by Stella Stone
BUYING THE BARISTA
STELLA STONE
Contents
About the Author
Also By Stella Stone
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHATER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
EPILOGUE
HOT Recluse
CHAPTER ONE
Buying the Barista
Copyright © 2018 by Stella Stone
All rights reserved.
Cover Designer: Pink Ink Designs. Cassy Roop. http://www.pinkinkdesigns.com
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
ISBN-13: 978-1718751880
ISBN-10: 1718751885
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About the Author
Stella Stone is a penname for an already established author who wants to write Simply. Sexy. Stories.
She is a mother of two boys, and a wife to a bearded hubby, residing in a rural Texas town. During the day she writes sexy stories while her children are at school. In the afternoon, she is a chauffeur, Taekwondo observed, loud baseball, basketball, and cheering swim mom.
Enjoy her Simply. Sexy. Stories and the Alpha men she enjoys creating.
Also By Stella Stone
ALPHA BILLIONAIRE SERIES
BUYING THE HEIRESS
BUYING THE BARISTA
BUYING THE VIRGIN — JULY 2018
HOT Alpha Series
HOT Recluse
HOT Cop—JUNE 2018
The essence of all art is to have pleasure in giving pleasure.
Dale Carnegie
PROLOGUE
BEXLEY
My brother is an asshole.
He’s a manipulator, and a scammer. He’s had shady friends since he was a kid. As we’ve grown older, they’ve turned out to be dangerous more often than not. Standing behind the café’s counter, I watch him walk into the coffee shop with a man dressed in a suit.
The man in the suit is handsome I suppose, in a scary kind of way. His black hair is slicked back, his suit looks more expensive than anything I’ve ever owned. But it doesn’t look as expensive as some of the suits I see walk in here demanding coffee from me. He looks, average, except for the scary vibes he’s putting off.
My brother smiles at me, but it's tinged in sadness. My brows furrow at the look, it means he’s going to tell me something that I won’t like or agree with. He lifts his chin and the man’s gaze turns in my direction.
I freeze at the sight. His black eyes look me up and down, not in a sexy needy way, but in an assessing calculating way. He has turned from scary to downright terrifying.
“That’s her, Bexley,” Michael, my brother announces, proudly. He lifts his hand and motions me toward him.
Reluctantly, I follow his direction. My brother has been my only family since I was fourteen, and he was eighteen.
Our parents died, and instead of turning me over to family services, he took care of me. Except he did a shittier job than our drug addled parents did. I try not to hold that against him, he was as much of a kid as I was back then.
I spent my teenage years, alone and searching. Unfortunately, when you’re a young girl searching, you find yourself in sticky situations, and more often than not, dangerous ones at that.
“She will be a lovely addition. Bring her tomorrow morning, or we’ll come and get her,” the man announces.
I watch as he walks out of the coffee shop. Then, I slowly turn to my brother. He looks anxious, and guilty. “Tell me,” I hiss.
“I owe him a fuckton, Bex. There’s no way I can pay him back,” he states.
I blink, waiting for him to finish. “You’d do anything for me, right? To save me,” he pleads.
Slowly, I sit down in my seat. “What did you do, Michael?”
“You’re stronger than me, Bex. You’ll survive,” he states, nodding a few times while his knee bounces beneath the table.
I wait. His eyes cloud over before he speaks. His voice is stoic, it’s heartless, and cold. I know he’s trying to disconnect, I’ve seen him act this way with girlfriends time and time again, but I never thought he would toward me—his own sister.
“He’s going to send a couple of men to pick you up in the morning. You’ll be ready, and you’ll go with them.”
“I will?” I ask.
He nods. “Yeah, or they’ll kill us, Bexley. Not just me, both of us.”
I watch as my brother stands and walks out of the café. My boss clears his throat from behind the espresso machine and I slowly stand.
My feet shuffle toward him and I look back at my brother as he leaves the shop.
Did he just say what I think he said?
Did he sell me to someone as payment for his debts?
CONNERY
Walking into the dark room, I glance around. I don’t recognize any of the men, but that doesn’t surprise me. It seems there aren’t many repeat customers in this place. They either find what they’re looking for the first time, or they do a private deal with the owner.
