The Heiress Who Sold Her Soul

"Swallow it all, baby. Be my good girl," Carson groans, his grip tightening in my hair as I kneel between his legs in the Rolls-Royce.

I'm Leah Walker, once a Stanford-educated heiress, daughter of Bayford's mayor. But when my mom was framed and imprisoned by corrupt bastards like Matthew Cole, I lost everything. To survive and plot revenge, I became the city's most expensive call girl—gathering secrets, leverage, and cash from powerful men who thought they controlled me.

Now, with a fake pregnancy, a staged murder, and alliances forged in the shadows, I'm dismantling the Cole empire piece by piece. Carson, the clueless son, is my pawn; Ethan, the dangerous casino king, my unexpected ally. But as bodies drop and truths ignite, will my quest for vengeance consume me—or set me free? In this twisted game of sex, lies, and power, I'm nobody's whore anymore.

Leah's POV

People think high-end escorting is just about spreading your legs and faking moans. They're clueless. It's about intel. Power. Leverage. Every thrust, every whispered secret, every time these losers think they're owning me—I'm the one stripping them bare.

I'm Leah Walker. Dual PhDs from Stanford in Finance and Law. My mom was Bayford's mayor.

And I'm the priciest call girl in Norston.

Sounds insane, right? A political heiress with doctorates turning tricks in penthouse suites. But life hits hard—one bad court ruling can tank you. Bouncing back? That takes more than fancy degrees.

My rules: under thirty, net worth over ten mil, and no Coles. Ever.

The first two are smart business. The last? Personal vendetta.

Tonight's my swan song. Five years in, I've stacked enough cash. More importantly, I've lined up the perfect target.

"Baby, what's on your mind?" Carson's lips graze my ear, his big hands sliding over my bare waist.

Carson Cole. Twenty-seven, worth thirty mil, son of Bayford's new mayor, Matthew Cole. Handsome, loaded, and clueless as hell. He has no idea who I really am.

To him, I'm just some sweet thing he met online. Two months of chats, calls, video sessions. He's dropped three mil on me without even getting laid. The guy's been blue-balling himself, waiting like a puppy.

"I'm thinking..." I turn to him, faking shyness as I trace circles on his chest, "it's my birthday, and I'm kinda nervous..."

"I know, sweetheart." His eyes soften. "I'll be gentle."

Gentle? If he only knew I had another guy's dick pounding me senseless three hours ago.

I never shortchange a client.

"Do you think I'm being too forward? Meeting you like this on our first date..." I bite my lip, the picture of uncertainty.

"Never." He kisses my forehead. "I'm the one who should apologize. I should have taken you to dinner first, maybe a movie. But I couldn't wait anymore, Leah. I've been thinking about you every night for two months."

Thinking about me? Or thinking about fucking me?

Doesn't matter. After tonight, he'll be completely mine.

The birthday candles flicker on the nightstand. Carson tells me to make a wish. I close my eyes and make one: may every bastard who destroyed my mother burn in hell.

"What did you wish for?"

"Secret." I wink and grab my phone for a selfie.

Carson's hands immediately find my thighs, sliding under my silk nightgown to cup my ass. I can feel his cock hardening against my leg, thick and demanding.

"You're so hard," I whisper, letting genuine desire creep into my voice. "Does it hurt?"

"Do you want to help me?" His voice is rough with need.

I nod shyly, and he flips me onto my back.

Carson is gentle, just like he promised. Every touch is careful, reverent, like he's afraid of breaking me. He doesn't know I'm used to being manhandled by men twice his size. His tenderness feels like a massage compared to my usual clients.

But I play my part perfectly. Soft moans, little gasps of pain, clenching my thighs.

When he slides his cock inside me for the first time, I let out a genuine gasp. Not from pain – from how perfectly he fills me. His size is impressive, thick enough to stretch me just right.

"Am I hurting you?" he breathes against my neck.

"A little," I lie. "But don't stop."

He moves slowly, carefully, his cock sliding in and out with deliberate strokes. I wrap my legs around his waist and arch my back, letting him hit all the right spots. Despite everything, my body responds. My pussy grows wetter, hungrier.

