Breathless For The Billionaire

By Evelyn Rosado

Good evening ladies (and gentlemen)! I'm Evelyn. I'll be your pilot for the evening. Fasten your seat belt and enjoy the flight. Smoking IS NOT prohibited, for when this steamy flight is concluded, you may need a cigarette or two to relax!

This is your first flight? Well, allow me to spin a yarn about a friend of mine, Natasha Yancey:

Friday night. Ballroom. Charity auction.

Stir in one sexy black dress from a now maxed out credit card.

Pour in a few ladles of top shelf champagne flowing all night long.

Whisk one irresistible billionaire who’s had his eyes on her since she sat down.

…and what you get is one scintillating night of bad decisions and a morning full of head-spinning unanswered questions.

But what took place after was beyond Natasha's most insatiable desires. Just what exactly did billionaire Victor St. James have in store for her?

I hope you enjoy the flight. Please buckle up, as there may be a few twists and turns along the way. And if you experience any heavy breathing, please use the oxygen mask above. This flight may leave you…breathless.

This is Part One of the series!

This 23,000+ word erotic romance novella contains adult content! 18+ only!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Fade To Black Publishing Inc.
• Release date: Oct 2, 2014
• ISBN: 9781502240743

Evelyn Rosado

Evelyn Rosado has been many things (stripper, school teacher, debt collector), but writer of erotic tales was one she would have never imagined. She's always been a very sensual woman and wears her heart on her sleeve, so being an erotic author is sort of a natural transition for her. Well, her knowing a thing or two about naughtiness helps too! When she's not churning out scintillating tales, she's usually splitting poles on the sidewalk with friends, crossing the paths of black cats and walking under ladders.

Book preview

Men like him reminded me of two words – run away. More like three. Run away - fast.

When Victor St. James went on stage to claim his prize, his intentions were beyond clear. I’m going to fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before, he said whispering deep into my ear. The warmth and moistness of his breath enchanted me. His voice - velvety and smoldering - propelled a chill throughout my blistering veins.

Instantly, I was drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

But why did he choose me? There were a dozen girls ahead of me and his paddle didn’t raise once. Not a single time. He sat smack dead in the front row – it’s not like he didn’t see the other girls. I had to outweigh them by almost fifty pounds. All they did the entire night was sip lemon water and twist their forks in their salad.

Why me? They were much prettier than me and their dresses were more expensive and more stylish – with labels by designers I couldn’t pronounce. I agonized over the moment my name was to be called. I stuck out like a sore thumb among those girls. Just my luck, my name would be called last. Why me? Did they pity me? If they did, they would have called my name first. Maybe they were making fun of me.

It was too late to run. When I heard my name called, I prayed I didn’t trip up the steps; my knees knocked that severely. The lights were so bright they blinded me. All I saw was the sparkle from half empty champagne glasses and expensive diamonds. The lump in my throat grew by the second. The lady with the microphone began the bidding at ten thousand dollars.

Dead silence. I stood on that stage feeling about two inches tall.

I just knew no one would bid on me – even if we all were there for charity.

Then he raised his paddle, saving me from any more humiliation. There weren’t any other bidders. Sold to Vincent St. James for ten thousand dollars, the host said. The room rang in applause and I exhaled a huge sigh of relief. Mr. St. James, come and claim your prize.

I quickly regained my senses after Mr. St. James uttered those words to me. I didn’t know whether to feel insulted or turned on by what he said. Who did this man think he was? Should I have slapped him in front of everyone or spread my legs eagle for him? The boldness of this man.

I didn’t care how much money he had or how attractive he was. I just didn’t sleep with strange men after mere minutes of meeting them...anymore. I could tell he was a man who hadn’t heard the word no since the age of twelve. Unphased on the outside, I kept showing the audience my pearly whites.

As we walked off hand in hand, I looked behind me to see if my pussy hadn’t dripped a trail on the stage of the ballroom. This had to be a practical joke I thought, but as we sauntered backstage, I didn’t see any flashbulbs, video cameras or microphones. Joke or not; he was very convincing. And it made my pussy hot as a firecracker.

Go to the bar. Order one drink. I’ll send for you in twenty, he said as we stood backstage between the darkness of the curtains. His domineering voice made you want to do anything he said or if it came down to it, bend to his will. I obeyed his order. What was I to say - no? I was his date for the night. How many times in my life would I be able to look back and say I was a billionaire’s date?

I waited at the bar for an hour. The condensation from my whiskey sour formed a small pond on the bar top. I took another sip. By now the smoky, auburn liquid had lightened from the ice melting in the glass. A drop of water spilled off the bottom onto my thigh. I jumped from the surprise.

The situation floored me. Maybe because he knew all the other men picked the rail-thin model types and just didn’t want me to feel the agony of standing there in the silence with no one bidding on me. Or maybe he was interested. His eyes had been on me all night. Up and down my legs. At my breasts. At my lips. He looked at me as if I was his unknowing target on the jungle floor and he was ready for my flesh to be between his teeth. I looked behind me to see if someone was behind me. I sat closest to the wall - there was no one except me.

He was Victor St. James - the man of the hour. His charity co-hosted the fundraiser auction. I had no business being there if Chandra hadn’t asked me to take her place – she had the tickets and couldn’t make it at the last minute. She said something came up. Perks of being the lifestyle editor of a local, trendy magazine I guess. I didn’t want to go, but it was time for me to return the favor of her watching my dogs when I was away in Aruba for ten days.

A gentle hand came upon on the contour of my lower back. Mr. St. James is ready to see you now Miss Yancey, the gentlemen said.

That was the moment my heart drummed like a piston about to blow. Each step towards the lobby caused my breath to stifle. The logical side of me said I was a fool for meeting a man whose first words to me were about what he wanted to do to me sexually. The other side...well...the other side of me wanted to find out if he would live up to what he said. My bed had been ice cold for weeks.

This was crazy. I didn’t care if it was for charity. Who talks to someone like that? This wasn’t the movies. This was a mistake, but why were my legs continuing to move towards him?

He stood at the elevator. His hands clasped when he saw me, making a loud slap. He stood over six feet tall. His broad shoulders and thin waist formed a v-shape in his tuxedo. His jaws and mouth were speckled with brown hair. His hair was trimmed to a close-crop – an irresistible shade of bistre.

I sauntered towards him. He moistened his lips with his tongue. His lips – unforgivable. His smile – dangerously alluring. He was dressed impeccably, tailored to capital T. Clad in a slim European-cut black tuxedo and cufflinks that shined so bright they would make a blind man turn away. He looked fresh from photo shoot from an international men’s fashion magazine. His gorgeous exterior intimidated me.

His sugar-brown eyes scanned me from the loose strands of hair