Submitting To The Master Brat and Older Man

By Jemma James

He was one of the richest men in America. An older man of the house, who was as good looking as he was powerful.

He could have had any woman he wanted. And yet he wanted me, a younger babysitter, a woman who owned practically nothing of value, sitting to put herself through college.

He knew it was my first time, and that I would be tight for him. That was why he seduced me so expertly, and rode me without protections

Well, this is a man who always gets what he wants. And I will submit to him totally!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alice B Handcock
• Release date: Jun 2, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215063071

Book preview

Submitting To The Master:

Brat and Older Man

By Jemma James

All characters are over 18

There was something different about him.

That was what I thought as he opened the door to his great big mansion, set in its many acres of immaculately landscaped gardens, the Bentley on the driveway pinging as it cooled down in the hot summer evening.

Had he made a bit more of an effort with his clothes? He always dressed immaculately, billionaires do of course, but there was something else. His thousand dollar jeans seemed to cling to his tight, forty year old butt in a way I had never seen before, or at least not appreciated, and his black silk shirt was pure male gigolo. It only served to accentuate the form and hardness of his pecks and shoulders, gym fit without being over- bulky – no doubt as he had stipulated to his army of personal trainers and nutritionists.

His black hair too, gelled and immaculately rough, the kind of ‘just got out of bed’ look that men like him spent an age perfecting. Even his half-a-day stubble, which served as an underlining to his piercing blue eyes, the ones that could spot a short trade in a bull market and make a killing, was pure older man cliché.

He beamed at me as he let me into his house. It always took my breath away, whenever I walked inside that hallway, a room that was way bigger than most people’s apartments, especially mine. My cheap sneakers squeaked on the marble floor, and I felt as though I might once again be overwhelmed in his presence. He took my ‘coat’,