Wednesday, August 5, 2015

'Disgraceful (Disgraceful Billionaires)' by Drew Sinclair


If push came to shove would you sell your used panties for the right price? What if the buyer turned out to be an overachieving, hotter than hell billionaire with an obsession to add you to his collection of prized possessions?

Victoria Price is one smart cookie with an ingeniously inventive mind but she desperately needs money to fund her latest creative project. What starts off as a joke rapidly turns into a minefield of scorching hot encounters with a man who makes her go weak at the knees every time she looks into his dark, intense eyes.

Find out what happens when one woman's reality becomes hotter than any fantasy she could ever have imagined.

Read an excerpt:

He was standing right in front of me, all suited and booted - hand cut and tailor made - clean-shaven, in his late twenties or early thirties and hot as any GQ model.
My head began to clear rapidly as he held up a phone towards me. It was an iPhone 6 Plus, complete with 5.5 inch HD display and that was my underwear revealed in glowing, high contrast, dual domain pixels.
I knew they were mine because that was me holding them up in the picture right next to my slutty, smiling face.
Was that really me? Could I really look that way?
God help me, I guess I could.
Thank you Apple Inc.
Thank you for those extra two inches of retina HD, they really capture the moment.
He turned the phone back to face him and began reading.
"Look at these perfect tits," his eyes stayed fixed on the screen, "look at this sexy ass." He looked back at me and my heart froze as I met his gaze. The words were achingly, gut wrenchingly familiar. "You know you want me," he continued, "and you know you want these. They're mine. I was hot in them, " he paused, "for you."
He turned the phone to me again.
"By 'these' Victoria, I presume you mean your panties. Am I correct?"
Those were my words alright and those were my panties, but I had no earthly clue who this asshole was or how he had gotten a hold of that picture…

Chapter One
My Name is Vincent Medici and I never forget a face.
Especially not a face I intend to come all… scratch that.
Let me begin again.
I never forget a face. Especially not a pretty face, but when that face comes attached to a body you want to fuck over and over again, it becomes even harder to forget. Add to that a text message promising to blow my mind and a pair of panties shoved virtually underneath my nose and this was an image that would be scorched into my brain for a lifetime.
I should have deleted it immediately but then again, why throw away something as beautiful and exciting as that?
Dumb question.
I hadn't been able to get the image out of my brain all night and had to keep checking my phone again and again for another look, just one more look and then another one last look as I tossed and turned in my bed.
When I walked into the foyer next morning and saw that same face working reception right smack in front of me, my heart nearly stopped.
This bullshit was going to end right then and there.
I walked up to her and took out my phone. I watched her eyes closely as I showed her the picture and I knew in one second for damn sure that it was the same woman. Her name tag said Victoria. The victorious one. Not this time little girl. If this was some kind of clumsy blackmail attempt I would shut it down before it even started.
Her pretty face took in the image on my phone and when she looked up at me I thought she would shove the copy of Scientific American she was reading down my throat.
What was a sleazy little blackmailer doing reading that?
"Get out of here." She said. Sexy voice I should mention. "Whoever you are, get out of here now, before I call security."
"Go ahead and call them." I said. It would have been funny if she had, considering I owned the building. In fact, I own several buildings and I make sure that security staff in each of them know exactly who I am.
I should start doing the same with my reception staff, although I was pretty sure that once we were done this particular employee would never forget my face again as long as she lived.
It would be only fair - after all, her face, no, rewind - her face, her body, her cute round little ass and her damned panties are burned into my mind forever, so why shouldn't she have something to remember me by in return?
Not that having any of that permanently in my head was really a problem, bearing in mind how cute the little deviant was.
She picked up her desk phone but I reached over and pushed her hand back down. Her whole body bristled with resistance.
Fuck if that wasn't a turn on already.
We were already way too close together and nothing about it felt right.
I was her boss, even if she didn’t know it yet. Despite the fact that she had sexted me I would be taken to the cleaners if it looked like I had subsequently harassed her as a result of her indiscretion.
"Take your hand off me." She hissed. Her perfume smelled fantastic, intoxicating - it was Chanel with a hint of boiling rage.

Buy links

Find other books by Drew Sinclair on Amazon.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Due to the tremendous amount of spam I receive on my blogs, all comments are moderated and will be added throughout the day.