Owned by the Playboy: Owned, #1

By Jayne Blue

Owned by the Playboy --- Book #1 in the Owned. Series

Meet Nina Sharpe, pleasure is about to become her business… 

The wheels came off my life slowly at first. This is saying something, because they weren’t screwed on all that tight to begin with. But, I was way too smart to still be this poor and now I had a chance to do something about it. 

I told myself all these things as I sat in the back of a stretch limousine. Just outside the car door was an unassuming bungalow painted yellow. I was here for work. A probationary assignment of sorts. Once the car door opened, the rest of my life would start. 

A man and my future waited for me somewhere inside that house, beyond the front door painted in festive red. Scarlet. A fitting color for what he wanted. For twelve hours and $100,000 he would own me. 

Just one night for a small fortune that would change my life forever, if I had the courage to walk through that red door…. 

This is my story. Don't try this at home. 

Owned by the Playboy is the first book in the sexy, sensual, often humorous adventures of call girl, Nina Sharpe.

NOTE: This book was previously published as "The Offer,"  and "The Mogul" Book One in the Call Girl, Inc. Series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jayne Blue
• Release date: Apr 18, 2015
• ISBN: 9781513029047

Book preview

Prologue

Iwas 35 years old before I learned that the one thing I'm phenomenally good at is sex. I do plenty of other things reasonably well. I play the piano. I sing. I beat out 27 other girls to play Adelaide in my high school production of Guys and Dolls . Up until a few months ago, I'd made a killing in real estate with one of the largest high-end agencies in the D. C. area. For all of that, I'd grade myself a low B. When it comes to foreplay, though, I'm like the Steve Jobs of blow jobs…always looking to innovate.

I told myself all these things as I sat in the back of a stretch limousine. Just outside the car door was an unassuming bungalow painted yellow. It was a charming little house nestled in a wooded area just outside of Georgetown. I was here for work. A probationary assignment, of sorts. Once the car door opened, the rest of my life would start.

A man and my future waited for me somewhere inside that house, beyond the front door painted in festive red. Scarlet. A fitting color for what he wanted. For twelve hours and $100,000 he would own every naked inch of me.

Just one night for a small fortune would change my life forever, if I had the courage to walk through that red door….

Part I

Chapter 1

The wheels came off my life slowly at first. This is saying something, because they weren’t screwed on all that tight to begin with. Daddy left after my tenth birthday, tired of watching my mother drink and spend every penny he earned. She took up with a string of bad boyfriends. The last one was particularly bad. I was about sixteen when I woke up to a drunken Uncle Carl in my bed with one hand groping my breast and the other tugging down my underwear.

I elbowed him so hard in the face that his nose broke, and I chalked it up to one of the two useful things my real dad ever taught me before he left. Nina, he’d said, If you're ever in a fight, try to get at least one good shot right on the nose. You can end it right there. For a while, it did.

We reached an uneasy peace after that. Carl stared, but he didn’t try to touch me. My mom made excuses and I thought I’d neutralized him. But just before my eighteenth birthday, Carl tried to move on to my fourteen-year-old baby sister, Natalie. When I caught him in her bed, I used the other useful thing my dad taught me...how to swing a baseball bat.

I packed Carl’s bags and threw them to the curb. Carl followed. My mother repaid me by throwing me out. Unable to live without him, she disappeared after him. From then on, I supported Natalie and myself with the substantial waitressing tips I earned at the local bikini sports bar, Natalie’s babysitting money, and my mom’s Social Security disability checks that kept coming to the house, even though she never did.

Fast-forward seventeen years. I thought I’d finally left those scratch-and-claw days behind. Slowly, after years of persistence and paying attention, I went from selling drinks to selling million-dollar homes. Starting out small, I got my real estate license and struck out on my own. Impressed with my work, another agent I knew asked me to join his brokerage. From there, I moved to an even bigger brokerage and finally landed at the Lindbergh Group, one of the premier agencies in the D.C. area. In the middle of all that, I found a decent guy who I thought I could share my life with.

Brad and I got married five years ago. He was kind and smart and never yelled if I occasionally backed the car into the neighbor’s mailbox. He would just go to Home Depot and build a new one knowing the bedroom coupons he earned would more than make up for the couch time it cost him. And that’s my little piece of marital advice for anyone who asks. If you find a good partner, say yes to everything he wants in that bed. Every. Thing.

Great sex really does fix a lot – but unfortunately, not everything.

After all that time, I could have forgiven Brad when I found out what he’d been doing since his layoff. I could have forgiven him if he’d had an affair, I think. But the credit card companies started calling. Brad had destroyed my hard-won financial security in less than a year. Brad’s mistress was pool and online poker. He wiped out our savings, and we had a $300,000 overdue balance on our Visa.

