
âDonât worry.
I just want to see.
â
Melissaâs tears flowed freely.
She knew Marcus wasnât perfect, and his request bothered her, yet she couldnât help but still feel drawn to him.
She berated herself, feeling inadequate.
In those moments of embarrassment, her tears would break through as she exclaimed, âI canât do this with you anymore.
Marcus, you jerk.
You pervert.
In the heat of the moment, these words were spoken
in anger.
They were meant to spice things up.
Most men wouldnât take them seriously enough to stop.
An hour later, her crying became so intense that Marcus had to carry her to the bedroom and they continued their intimate encounter⦠The afternoon sunlight streamed into the bedroom, casting a warm glow.
As evening approached, Sylvia, with a gentle tap of the room key card, entered.
She brought a change of clothes for Marcus and several outfits for women, along with some health tonics.
Melissa appeared delicate, and Sylvia worried about her ability to withstand Marcusâ intensity.
Upon entering the suite, Sylvia noticed its eerie silence.
The dining area was a mess.
A light gray shirt lay crumpled on the carpet, its fine fabric now resembling a rag.
Sylvia recognized it as a high-end brand, now reduced to a wrinkled state.
And the tablecloth didnât look good either.