Sold at the Games

by Sierra Sparks

  Sold at the Games: An MMMF Reverse Harem Romance

  Copyright © 2018 Sierra Sparks and Juliana Conners.

  All Rights Reserved.

  Published by Sizzling Hot Reads

  Cover by Cosmic Letterz

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  Contents

  Chapter 1 – Melissa

  Chapter 2 – Melissa

  Chapter 3 – Martin

  Chapter 4 – Melissa

  Chapter 5 – Gerald

  Chapter 6 – Melissa

  Chapter 7 – Kevin

  Chapter 8 – Melissa

  Chapter 9 – Martin

  Chapter 10 – Kevin

  Chapter 11 – Melissa

  Chapter 12 – Gerald

  Two Billionaires for Christmas: An MFM Menage Romance

  Three Billionaires for Valentine’s: An MFMM Menage

  Tackled by the Team: An MFMM Menage Reverse Harem Romance

  Twice the Fun: A Bad Boy MFM Menage Romance

  SEAL's Virgin: A Bad Boy Military Romance

  First Comes Love: A Navy SEAL Secret Baby Romance (Ramsey’s Story)

  Yes, Boss: A Bad Boy Office Romance

  Perfect Fit: A Modern Day Dirty Cinderella Fairy Tale with a Fake Royal Marriage Twist

  Dr. Fake Fiancé: A Virgin and Billionaire Romance

  Mountain Man’s Baby: A Billionaire and Virgin Romance

  A Sneak Peek into Sold on Christmas Eve

  Chapter 1 – Melissa

  Today has started off like any other. I’m still in my PJs, which isn’t abnormal since I like to lounge around in them when I’m not going anywhere, watching a Youtube channel about the South Korean economic model, when I hear frantic pounding on the door to my apartment. It must be my crazy neighbor again, I think. He is old and half blind, and always confuses my apartment for his.

  “Mr. Kim,” I call out, in my best attempt to speak Korean. “Your apartment is two down from mine, remember? Two to the left of mine?”

  “Melissa! This isn’t Mr. Kim!” calls a voice, in English, muffled not only by the apartment door but also by laughter. “Whoever that is. This is your BFF! Open up!”

  “Sheila!”

  I get off the couch to let her in. I have no idea why she’s here so early. We didn’t have pre made plans, and she’s usually anything but a morning person. But, one thing I know for sure is that whenever Sheila is around, adventure lurks.

  “Come on,” she says, motioning towards the exit hallway as soon as I open the door, as if reading my mind and proving my point. “Let’s go.”

  “Let’s go where?” I ask, puzzled.

  She rolls her eyes and looks me up and down. “Why are you still in your pajamas?”

  “Umm, why aren’t you?”

  “Because we’re going to watch the Olympics. Hurry up. You’re not going like that, are you?”

  “What the hell? Sheila? The Olympics?”

  We’ve been in South Korea for six months now and this is the first time I’d heard of this. We’re studying journalism at Northwestern and we’re here to study abroad and to report on North Korea’s affect on South Korea economics.

  I’d obviously known that the Olympics were being held here, and I’d thought that sounded pretty cool, but I didn’t think there was any chance we could actually go. I wasn’t too crushed about it, though, because I’m not a big sports fan. I’m more of an academic nerd.

  Sheila likes to tease me about this very fact. And perhaps it’s for this reason that she’s inviting me to attend the Olympic Games with her, however she managed to swing that. She’s always trying to encourage me to get out of my comfort zone and have some fun.

  “Can we just go to the Olympics?” I ask her, puzzled. “No, right? We need tickets or something?”

  “Well, that’s the thing,” she says, looking as if she won the lottery. “I scored us an invitation.”

  “How’d you do that?” I ask her, only mildly impressed. Sheila has a way of wiggling her way into anything fun or newsworthy.

  “I was at a café when I met this adorable Korean lady, Amy, who has connections. She pulled some strings and said the two of us are welcome to come watch in special VIP seating she has.”

