When money meets desire

It was a warm spring night in Bucharest.
I was the escort that only a few men could afford. He was the man who didn’t look at the price.
The message had come just three hours earlier:
“Presidential Suite, Hotel Athénée Palace. 11:00 p.m. 15,000 euros cash. I want to feel how money turns into pure desire on your body. No limits. No unnecessary words.”
I accepted.
When I entered the suite, the light was golden, intimate. He was sitting on the velvet sofa, a glass of cognac in his hand. The dark gray suit fit his tall, strong body like a glove. On the table next to him was a thick, open envelope. The bills were falling out easily, like an obscene invitation.
He didn’t say “hello.” He just stared at me for a long time, his dark eyes dark, then he spoke in a low, velvety voice:
— The money is already yours. Now I want to see what I'm buying.
I slowly approached. I let my coat fall from my shoulders, revealing my short, transparent dress that hid nothing. My breasts were clearly visible through the thin material, my nipples already hard.
He smiled slightly, almost cruelly.
— Take off your clothes. I want to see you naked next to my money.
I pulled the dress over my head and was left in only high heels and a tiny lace thong. I moved closer until I was between his knees. He took a handful of bills from the envelope and slowly ran them over my breasts. The cold, rough paper rubbed my nipples, sending a shiver straight down my legs.
— Do you feel it? he murmured. That's the sound of money wanting to possess you.
He let the bills fall onto my chest, then onto my stomach, until a few stuck to my already wet thong. He pulled the thong down with his teeth and began to lick me without warning.
His tongue was hot, greedy. He devoured me as if he were paying for every second of pleasure. Two thick fingers entered me deeply, curving exactly where they made me tremble. I moaned loudly, holding on to his shoulders. He accelerated, licking my clitoris with quick, precise movements, until the first orgasm hit me violently. I screamed, my legs shaking, as he continued to suck me, prolonging the pleasure until I began to beg with my eyes.
He didn't stop.
He lifted me like a feather, sat me on the table and unbuttoned my pants. His member was thick, long, the veins pulsating. The red, wet head was already glistening with pre-cum. He rubbed it against my wet sex, tormenting me, then entered me in one deep thrust, all the way.
I screamed with pleasure.
He began to take me hard, rhythmically, each stroke making me feel how he filled me completely. His hands squeezed my breasts, his thumbs playing with my sensitive nipples. The bills on the table crumpled under my back as he penetrated me deeper and deeper, more brutally.
— Tell me what you feel, he growled hoarsely.
— The money… and your cock… I moaned, lost.
He smiled with satisfaction and accelerated. He turned me onto my stomach, lifted my hips and entered me again, even deeper. The strokes were short and strong now, hitting me right in the G-spot. The second orgasm tore me apart. I cried out, my body contracting violently around him, my juice flowing down my thighs.
He let out an animalistic moan and poured into me – long, hot, pulsing deeply, filling me to the last drop. He continued to move slowly, prolonging the sensation as the crumpled money clung to our sweaty skin.
When he pulled away, he turned me to face him, kissed me deeply and whispered in my ear:
“That was only the first half of the money. The rest… you earn it by sunrise.”
I pressed myself against his chest, still trembling, the taste of him on my lips and the feeling of money and desire mixed throughout my body.
“Then… show me what desire looks like when the money never runs out.”