Auction: No Protection

By Q. Zayne

*This is explicit erotica with a sex auction in a private billionaires club on a remote island.*
My car hit the gleaming sports car in front of me. The convertible looked green as money and my headlights created glare on the crumpled chrome bumper.
A tall man in an expensive trench coat unfolded from his crunched car. He looked me over as though I was something precious.
I had the strangest desire for him to take off his gloves and touch me. He had perceptive eyes and a mouth that could be cruel.
He handed me his card.
"This can be our secret." He glanced at my car. "I have enough insurance for both of us." His eyes gleamed. "Go to the website on the card and apply. My exclusive club is located on a private island. I think you'll suit us well, if you pass the physical."

This a standalone novelette includes BDSM, medical fetish, huge interracial menage, and older man younger woman romance with consequences. Hard and unprotected all the way, in all ways. Contents may be triggering for some readers, Click buy and enjoy the scary-sexy show at The Billionaires Club!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Q. Zayne
• Release date: Jan 9, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370430581

Q. Zayne

Q. Zayne often appears on top 100 author lists. Q. minored in Classical Archaeology and has an MFA in Creative Writing from SFSU. After teaching at the university, working as an editor, and freelancing, the author embarked on a wild digital publishing adventure. Thanks to fabulous readers, super promoters, and unflagging supporters, Q. writes fiction for a living from the Yucatan, Central America, and the California coast.Check out the Quin Zayne books for dirty, high-heat romance, and Q. Zayne for Erotica and naughty fairy tales.

Book preview

AUCTION—No Protection

Hailey obeys Doctor’s orders

The Billionaires Club #2

The Accident, from Hailey

My car hit the gleaming sports car in front of me. The convertible was the green of money, and my headlights created glare on the crumpled chrome bumper.

I gripped my steering wheel, frozen in shock. My blonde hair covered my face. I sat there behind my pale gold curtain, not daring to face the driver of the car I banged. I'd let my insurance lapse because I was broke. This was bad, really bad. No question it was my fault. I’d been seething about a jerk at work and ran the stop sign. At least I hadn’t had a shift drink at the club.

In a few minutes I would have been home, away from the nightlife in North Beach, curled up with a book in my miracle South of Market studio. Now my future was in a stranger’s hands.

A tall man in an expensive trench coat unfolded from his crunched car.

Instant relief: the driver was a man. Somehow, women often weren’t big fans of Hailey Lane. As soon as I developed, other girls seemed to resent that I was built like a lingerie model. I got out to meet him. Standing there in the hot pink mini dress I wore to the club, I tucked my hands under my arms, which made my breasts stick out even more. My body brought in a lot of tips when I served cocktails, so I hoped this guy wouldn’t be immune.

He approached me without anger, even though I’d just crunched his gorgeous, sleek car. I spotted the jaguar on the hood. He didn’t say a word, just looked me over as though I was something precious.

The weirdest thing, I felt like he was reading me like a book. Chills crawled up my spine and down the crack of my ass with my gold thong. I squeezed myself harder, making my tits pop in the clinging sweater dress.

I had the strangest desire for him to take off his gloves and touch me. He had perceptive eyes and a mouth that could be cruel. Silver streaks shone in the hair over his ears. He was older than my father. I wanted him to kiss me until my lips bruised.

He handed me his card.

This can be our secret. He glanced at my car. I have enough insurance for both of us.

Um, really? What was he, a mind reader?

His eyes gleamed. Go to the website on the card and apply. My exclusive club has some new positions. We're located on a private island. You'll find it peaceful. I think you’ll suit us well, if you pass the physical. Are you all right to get home? He reached into his trench coat pocket, revealed an umbrella, and handed it to me.

Yes. Yes, I am. I accepted the umbrella, not understanding why he gave it to me.

Don’t worry. I won’t turn you in if you choose not to apply. I hope you do come to us. He looked me over with his dark, shining eyes.

I’m so sorry! I wrung my hands, finally able to move. I’d been staring at him like a mouse mesmerized by a big snake. My face flamed, as I noticed other people watching. I tugged on my skirt, but it was in its usual position, high up my thighs and like a climbing cat, it didn’t want to come down.

He waved my apology away with his immaculate glove. The stranger got in his car and took off. It began to pour. I opened the umbrella and looked at his card.

Gabriel

The Billionaires Club

I turned it over. A website address crossed an aerial image of an island.

It made me think of a treasure map in a story book. I wanted to go there.

At home in my studio I hesitated over the keyboard. What would it hurt? I’d just look at the website. He assured me he wouldn't turn me in for the accident whether I applied or not. If he’d been pushy, it would have turned me off. The man had class and finesse. He took a bad, scary situation and made it okay. Plus, I was so sick of my job, obsessing about the jerk-wad manager got me into my first car accident. I needed a change. I wound my hair around my finger and chewed a cuticle.

That was the deciding factor, his assurance that he wasn’t going to get me in trouble. If he tried to hold that threat over me, and coerce me into working for him—but no. He was a gentleman. A crazy-hot daddy-gentleman. And there were worse things than the prospect of applying to have such a suave, hunky—and wealthy—boss. I let out a long breath and typed the address.

I scanned the information page on the website. The Billionaires Club, an exclusive club for gentlemen of means, was creating a new opportunity for women in need. No where on the site did it spell out what this opportunity entailed. It mentioned employment requirements, a non-disclosure agreement, and a physical. What kind of work might it be that required a physical?

He mentioned an island. Could it be an exotic gig, like scuba instructor? Did masseuses need to pass a physical? Probably not. Made it seem like heavy lifting, but that was unlikely. Although just because Gabe was so dapper didn't mean he didn't expect other people to do the menial work.

Hailey Makes Her Decision

Something about the way he looked at her—she didn't think he wanted her as a housemaid.

Against her better judgment,