Bought

By Jessica Crafts

Chloe is a pool hustler who never expected to find love when she spots the panty-droppingly gorgeous Jackson, a hotel tycoon, in the room. But when Jackson finds out Chloe is trying to hustle him, he makes an indecent proposal she can't refuse: join him on a five-day trip to a remote tropical island and he will give her

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bacchanal Press
• Release date: Dec 5, 2023
• ISBN: 9798869024220

Jessica Crafts

Jessica is a good girl who likes to think she's almost as sassy as her heroines... at times. It is her belief in true love and lasting passion that inspired her to write stories about loving alpha males and the women who adore them. She has a not-so-secret addiction to horror movies and cute, fuzzy animals; they both make her want to cuddle!

Book preview

Chapter 1

It’s fucking cold out here, I complained, wrapping my arms around myself and stamping my feet to work up some heat. Why do I do this with you?

Because you’re my best friend and wouldn’t let a girl smoke in a dangerous alleyway all alone? Jordan answered. Come on, Chloe. Get over it. I’ll only be another five minutes.

I rolled my eyes. Best friends. Dangerous alleyway. More like I didn’t want Jordan to go out for a smoke and scoop up a potential mark before I got my chance.

So, I shivered out here in my parka, a skirt that barely covered my thighs, sheer black nylons, and knee-high boots with come-fuck-me heels. Of course, none of the guys we preyed upon got any further than a few drunken gropes with me, because Jordan and I were that good at our work. If the men we fleeced were fiddles, then we were fucking were virtuosos and the pool cues were our bows.

It was early yet on this frigid New Year’s Eve—only eight, but Jordan and I liked to get to the bar as early as possible and claim our territory. It wouldn’t do to have someone else displace us, like stupid college girls looking for free drinks from guys susceptible to a pretty face and a supple body. No. This was our turf.

It probably didn’t hurt that the bartender was Jordan’s brother, and we always gave him a cut of our profits, just to ensure things went our way. As far as I was concerned, it was the perfect situation—a coastal bar not far from Atlantic City that saw a lot of tourists and businessmen passing through, guys we never had to see again after a few games of pool and a few extra hundred dollars in our pockets.

I loved being able to sleep in everyday and wake up late in the mornings. Why work hard when I could play hard and take home more money for minimal effort?

Grumbling, I stamped my feet again and said, That’s a dirty habit, Jordan, really. No guy likes a girl who reeks of smoke.

Some love it. You’d be surprised. Jordan took a few more inhalations, the smoke wisping from her mouth when she exhaled. Some guys like kissing a smoker. They think it’s sexy.

Again, yuck. Seriously. We’re not supposed to let them kiss us. I rolled my eyes toward the alleyway door of the bar. Let’s just get back in there, please. We’re wasting time and money, not to mention freezing our asses off.

It’s too early, especially being New Year’s Eve. The good marks won’t be here for a while, yet. Jordan’s cigarette was now a glowing butt and she flicked it to the ground without stomping it out. And don’t be such a baby, Chloe. Sometimes getting physical is the best way to their wallet. With a toss of her long, wavy brown hair, Jordan turned to the door and opened it.

I followed, a grimace of distaste twisting my mouth. Yeah, if you don’t mind being a hooker. There are lines we drew to protect ourselves. I had to raise my voice so she could hear me over the music as we entered the building.

No, those are lines you drew, Jordan retorted, shrugging as she led the way through the kitchen. Sometimes you have to give a guy a little something-something to get more out of him. You can’t always rely on them being drunk to loosen them up.

I shuddered, but not from the cold this time. As we passed into the main bar area, I shed my coat, hung it on the rack of pegs on the wall, and glanced around. It was a slow night, true, but it would pick up soon enough. The regulars were already at the bar, men I would never dream of hustling. Like old John, who was a combat veteran or Randall, a middle-aged used car salesman.

I took a stool next to John while Jordan ordered us drinks. Hey there, I said, looking at the grizzled man. How are you doing tonight, Johnny?

Good, good. Another year gone, eh? He smiled at me and lifted his beer. I liked John. He had interesting stories and always said innocently sweet things about how pretty I was. The old vet was probably more of a gentleman than any of the swaggering businessmen who passed through and thought I was good for more than just a game of pool.

Another year gone, I agreed, taking my glass of soda from Jordan. Any big plans for the new year?

John’s sigh was heavy. Volunteer more, I think. It’s time I put in more hours at the Veterans Home. He rubbed the back of his fingers up over his scruffy stubble and smiled lopsidedly. What do you think of that?

I think it’s a great idea, I said, and I truly did. Sure, all I did was take, take, take, but A. it was from men who had plenty to give and B. I appreciated it when others had the heart to give willingly.

Hey, Chloe. Jordan tapped my shoulder to get my attention and then pointed toward the door. It had opened to admit two men in suits. Both looked like out-of-towners—fresh-faced and fancy as fuck dressed in what I figured were Armani suits or good knockoffs, but that was the only similarity the men shared.

One looked younger, with blond hair flopping over his forehead like a California surfer, and eyes slightly glazed over, indicating he was already well into his cups. Jordan would want to work him over. In fact, she was already eyeing him possessively. The inebriated ones were easy, and Jordan liked easy.

The other had Manhattan posh written all over him—dark hair, narrowed eyes, but an air of nonchalance. Apparently, he didn’t visit Atlantic City often, because I would have remembered a man like him—a man with model-perfect good looks and broad shoulders. I bet underneath that suit was a body he could probably strut on a Calvin Klein runway. In fact, I’d go even further to bet he was wearing CKs at this very moment, the smooth, lush fabric probably hugging a firm, chiseled pair of hips and thighs…

I shook the thoughts from my head. Cut that shit out. He’s one hell of a fine mark, and that’s all.

I’ll take the Ken doll, Jordan muttered as she leaned back against the bar, her elbows on it so her breasts thrust forward provocatively. She had a lot to thrust, and I envied her those ample curves. With a glance down at my petite body, I sighed and lifted my soda to my lips.

Big, confident men like Manhattan always went for the tiny, delicate girls like me. It wasn’t something I care for, though: bears in human clothing thinking they could feel me up, pick me up, and treat me a bit like a rag doll. But as long as they were drunk and losing money, it didn’t last long.