Bred By The White Alphas Erotic Bundle

By Aaliyah Jackson

These white bad boys know how to please in this big ;) bundle:

Dominated By The White Bikers

Chantel gets a little too drunk at the club, and wakes up in the bed of an outlaw motorcycle gang member. Although she's embarrassed at acting like a hoe, she decides to stay and kick it for a while, with no ride home she doesn't really have a choice. One game of strip poker and several drinks later, she finds herself the center of attention for the entire clubhouse. Soon she'll be taking on more than one white biker as she gives in to her deepest desires and does things she can never, ever admit to...

My Secret White Baby

Nikki's boyfriend Jordan is taking her for granted in a real way - she's lucky if she can get a word out of him, let alone some love and affection. So when her girl comes to visit, why shouldn't she hit up the club?

Her innocent intentions don't mean much when Jake, the owner of the club, spots her on the dance-floor and decides he likes what he sees. Nikki has no plans to cheat, that is, until she gets a text from her friend with a picture of Jordan getting into some ho's car.

A night of drunken, unprotected passion in the VIP is just the start for Nikki though, when a few weeks later she takes a pregnancy test only to find out that's pregnant with Jake's baby!

This erotica is a black woman, white man erotica about a billionaire who doesn't use a condom and doesn't pull out.

Taken By The Billionaire Russian Mob Boss

Rachel is an African American woman working in a casino. Nikolav is the billionaire Russian owner, who flies in for an inspection for the very first time since Rachel started working there.

Nikolav loves black women, and he's the type of man to always get what he wants.

So when Rachel makes a mistake that costs thousands of dollars, Nikolav doesn't want to fire her... instead, he makes her an offer she can't refuse.

She'll have to choose between her desires and her morals as the handsome Russian dominates her right then and there in his office.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Erotic Bundles
• Release date: Sep 19, 2019

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ominated By The White Bikers

Aaliyah Jackson

Chantel runs an idle finger over the rim of her martini glass, her heart thumping in her chest. How could a woman not get turned on by a motorcycle? She thinks. She bites her lip, looking out the front window of the bar, to the machines parked out on the curb. They’re long and sleek, with engines promising power between your legs. The streetlights overhead give the chrome and steel a liquid sheen. Chantel takes a sip from her glass, imagining how it would feel, 65 miles per hour on the freeway, the wind blowing through her hair, the bike gently buzzing against her spread thighs.

Chantel? You okay? Tamika tilts her head into Chantel’s field of vision. You want to talk about Marc? You were dating for a year. This is a major life moment, whether you want to admit it or not.

Keeping her eyes to the bikes outside, Chantel sits back in her chair. The DJ, couched in a far corner of the club, switches songs, the tempo suddenly slower and strong.

He cheated on me, Tamika, Chantel says. He’s a creep. I haven’t been happy with him for 6 months. Chantel tosses her head back, finishing the last slithering drips of her drink. Honestly, Tamika, I haven’t felt this happy in a long time. I’m only 23, I’m a hot young black woman, I feel like now that Marc is gone, that the whole world is open, like it’s a buffet just waiting for me to try everything, you know?

Tamika nods. Okay then, girlfriend, she breaks into her trademark toothy grin, lets get fucked up! She raises a finger in the air to hail one of the servers buzzing about the club. Two tequila shots for me and my newly-freed girlfriend!

To freedom and new experiences!

Tamika clinks her shot to Chantel’s. To freedom and new experiences!

Her heart still racing, the air hot and buzzing with each breath, Chantel throws the shot back in a single gulp.

Whoa whoa, there, Min, Tamika says. You’re five-foot-five and 110 pounds, you’d better be careful slamming drinks like that. You know they make them strong here. We don’t want another Pukesgiving on our hands.

Chantel, catching gazes with the server that now seems to be hovering around their table, raises her finger for another. First, she says, turning back to Tamika, Last Thanksgiving was bad because no one told me that drink was made with Jaeger, which was your dumb ass mistake. You know what happens when I drink Jaeger. Second, she pauses as the server quickly darts in to nestle another martini glass in her palm, I’ve lived in Marc’s shadow for too long. It’s time for me to open up my arms and accept what life has to offer, you know?

Tamika nods, taking a slow sip of her appletini. You know I love you, girl, but—

Chantel stands, the seat accidentally toppling from beneath her. Not wanting to hear the but to Tamika’s sentence, she grabs her friend by the hand and drags her away from the table.

No time to talk, bitch! It’s time to dance!

A glass breaks behind them but Chantel doesn’t bother looking back. What’s a broken glass on some club’s floor when there’s a whole world, a big apple waiting for her to take a bite? As if by providence, the song shifts up tempo, the rhythm compelling Chantel to bounce on the balls of her toes.

Ok, wow, Tamika shouts into Chantel’s ear, trying to speak over the deafening music. You’re already drunk, huh?

Fuck yeah I am, Chantel says. I had a few before you showed up. Let’s get some shots up in here!

Tamika again leans in to say something to Chantel, but the words are lost in transit. Dancing to the song’s pulse, Chantel feels her body expand, melt into the very essence of the music itself. The words from Tamika’s lips fizzle and die in the newly-expanded air. Sweat trickling down her face, Chantel swims through a warm tide of color and sound, her body abuzz with every flicker. The last thing she thinks, ready to explore a whole new world, is who came on those motorcycles. Maybe they’d like a drink or two...

-

In her half-dreams, Chantel feels the vibrations of a motorcycle against her legs. She feels the wind fluttering through her hair, a breeze on her flushed cheeks. Then she feels something else, something a shade more delicious. Her thighs seem to melt out from under her, a force examining every inch of her naked skin. She sees a vision of a man’s chest, his muscles smooth and taut under her fingers, a dragon tattoo slithering over the hard flesh.

The bedspring creaks like a needle in Chantel’s ear.

Uhhh... It feels like she spent all night doing crunches, her stomach cramped and tight. Sensations trickle in one by one before the world as a whole seems to come together. In the blackness, her eyes still clamped shut, Chantel hears a low murmuring sound, like a faraway stream. She breathes in and her nose is filled with the sting of stale cigarettes and spilled beer. A warmth rests across her chest.

Mornin’ sunshine. A thick, heavy voice whispers in Chantel’s ear, pulling her eyes open. Chantel turns to the voice, still half in a dream, to see a squared jaw dusted with heavy stubble. Lips spread into an easy smile and green eyes ablaze in the morning light look to her.

You’re all kinds of feisty, you know that? The vibrations from his voice pulse down through the bed where Chantel lay.

This is the moment where it all comes flooding back to Chantel. The voice and the face and the cigarette-smelling room all come back to her. Chantel bolts upright in bed, instantly regretting the action. It feels like someone is driving nails through her forehead.

Oh god, she moans. Did..., she turns to the man laying in bed beside her. Dusty blonde hair falls down past the diamond studs in his ears. His shoulders have more muscle than Chantel has in her whole body. Chantel takes a deep breath, both to calm her brain and her stomach. Did we sleep together last night?

The man rolls onto his back and folds his hand behind his head. You don’t remember, darlin’? Hm. And here I thought I was more memorable than that.

World War 3 could have happened last night and I wouldn’t know.

The man laughs, a deep, chest laugh that shakes the whole bed. Honey, what we did last night would make World War 3 blush. He turns again onto his side, hand propped in his hand. His other hand slides up from the bed, his fingers dancing a little waltz over Chantel’s dark skin.

The