The owner, Sam, has approached me more than once for a private deal. He wants to know what I’m looking for, as I’ve obviously not found it yet. I think he’s tired of seeing me walk out empty handed, which means he’s empty handed as well when I walk out.
That’s the problem though, I don’t know what I’m looking for. I am searching for something, for a new high, a new challenge. I just don’t know what it looks like yet.
The lights in the main room dim as the ten men around me take their seats. Behind the two-way glass the lights brighten, and five women are revealed. They’re made up, their faces painted, their hair styled. They all look like dolls, pretty little dolls ready to be destroyed.
They’re wearing barely there cheap panty and bra sets, with even cheaper hooker heels. They’re all young, some thinner than others, some with bigger breasts, but one thing they all have in common is that they’re all pretty.
However, none of them make my cock hard, or intrigue me. I mean if I were alone with one, I could get it up and fuck her, but I wouldn’t want to keep her.
This game, this challenge, it’s for keeps—at least for longer than a few hours. I need to make sure I make a smart investment. I can have whatever woman I want, the thrill of the chase and then dump her when I’m done, but that isn’t what this is.
The men are called into another room if they wish to continue on with their evening and bid on the five ladies in front of us. I decide to leave, instead. Sam stops me before I make my way to the door.
“Next time, bring some friends, maybe they’ll buy?”
I think about my three frien
ds, my only friends. Would they be interested in this? I don’t know, but I do know that they’re a little like me—bored and tired of the same old, same old. I lift my chin in response and walk out of the building.
Cal, my driver is waiting for me. “Nothing, Mr. Abbott?”
Shaking my head, I run my fingers through my shaggy dark blond hair. “Nothing,” I sigh.
Sliding into the back seat of the town car, I let out a breath as my head hits the back of the seat. Closing my eyes, I try not to think about the emptiness of my life.
Taking my glasses off, I set them on my knee as I rub the heels of my palms against my eyes.
Never did I think I would be looking to purchase companionship. I can get a fuck, I could pay for a hooker too if I wanted. That isn’t what I’m looking for, though. The fact is, I don’t really know what I’m looking for, either.
I have a desire.
I want her to be solely mine.
I need to have control and I’ve never found a woman who was willing to give up as much as I crave to take.
CHAPTER ONE
TWO WEEKS LATER
CONNERY
The text came through not long ago and I stared at it for a few long minutes. Did I want to do this again? Did I want my friends to see how desperate I’d become? The answer was no, on both counts, but I was still going to go.
Slipping the shirt over my shoulders, I button it and close my eyes. It’s pure silk, designer and tailored to fit my tall frame flawlessly, along with my suit as well. My shoes are designer and my glasses, the same. My mansion is spotless, my staff keeping it that way.
I have everything at the touch of my fingertips, and yet, I have nothing.
A knock sounds on my bedroom door, and I walk toward it, opening it to find my head of house standing on the other side. She’s around my own age, but she runs this place like a well-oiled machine. Her brown eyes meet mine and she smiles.
“The driver is waiting for you out front.”
I give her a smile. “Thanks, Abbi,” I wink.
Her face pinks and I wonder if she’d let me fuck her. I’ve never broached the subject because she is my employee, but I’ve been curious a time or two. I’ve seen her watch me, and she’s walked in on me with other women before, but she still blushes when she talks to me.
Shaking my head, I thank her again, and walk past her, shoving my wallet in my front pocket. Hurrying over to my home office I quickly open my safe and grab the case of cash that I always bring with me to these things. I want to be prepared, just in case I see something that I must have.
Cal is waiting next to the passenger side and as soon as he sees me he opens the door. Handing him my case, I slip inside, and close the door. I watch in the rearview mirror as he places the case in the trunk before walking over to the driver’s side.
“Directly to the club?” he asks, the routine well known for him.
I shake my head once. “Not tonight, take me to Aldrich Lowell’s, then the next stop will be Sterling Montgomery’s residence.”
He nods and shifts the car into drive. I wonder offhandedly if Sterling will find this entire thing uncouth. I’m sure that he will. He’s from proper breeding, unlike me. I’m just some white trash nerd who happened to make a fuckton in Silicon Valley.
Placing my index finger between the black thick rim of my glasses, I push them up my nose. This night should be interesting, I can feel it deep in my bones. Something is going to happen. I just wish I knew what.
