Taken by the Billionaire in Marrakesh

By Kayden Jones

This is a standalone insta-lust age-gap romance novella with a lot of steam.

He is a god among men and I am lucky to be his.

I’ve never been into older men, but when this American billionaire shows me love and passion in the desert I realize that I’ve never known a real man before I met him.
***
Now they call me a sugar baby, a gold digger, a worthless skank. My sister, my colleagues, the press, everyone is against me and I need to escape. But now I belong to him and my master always takes care of his property.
***
He crushes my enemies and puts their fates in my hands, but I don’t care for anything else than pleasing him. But he goes even farther and makes me the happiest woman in the world and claims me forever.

For adult eyes only. All characters are over eighteen.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kayden Jones
• Release date: Apr 3, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224650040

Kayden Jones

Kayden had a lot of adventures during her teenage years and a lot of fun with dominant older men. Now she writes about these adventures in her books unless she is busy getting seduced by another older alpha!You are guaranteed to find a lot of dominant older men and submissive young women on the pages of her books, so grab a copy and enjoy![e-mail]

Book preview

Taken by the Billionaire in Marrakesh

An Age Gap Novella So Full of Steam

Kayden Jones

Copyright © 2024 Kayden Jones

All rights reserved

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter One

Islide into the back seat of a battered taxi, its once vibrant yellow paint now dulled by the unforgiving Moroccan sun and sandstorms. The young driver gives me a nod through the rearview mirror, his dark eyes barely visible beneath a thick fringe of hair. He doesn’t ask for directions, just steps on the gas. We lurch forward, and I grip the edge of my seat as we join the chaotic dance of Marrakesh’s streets.

The air is thick with the scent of spices—cumin, saffron, and something sweet I can’t quite name—mingling with the diesel fumes belching from scooters zipping past us. Vendors hawk their wares in a cacophony of sound; the clinking of metal lanterns, the whispered rustle of silken scarves, and the insistent cadence of Arabic bargaining. My pulse quickens not just from the near misses with donkey carts and wayward pedestrians, but from the sheer vitality that pulses through this city.

A symphony of colors assaults my senses—cerulean blue doorways, walls plastered in sunset hues of orange and pink, the vibrant greens of palm fronds swaying gently above. I feel each bump in the cobblestoned road, the dust clinging to my skin, the relentless heat seeping through the open window. It’s all so alive, so beautifully raw and untamed. This is what I’ve been craving, a world away from sterile office spaces and the stifling expectations of my older sister.

As the taxi halts in front of a grandiose hotel, I’m jolted from my reverie. The architecture is an elegant blend of traditional Moroccan design and modern luxury, towering pillars framing the intricately carved wooden doors. I step out, smoothing my light linen dress, and take in the opulence before me.

Welcome to the Cooper Riad, the receptionist greets, her smile bright.

Thank you, this place looks amazing, better than in the photos. But I meant to ask, why the name of your hotel sounds so… non-Arabic?

We are owned by Mr. Brad Cooper, an American.

An American? I echo, feeling strangely disappointed. I want to immerse myself into the new and exotic, with nothing reminding of the mundane reality of New York City.

Indeed, she replies, reading my expression. But if you’re curious about his story, perhaps you can ask him yourself. She nods towards the entrance.

My heart stutters at the sight of him. Brad Cooper moves with an ease that speaks of power, his athletic body encased in a perfectly tailored suit that accentuates broad shoulders and a narrow waist. His face is ruggedly handsome, with a hint of gray in his dark hair and warm brown eyes with barely noticeable crow’s feet. As he approaches, there’s a confidence in his stride that makes it impossible to look away.

Ms. Adams? His voice is deep, resonant, and it sends a shiver down my spine.

Charlotte, I correct him instinctively, extending my hand.

Brad, he says, taking my hand in a firm shake. It’s a pleasure to welcome you personally. I hope you’ll find everything to your satisfaction.

Our gazes lock, and in that moment, an electric charge sizzles through the air between us. His thumb brushes my skin lightly—a touch that’s both accidental and deliberate—and I feel a tug of desire low in my belly. I’ve never liked older men before, but the idea of being claimed by such a man is thrilling, forbidden, and I’m inexplicably drawn to the danger he exudes.

Thank you, Brad, I manage, my voice steady despite the fluttering in my chest. I’m looking forward to discovering all that Marrakesh has to offer.

Then you’ve come to the right place, he promises. I’ll make sure of it.

And as I follow him to the check-in desk, I know without a doubt that this trip will be anything but ordinary.

***