Avid reader, blogger, compulsive one-clicker, genre-omnivore.
He was tall with long, black hair. He wore a suit, and he wore it well – it was tight-fitting and hugged his lithe body. He was talking heatedly with another man in a suit near a door marked “employees only.” As Molly watched he laughed and patted the other man on the shoulder, and then turned and made to walk away – but then he caught her eye. She suppressed a squeal – she didn’t know why, but she would have squealed if she hadn’t made the conscious effort to stop it – and looked away.
She felt more than heard his presence behind her, and her whole body froze. She felt like a shadow had just descended on the entire aisle. Who was this man and why was he standing behind her? She suppressed the urge to turn around. She didn’t know why but the idea of turning around was terrifying to her. Well, she did know why – he was incredibly attractive and he was close to her. She wasn’t very good with attractive men. She wasn’t very good with men in general. Finally she heard him – heavy breathing, in and out, slow, rugged breaths.
***Content warning: For adults only!***
My Billionaire is one of those stories where not much at all makes sense… Molly was described as being extremely shy, and not at all open about her sexuality. Then, she went to the store to buy eggs for her mom, and followed a mysterious man who said his name was Damien to his office. There, she let him bring her to orgasm while he was essentially belittling her and calling her a slut and a whore.
Just after this, at her first evening on her college campus, she was drunk and one guy tried to get in her pants against her will, and another guy saved her. She promptly brought that guy home with her and had wild sex with him all night – but this time, she was the dominating party.
Good thing this was very short, and free, if not I might have been a little upset. The writing is a little bit erratic too, going from one moment to the next with no transition. And I didn’t find any of the scenes that were supposed to be erotic to be sexy nor erotic at all.
He broke off the kiss and grabbed her by the neck, digging his nails in. “What are you?” he said. His voice was different now – and she liked it. “Your slut,” she said, staring into his mismatched eyes. “I’m your personal little slut, Damien.” “Yes you are,” he said.
She found his lips and they kissed, saliva and blood mixing together.
Reading this book contributed to these challenges: