Sold To The Billionaire

By Amy Faye

Punishing me with his c*ck is like punishing a starving man with food.

“Get on your knees, babe.”

“Why?”

“So I can film you sucking my c*ck.”

My dad makes bad decisions. Selling me instead of paying off his gambling debts was the biggest one yet.

I wasn't even surprised.

What was surprising was how much I loved toying with my new master. And how much I loved it when he punished me for it.

How much punishment can he give? And how much can I take?

This novel is sexy, naughty, and comes with a guaranteed happily ever after! There are NO CLIFFHANGERS and and ending that will leave you so satisfied.

• Language: English
• Publisher: HeartthrobPublishing
• Release date: Oct 15, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463280683

Book preview

Sold to the Billionaire

Sexy Secrets & Trouble

Amy Faye

Published by Heartthrob Publishing

Hot erotic shorts by Amy Faye, Published by Heartthrob Publishing

www.gold-miss.com

© 2017 Amy Faye

All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permissions contact:

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Here’s a preview of the sexy love story you’re about to read…

She rolls her eyes and I see red. You know what? I’ve just gotten a good idea.

I pull out my phone. I do have a good idea. About a dozen good ideas that all come together at once in an instant of white-hot rage.

What’s that? She says it with an air of contempt.

You’re going to get on your knees.

What? You’re going to get me to suck your cock because you can’t get a woman stupid enough to do it for free?

I’m recording the whole conversation, now. That’s part of the appeal, I think. It’s an angle. A niche for me to fill. That’s the trick to making money in any business. Have an angle. Something that makes you stand out.

No, I say simply. I’m going to make money. I’m going to sell you to the whole world.

What’s that supposed to mean?

Get on your knees, babe.

Why?

So I can film you sucking my cock.

What, am I supposed to look like I enjoy it? Like some kind of porn star?

Look like whatever you want to look like. You hate me, don’t you?

You’re catching on, she growls. But she drops to her knees anyways, and starts undoing my belt for me.

But you’re still going to suck me off, aren’t you?

I’m already halfway hard when she gets me out of my boxers. It more than fills her hand, though she’s got smallish hands. Small everything, but proportionally, she’s big where it counts.

She takes it into her mouth and bobs her head gently. God fucking damn. That’s good. She’s good at this. Better than I’d expected.

Anything to say to the camera?

She pulls my cock out of her mouth, but leaves her hand around it, jerking it slightly.

Fuck you, let’s get this over with.

Good girl, I say as she takes it back between her lips. God. Very good girl.

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One

Luke

I take one last look at my cards. Like I’m not sure what they are. I tell myself I won’t look again. This time, I might manage it. Because I’m pretty sure of what they are. But a straight flush is an unlikely hand, even in a game of Hold ‘Em, and I don’t want to have overlooked something. Something like the possibility that he’s got the pocket jack and queen to beat my ten-high.

From the expression on Bill’s face, he’s sitting pretty on something. I have to think about it for a long time. What are the odds?

They’re not zero. On the other hand, if he’s just got a flush, who wouldn’t be pleased with that? Or perhaps he’s got a pocket pair of eights. That would make a full house, eights over sixes. A Full House is nothing to sniff at. But it’s not going to beat a straight flush.

That’s the gamble. I take a deep breath. It’s only a measly ten grand, anyways. I could walk away now, and be up twenty more. But I can’t help it. There’s a devil on my shoulder and he’s telling me to roll the damn dice.

I’ll see your five hundred, and raise you a thousand.

It won’t end there. But if I go too hard, he’ll back off. Poker isn’t about winning. It’s about letting your opponent think you’re the one making the mistake.

A thousand? Just that? Luke, you’re getting soft.

Bill’s eyes flash like he’s a coyote in the hen house. I’ll go all in.

He’s sitting on a pile of money. The best I can do is to match him. The pot’s going to get near a hundred grand now, and I’m not looking forward to writing the check that’s going to come with losing. So I won’t.

All in, huh? I eye Seth off to my right. He’s got a frown on his face. Not tonight. Going hard as hell, God damn.

I make a show of thinking about it. Tap my thumb on the table. It’s unnecessary at this point, I have to admit. I ought to just show the damn cards and take the money. But I got what I wanted, and now I’m going to roll around in it.

Alright. Call. I push a stack of chips across the table. It’s less a ‘stack’ and more a pile, and the pile flows over my hands so I have to make a second push to get them all into the middle.

Bill’s never been a good poker player, per se. You can read his face. And his face says there’s no way he’s going to lose. I just have to gamble that he thinks wrong.

Alright, Tom says. Show ‘em.

I raise my eyebrows at Bill. You first, man. Let’s see it.

Oh, Lucas, he says, taking another drink of scotch. You’re going to ruin my whole… thing. You first, come on. Unless you’re afraid it won’t be good enough?

I shrug and flip the cards over. Five-six hearts. He looks like he’s going to choke.

You son of a bitch!

For a minute I’m worried that Bill is going to jump over the table and throttle me. It wouldn’t be totally outside the realm of possibility, with him. He tends to overreact to shit like this, and most men react a little more to losing ten grand than I might.

What’s the problem, Bill?

That’s im-fucking-possible! You’re a god damn cheat!

I spread my hands in a gesture that suggests a shrug. I don’t need to cheat to win, my man. Unless you’ve got cheating on the brain?

He suddenly decides that maybe it’s time to think things through before he starts talking. It’s a little late now, friend.

I don’t know what you’re talking about.

You think every man here can’t see you fiddlin’ with your damn sleeves when you think we’re not looking? Man, I don’t mind the extra effort. Not like you can hid the hand you’re holding from a blind man, but if you’re going to be a cheat, you might as well be a good God damn winner, am I right?

That gets him, and he starts making a serious effort at getting around the table and into my face. I don’t think he’s thought this through, either. I could clock him into next week if it came to a straight-up fight.

Now, when are you going to get me that check?

He pulls back a fist and Tom moves to stop him. I watch Bill’s fist fly through the air like it’s in slow motion. It’s easy to duck around it. I slap him. Not hard enough to hurt, but stiff enough that it’ll rattle his cage.

This time Tom succeeds where he’d failed the first time, wrapping an arm around Bill’s waist and pulling him away before the second punch can fail to connect.

You’re good for it, aren’t you?

You’re a cheating son of a bitch, and I don’t owe you a fucking dime!

You’re one to talk, I say. My voice is low. A cheat and a squelcher? Is that what I’m hearing?

Fuck you, man. I don’t have to answer to you.

I turn to Seth. He’s sitting off to the side, his eyes as chilly as ever as he watches. He hasn’t moved an inch. I thought this was a friendly game you guys were running here.

Yeah, I suppose you’re right. Bill, you’re going to have to calm yourself down, or…

Or what, pretty boy? You want some? You come over here, or get this bastard off me, and I’ll give you the same. You fucking watch me!

Seth’s jaw clicks off to one side. His eyes drop shut. I turn back to Bill. Now, about that money. I’ll take cash if you’ve got it, or I’ll take a check. Make it out to Lucas H. Mercer, if you don’t mind.

He pulls against Tom’s arms, but Tom’s shifted his arms to get a better grip, and there’s not much give in it. If Tom were a little bigger, and had a little experience, I bet he’d make quite a wrestler. Or maybe he has the experience, back in high school. Not like I know the guy well enough to say either way.

I ain’t got it, he says softly.

What’s that supposed to mean? You came here without any fucking money? Really?

I mean, I ain’t got the money, alright?

"That’s why you write a check,