  “Wow,” I say, feeling as if it’s almost too good to be true. But then I return to being realistic— which is my realm, although Sheila prefers the fantastical. “I don’t know. It sounds like it could be kind of dangerous. And plus, I have a lot of studying to do. I don’t even know what’s going on at the games. I’d probably root for the wrong team or something.”

  “Oh Melissa, don’t be your usual nerdy self,” Sheila said. The she laughs. “Just root for Team USA and you’ll be fine.”

  “That was a joke—” I begin, but she keeps talking.

  “Have a little fun for once. We’ll just go to the slopes and watch the snowboarding events. Those guys are super hot. What’s wrong with watching them on their boards?”

  Her devilish grin makes its trademark appearance, and I give into her, like I always do.

  “Hold on, let me put me on some warm clothes,” I tell her. “It’s going to be so damn cold.”

  “Can’t you ever look on the bright side of things?” she asks, to which I answer, “No, I can’t,” as I start to change. Good old Sheila. She can talk me into just about anything.

  As we arrive at the slopes, we meet up with Amy and she introduces herself to me.

  “I’m so glad you both accepted my invitation,” she says, with a smile and a wink. I look at her blankly, wondering why she would care so much.

  Sheila nods her head and smiles. “Thank you so much for inviting us.”

  “Yes, thank you,” I add, trying to sound grateful.

  And, I am grateful, although the whole situation seems kind of weird to me. I start to admit to myself that it’s a good thing I agreed to come. The air is crisp and the sky is bright; there’s a feeling of competitiveness and optimism in the air that’s contagious.

  The half pipe event is more fun to watch than I would’ve thought. And the athletes are in super good shape.

  One snowboarder keeps getting my attention. He’s buff and tan and looks like some kind of Greek god. His long, straggly, dirty blonde hair falls into his eyes, escaping from his beanie.

  “I see that Martin Schmidt has caught your eye,” Amy says, leaning over so that she’s in my field of vision, and laughing.

  “What? Who?”

  “Don’t act so innocent,” Sheila pipes in. “You’ve been staring at him since we got here.”

  I shrug, but I can’t help but blush. They’re right. He’s so hot.

  “You’re completely normal,” Amy reassures me. “He’s lusted after by ladies the world over. And he’s a spectacular athlete too. He always wins.”

  Sure enough, he wins silver in the event.

  I thought I had come to South Korea to study and kick off my journalism career. Apparently, I also came to watch the Olympics and ogle the hot athletes, especially this one. Looks like I like sports more than I thought I did, I think. Or at least, certain athletes…

  I tell myself to leave that thought right there. There’s no way I could pursue anything with this athlete I don’t even know, even though in fantasy, it sounds amazing. I bet he’d be as skilled in bed as he is in on the slopes. I bet he’d know exactly what to do with me, like no other guy I’ve ever dated has.

  If only I could find out. But I can’t. And that’s that.

  Right?

  Chapter 2 – Melissa

  “I can’t believe how good he is,” I remark, as we file out along
with what looks like about a bazillion other fans. “He won a medal.”

  “Only a silver,” Sheila says, with an unimpressed shrug. “I really thought he’d get gold. But he’s a dream, regardless.”

  “I know,” Amy agrees. “Every woman’s dream come true.”

  “Well, thanks for inviting me,” I tell her.

  “I knew you’d like it, even if you were convinced otherwise,” Sheila says.

  “Yeah, you know me pretty well,” I admit.

  “I just know you should try more things. Loosen up a little. Have more fun.”

  “Okay, Sheila,” I tell her, with a laugh.

  “Always a good idea,” Amy adds, her pretty, dark brown eyes brightening, and once again, I can’t help but wonder why she’s so interested in Sheila and me having a good time.

  As we stand shivering in the cold, annoyed by the throng of people, someone comes up to us with a note.

  “Hello, Amy,” he greets Amy in Korean. She nods at him and smiles. Then he turns his attention to Sheila and me. “Misses, misses,” he says, speaking English with a strong Korean accent, as he hands it to us. “Mr. Schmidt would like you to have this.”