Even after that, I tried. I went to meetings with him and he promised to follow the program and quit. I’m not one to bail at the first sign of trouble, or the second. After the third relapse, I knew I was the one who needed to cash in her chips.

He spoke his latest apology into my lap one night as I held a stack of delinquent credit card bills. Please, Nina. I can make it back. I just need one really good streak. Then I’m done. I swear.

But he wasn't done. Maybe he never would be. I’d be damned if I let him drag me down with him any further. For me, the sound of the end of my marriage was the rattle of falling paper as the bills hit the floor.

I know, baby. I stroked the top of his head. I know you will. I was lying. I went to bed that night knowing it was the last one we'd ever spend together. When Brad was sound asleep, I packed my bags with the same steely purpose as I’d packed Uncle Carl's all those years before. Once I made up my mind to leave for good, every other decision came easy. I crammed my essentials into two suitcases and my purse and quietly carried everything down to my car.

We shared a carport with the tenant in the other half of our duplex. Mrs. Nordhaus. I could usually find her peeking out of her bedroom window whenever I came down to the carport. Now, there was no sign of her. Except for the bark of a neighbor’s dog a few doors down, things were calm. The warm air smelled sweet with a cool breeze blowing in.

I’d miss the place. We were on a lazy side street off the main drag in Ballston. After a client passed on it last year, I made an offer on it myself. I fought hard to earn a place like this. Now I would lose it.

I’d use part of my last chunk of cash to pay the next three months’ rent on the duplex. Brad could stay, but I was heading to my sister’s in Arlington in the morning. I wrote a short but detailed Dear John letter and left it in his car. He wouldn't find it until after I left.

I still loved Brad. Really, I did. But one more argument filled with false promises and I knew I might start to hate him. I needed to get out clean. That's how you survive hard things. Keep moving forward.

I slipped back into bed with Brad and watched him. Sleeping like this, with the weight of our reality temporarily out of his thoughts, Brad looked just like the eager grad student I’d met in a bar years ago. With his unruly blond curls and dimples in his cheeks, he’d had a young Robert Redford quality about him. He’d asked to walk me back to my apartment after his blind date stood him up and my date threw up in his own shoes. We stayed up late on my couch watching 80’s movies. I let him get to second base, then third. He kissed me senseless, and I ended up letting him slide into home.

Resigned as I was to leaving Brad, I would miss him. I’d miss having someone to share my bed with who knew exactly how to turn me on and keep me there. But like I said, great sex can’t fix everything.

Brad was still sleeping when I got up for work. I left him half a pot of coffee and quietly left the duplex for the last time. When I got to the car, I fished in my purse for the keys, hoping I’d remembered to grab them. Once I made it out of the house, I didn’t want to go back there ever again. My fingers closed around the key fob. I pressed the button to unlock the doors and the trunk.

I felt Brad’s hand on my elbow as I reached for the door handle and nearly jumped out of my skin. Nina, he said. Shit. I glanced over to his car. The note was still there. He hadn’t seen it yet. He’d probably just come out to get the paper. He said, Do you want some breakfast or something?

I stiffened, straightened my back, and turned to face him. Sorry, no. I have an early meeting. You were just so sound asleep I didn’t want to wake you. I could tell he didn’t know I was leaving for good, but Brad must have sensed something. There was an extra line of worry on his forehead.

I leaned in to kiss him. We’ll talk more later.

Okay.

He shook his head slowly. I'm so, so fucking sorry that you’re knee-deep in all the bullshit I created. I really am.

It’s okay. I leaned in to kiss him again. At the moment, I was done being mad about the debt, but thinking about how much I used to love how he kissed me. Maybe Brad was thinking of the same thing. When he came close, I felt a little of the stirring down below that had been part of what was great about us for so long. We were over, but I loved him and had always loved this with him. Dammit if I didn’t want goodbye sex for the road. I knew after this it would be a long time before I trusted anyone else enough to let them in. And Brad was about to get one hell of a shock. He knew that he’d never be able to change my mind. He was going to be completely lost without me for a while.

I grabbed the drawstring on his pajama pants and pulled him in even closer, pressing myself against him. He had padded down to the carport barefoot wearing only those pants and a plain white t-shirt.

Nina, you're so beautiful, he whispered against my ear then held me away from him a few inches. I’m never going to get tired of looking at you. I’m serious. Maybe I don’t tell you enough but you’re like Kate Upton gorgeous but even better because you’re real. How did I get so lucky? He held his lower lip between his teeth as he looked me up and down. It was predatory and sexy and the last thing he always did before moving in.

The next few minutes seemed to happen all at once. Brad’s hands were under my shirt, pulling my bra up over my breasts. His mouth was on my nipple as I braced myself against the car door. I had my hands in his hair. As I tried to catch my breath, his other hand was pulling on the button of my jeans. In my head, I thought not here, what if someone drives by, what if Mrs. Nordhaus comes down to throw out her trash, what if....