"Fuck, you feel incredible," he groans.

An hour later, he's holding me close, whispering "I love you" in my ear.

Cute.

The next afternoon, I send Carson away and prepare for my final client.

Ethan Ray. Thirty-two, runs casinos. Well, more accurately, he controls the entire West Coast underground gambling network.

He's everything Carson isn't. Where Carson is sunshine and golden boy privilege, Ethan is darkness incarnate. Dangerous. Like a predator who could snap your neck without breaking a sweat.

"Last time?" He steps through the door, eyes scanning the room before settling on me.

"That's right." I nod. "Starting tomorrow, I'm a reformed good girl."

"Someone putting a ring on it?" His tone is mocking.

"Something like that."

Ethan laughs coldly, shrugging off his jacket. His body is a work of art – lean muscle, sharp definition. But it's his eyes that get me. Deep, calculating, like he can see straight through to your soul.

"Congratulations then." He stalks toward me. "But before you become some man's little housewife, I'm going to fuck you like the whore you are."

No foreplay. No sweet words. Ethan pins me to the bed and tears my panties clean off.

"Wait, I'm not ready—"

He's already inside me, thick and brutal, stretching me to my limits. My nails dig into the sheets as I adjust to his size and rhythm.

"Relax," he growls in my ear. "I know you can take it."

And I can. God help me, I can. Five years in this business, hundreds of clients, but Ethan is different. He fucks like he owns me, like my pleasure belongs to him.

He pounds into me relentlessly – bed to floor, bathroom counter to balcony. His cock hits places that make me see stars, and I hate how good it feels.

"Please," I gasp, voice hoarse. "Slower..."

"Too late, sweetheart." He bites my earlobe. "Since this is the last time, I want you to remember exactly how my cock feels inside you."

Jesus Christ, I regret taking this booking. My pussy is so sore I can barely think straight.

But I can't deny Ethan has what it takes to drive women insane. Sharp cheekbones, a jawline that could cut glass, those penetrating eyes, and a cock that knows exactly how to ruin me.

When I stare at him openly, appreciating the view, he gets hard again.

"What are you looking at?"

"Nothing... just thinking how gorgeous you are."

Something flickers in his expression before he flips me over and starts fucking me again.

Three hours later, Ethan finally shows mercy. I'm sprawled on the bed like roadkill while he showers.

When he's dressed and ready to leave, he turns back to me: "Get out of this life. I'll take care of you."

I nod sweetly, accepting the bank card he hands me.

"Thank you, Ethan."

"Take care of yourself." He kisses my forehead and leaves.

The moment he's gone, I check the account balance.

Five million dollars.

Holy shit. Best last client ever.

But I'm not going straight for Ethan. I'm getting out because I have enough money now. What I need next is power – the kind of status that gets me close to the bastards who destroyed my family.

Carson Cole is my golden ticket.

I can already taste the revenge. The conquest, the destruction, the hunt – just thinking about it makes my pulse race.

One week later, Bayford.

Carson picks me up at the airport, immediately pulling me into his car.

"I missed you so fucking much, baby." His kiss is hungry, desperate. Ever since that night in Norston, he's been a different man – no longer the shy boy but something needier, more demanding.

His hands are all over me, squeezing my tits through my dress.

"Carson, we can't... your father's birthday party..."

At the mention of his father, something dark flashes in his eyes. Trouble in paradise between father and son? Perfect.

"Fuck his birthday party." His voice is rough. "I need you right now."

His hand slides up my thigh, fingers teasing the edge of my panties.

"Carson, not here... not in the car..."

"Then help me out." He grabs my hand, pressing it against his hard cock straining against his pants. "Like you did before."

"I... I don't really know how..." I play innocent. "Could you teach me?"

Thirty minutes later, Carson is finally satisfied. I clean up with tissues and fix my makeup.

"We should go," I say.

Carson parks outside an imposing mansion. I step out of the car and my blood turns to ice.

Ethan Ray stands by the entrance in a black suit, that familiar predatory smile playing at his lips.

When our eyes meet, my world stops spinning.

"Miss Walker," he says slowly, each word a dagger aimed at my composure.