  We open the note, and it says:

  Meet me at Hanwootown as soon as you can.

  “What’s Hanwootown?” I ask Sheila, wondering if it’s some mistake.

  Maybe I can’t read the handwriting very well.

  “Oh come on, Melissa,” she says, rolling her eyes at me. “It’s only the most well known and super posh bar in all of Pyeongchang.

  “Oh,” I say, feeling dumb. “I didn’t know that.”

  “Do you even go out?” she asks me. “Like, anywhere beyond the school’s computer lab?”

  “Not really.” I shrug.

  I go to the occasional opera. I’ve even been to the Odeasan National Park in the cold of winter, when I went snowshoeing with a group from school. But I know that isn’t what she’s asking, and it wouldn’t even impress her.

  “Is this note meant for me or you?” she asks me, crinkling up her eyebrows to stare at it. It has no name on it.

  “I don’t know,” I say.

  My heart races, and I have to admit that I want it to be for me. Sure, I was never one for nightlife or fancy bars, but I wasn’t one to watch sports either, before I spotted Martin. He’s sparked something new and exciting in me, that I want to keep exploring.

  “I guess we’ll find out,” Sheila says, sounding annoyed, as we jostle through the crowds.

  “Ladies, ladies,” Amy interrupts, that happy smile spreading back across her face. “It’s for both of you. And it’s a good thing. Believe me, a very good thing.”

  “What is she talking about?” I ask Sheila, turning to look her straight in the eyes, because I have a feeling she knows exactly what Amy has been hinting at all day, but has been holding out on me because she knows I won’t like it.

  “Let’s just say that we weren’t invited here for our conversation-during-Olympic-games-watching skills,” she says, cryptically.

  “Huh?” I ask her.

  “We were invited here for our looks,” she snaps in a whisper, her eyes darting back and forth at Amy and me, warning me to hush.

  “Wait, stop,” I insist. I don’t like that Sheila has left me in the dark about something. “What do you mean? Just tell me. Come on.”

  Amy sighs, as if annoyed at having to re-explain everything, and glares at Sheila, as if to say it was her job. And she’d be right about that.

  “I explained to your friend Sheila here when I met her that the invitation was to watch the Games, and if any of the athletes takes an interest in you, then you’ll be invited to a special club being hosted at a restaurant.”

  “A special club?” I ask, incredulous. Sheila bites her lip, knowing she’s in trouble.

  “Yes, it’s called The Exchange Club,” Amy continues. “It’s international. They don’t have a location here in South Korea— at least not yet— but they are temporarily operating here out of a restaurant, since the Olympics are here.”

  “Operating what out of a restaurant?” I ask, still confused.

  “Look, Melissa,” Sheila blurts out. “It’s a club for rich men and elite athletes and people like that. They have auctions.”

  “Auctions?”

  “Yes, where women can sell whatever they desire,” Amy says, with a smile. “Not only were you able to watch the Olympics today, but, due to the fact that at least one of the athletes has taken an interest in you, you also have the opportunity to make a lot of money.”

  “Doing what?” I ask, so mad at Sheila that I could nearly explode. I can’t believe she would drag me here without filling me in on this. I guess I should believe it, though— that’s a very Sheila-like thing to do.

  “Anything you want,” Sheila says. “You can just have dinner with a guy. See if you two hit it off.”

  Amy nods her agreement, but she’s raising an eyebrow in a way that suggests that that scenario isn’t very likely. I begin to relax, because I thought that in order to go this restaurant and see Martin again— which I would really like to do— I’d have to sell sex.

  And I’ve never even had sex at all. I’m not only a nerd, but also a virgin.

  But, if it’s just dinner? My heart races at the possibilities. Maybe Martin and I will hit it off. What’s so wrong with selling myself as a dinner date?

  Part of me is screaming that it’s not just a dinner date. Any red blooded male would want more. But that doesn’t mean I’d have to give it to him.

  Right?