But Brad already had my pants open and was pulling them down past my hips, dragging my underwear with them. With my jeans tangled around my knees now, Brad grabbed my elbows. He turned my body around and pushed me until I was bent over the hood of my company car, my bare ass exposed to him and anybody who might have driven by. In spite of everything, I was swollen and slick with desire…more than ready for him. I struggled to get my thighs wider, angling my hips, offering myself up to him one last time.

With a quick fumble of his own pants, Brad guided himself into me. Pumping hard, he panted. He had his left hand flat against the hood, next to my cheek. He reached around and wedged his right hand between my legs. He knew. His thumb and forefinger quickly found the spot that I would strain to open even wider. As he slammed into me, he worked me over with his fingers until I cried out with an explosive orgasm. A few seconds later, he came hard in me, whispering my name.

We stayed still for a moment as Brad shuddered out the last of his orgasm deep into me. Then he lifted himself off me, helping me up as I quickly reached for my pants, pulling them up before someone walked by and saw us there. When he’d got himself together, Brad reached for me again. Drawing me into his chest, he placed a hard kiss on the top of my head. I stepped away first and gave him a weak smile. Ugh, I thought, why did he have to end up being such a train wreck? Why couldn't I just hate him and be done with it?

Before anything else could happen, I slipped into the car, jammed the keys into the ignition and backed out.

I have no idea if Brad watched me go and if he did how long he stood there. I kept my eyes straight ahead as I drove away, still sticky with what I knew was the last I would ever feel of Brad.

Chapter 2

My sister Natalie lived in a small, quiet subdivision just outside of Arlington, Virginia. Now thirty-one, she’d already had a short string of husbands and much longer string of failed careers. Her stint as a dental hygienist ended about the same time as Marriage #1 and for the same reason. The dentist was handsome and charming, and Natalie fell in love with him. His wife and her husband were less than amused.

Husband #2 was a car salesman and father to my twelve-year-old nephew, Drew. Natalie thought her troubles were over because Husband #2 wanted his wife to stay home while he treated her like a princess. But her Prince Charming bailed when shit got real after Drew was diagnosed with autism. In Natalie's fairytale, Cinderella ended up as a single mom working nights as an exotic dancer until she accidentally got knocked up after a one-night stand.

After my niece Gracie came along, Natalie switched to bartending. Her bad judgment in picking men reached epic proportions with Husband #3, the club promoter. She was living in Chicago with him and the kids at the time. I got suspicious when he kept answering her phone when I called. I finally flew out for an unannounced visit. My beautiful sister was about twenty pounds too thin and had bruises on her arms. We packed her bags, got her a restraining order and moved her and the kids closer to us in Arlington, Virginia. Her divorce was finalized a year ago.

Natalie greeted me with open arms and a mojito when I showed up, luggage in tow. Welcome to the club, she sang. We meet on Wednesdays.

Not funny, I said as I walked into her embrace. She felt strong, and the mojito helped. She grabbed one of my suitcases and we carried them into her spare bedroom.

I’d made a fantastic deal on this house for her. Four bedrooms, big yard in a quiet neighborhood with good schools. I cosigned her mortgage and helped out a little with the payments until Natalie could get fully back on her feet. Now, I figured I'd be upping that help to halfsies until I figured out my own next move. I didn't want to make payments on three places while Brad ran out our lease. Plus, I wanted family around me for a little while and I missed the hell out of Drew and Gracie.

How long until the kiddos get home? I asked, shoving my clothes into the tall dresser in my new temporary bedroom.

Natalie leaned against the doorframe. She looked good. So much better than that day when I’d found her skinny and beaten in Chicago last year. Natalie had always been the physical opposite of me. She was short and slight, with naturally toned arms and a flat stomach, even after two babies. Her thick, wavy brown hair almost touched her elbows. When men first saw her, they tended to see a fragile girl that they could protect or dominate. When men saw me, they saw boobs, long legs, and blonde hair.

Natalie picked at her thumbnail, then chewed it between her teeth. I said, Stop that! and touched her wrist lightly, pulling her hand away from her mouth. Actions and words I’ve told her since she was two.

Natalie smiled but rolled her wide brown eyes. "Drew gets home in an hour. Grace will be along about 45 minutes later. You picked a great time to come. It’s pizza Friday and my neighbor’s bringing bootleg copies of the latest Disney flick. It’s still in theaters but he’s got a connection from a guy at work. Some of them are pretty rough. The last one we watched – it

Reviews for Owned by the Playboy

[Anne Baker · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Jayne blues series just get better and better, need to find the next book in the series quickly