  I don’t even know the limits to reality anymore. Today has been surprising me in lots of ways. Now, I surprise myself by feeling excited at the possibility of being with Martin. My panties dampen and I try not to blush as I think about Martin taking me for my very first time. Of him handling my body the way he does his snowboard. Sometimes it would be like a rough ride full of tricks and turns, and other times, it would be like he was cutting smoothly and expertly through virgin territory.

  “Okay,” I agree, resolutely. “Let’s go to this fancy restaurant and see what this whole auction thing is all about.”

  “Yay!” Sheila says, hugging me. “I knew you’d agree it was a good idea.”

  But her exuberated relief betrays her statement. I hug her back, anyway. She’s right— I need to get out more and have more fun. Why not start with a hot Olympic athlete?

  “Okay, I’m glad you ladies have made up, but we have to be on our way now,” Amy says, in a hurry. “We don’t want to miss the main event.”

  Finally, we make our way out of the crowds at the slopes and into the busy streets of Pyeongchang. There are locals and tourists everywhere, all there to watch the Olympic games, just as we are.

  But I feel like we’re headed somewhere more important than they are. They’re loafing around, doing nothing. I have an Olympic snowboarding star to meet! I hope he’ll introduce himself to me by name. And then, I hope he’ll do a lot more to me than that.

  Chapter 3 – Martin

  “Way to kill it on the halfpipe,” my team mates Gerald and Kevin say, as we change out of our gear.

  “Thanks,” I tell them, trying my best to be grateful and humble, since they didn’t place and I did.

  But, if I’m honest with myself, I have to admit that I’m fucking bummed. I thought I had a real chance at gold. I still have the slopestyle to compete in tomorrow, but, it would have been great to go into it knowing I’d already won gold on the halfpipe.

  I’d been training my whole life for this, and my chance for one gold medal was gone. I’ll just have to ensure I win gold tomorrow, I resolve.

  “Did you guys check out the girls who were watching with Amy?” Gerald says, bringing the conversation to brighter topics.

  “Hell yeah,” I say. “I still can’t believe this awesome set up Amy’s offering us.”

  “Oh, come on,” Kevin says. “You know there are a lot of perks that come with being here. Competing in t
he Olympics.”

  “Yeah, but I never imagined anything like this,” I respond. “Plus, we still have to pay.”

  Gerald nodded but Kevin says, “I don’t know. The same companies who sponsor us will probably foot the bill.

  I laugh, wondering if he has a point.

  While we were training, Amy had approached us and let us know about the Exchange Club. Sure, there are lots of perks to this job, but I never knew that being able to buy any woman I wanted was one of them. I guess one has to reach fucking Olympic status to get offered that.

  At first, I was skeptical, and asked why we’d need to buy a woman when we could have any we wanted, anyway. I had never had a shortage of dates or fuck buddies or booty calls, and, now that I was Olympic athlete caliber, my offers have only increased.

  “Oh, you’d be surprised about the reasons a man would want to purchase a lady’s company,” Amy had explained. “In such a scenario, both parties might be willing to do things they never would have thought acceptable otherwise. The financial transaction brings all sorts of possibilities into play.”

  I have to admit that that answer had fucking intrigued me. I decided it couldn’t hurt to show up and see what it was all about. Amy had informed us that girls interested in the auction would be sitting in the same section as her on the slopes, and that we should see if there are any we’re interested in. If so, they’d be invited to come to the restaurant where The Exchange Club was holding the auction.

  “Well, I liked the curvy blonde in the second row,” I tell Gerald and Kevin now. “She couldn’t seem to keep her eyes off me. And I guess the feeling was mutual.”

  “Awww, man,” Gerald groans. “The one with the curls sticking out of her little headband? And those baby blue eyes?”

  “That would be her.” Apparently I had chosen a real looker— Kevin was nodding his head as if he, too, knew exactly who we were talking about.

  “She was my favorite, too,” Kevin admits.

  “Well, geez.” I sigh.

  Just my luck. Not only do I fail to win gold, but I’m going to be fighting over the girl I’d gotten excited about inviting to the Exchange Club.