BEXLEY
I run my fingers through my long blonde hair in an attempt to get the knots out. I’ve been in this room for well over a week. I actually lost count after day seven, so I’m not really sure how long it’s been. My head feels foggy, groggy, and my body feels weak. It’s almost like I’m stoned.
I’m alone, so I guess that’s a consolation. I don’t really care for people, anyway. I know I worked in customer service, but I’m really not a people person. And friends? Yeah, I’ve never had those. With Michael as my brother, constantly looking for an angle it’s hard to keep people around. Plus, he usually fucked and dumped any girl that I tried to make friends with.
My brows knit together as I think about my brother. He’s the reason I’m here. I should have just let these men kill us. The alternative seems worse than death, at least for me. I have a feeling Michael is breathing clean free air just fine.
A man walks into the room, usually he brings me food but there’s nothing in his hands today. “Stand,” he announces.
I stand but I stay in my spot. “What if I don’t agree to this? It’s not my debt, it’s my brother’s.”
His dark eyes meet mine before they travel the length of my body. His lips tip into a lascivious smirk. “You don’t go out there, then you’ll go on the street. You wouldn’t last a week, but it would be fun to watch you try,” he chuckles.
I don’t need to ask him what going on the street means. I shiver at the idea of being a hooker although isn’t that what I’m going to do here?
Nothing has been fully explained but I’m not some naïve farm girl from some sheltered home. I know my brother sold me to pay off his debts, and I have to make money somehow and the only thing that comes to mind that makes bank is sex.
“Let’s go, they’re waiting,” he grunts stepping to the side.
With shaky legs, I walk toward the door. I haven’t been outside of this room in days, and I was feeling pretty safe in there. Now, with the unknown waiting for me, I’m terrified.
I’m led into another room where there is a woman waiting. The man, closes the door behind me, as soon as I walk inside, locking it without a word. The woman is standing next to a clothing rack, and a chair.
“Sit,” she says, keeping her eyes downcast.
Making my way over to the chair, slowly, I sit down. Silently, she places her finger beneath my chin, tilting my head back and then begins to apply makeup.
“What’s happening here?” I ask on a whisper.
She shakes her head. “My job is to make you shine. Nothing more, nothing less,” she mutters.
Pressing my lips together, I allow her to continue. Obviously, she’s not going to tell me much about my situation. The last thing I want to do is get her in trouble somehow by pressing the issue.
Once she’s finished with my face and hair, she tells me to strip and hands me what looks like a few pieces of string and a barely there bra.
I frown at the lime green glittery fabric. I really don’t even like the color itself and don’t want to wear it, never mind what the outfit itself represents. Her dark eyes cut over to me and she starts to reach for my shirt.
Taking a step back I put up my hand to keep her away. I will dress for my fate even if it’s reluctantly.
Completely undressing, I pull on the microscopic panties, then put on the pushup bra and adjust the straps. The woman hands me a pair of cheap hooker heels, and I step into them as well, cursing the fact that they are at least half a size too small.
The door flies open and I turn around to see my guard staring at me. His eyes are on fire, but his face is stoic. I walk toward him, scared to death about what awaits me.
“It’s bullshit we don’t get to sample,” he mumbles.
I pretend like I don’t hear him because that’s the last thing I want him to do to me—sample me. He opens another door and I’m surprised to see a room full of other girls made up just like me. They’re all standing on small platforms and he guides me over to the empty one. Stepping up, I suck in a deep breath.
The lights brighten, and I look up, seeing nothing but a reflection of myself. I don’t look like me, at least not the me I’ve ever seen before. I’m usually not one for makeup, or having my hair so curly and styled, so this is surreal to see. I don’t know who is on the other side of the glass or what is going to happen next.
Holding my breath, I try to control my shaking knees. My stomach churns, twists and turns at the thoughts of what is coming.
CHAPTER TWO
BEXLEY
Once the lights go out, we’re hurried off of the stage and taken into a room. There are four other women here and we just look from one to the other.
A pretty, petite blonde smiles up at me “I’m Tilly,” she says, sounding far too happy for the situation.
I smirk, my go to look when I don’t know what else to do. “I’m Bexley, but everybody calls me Bex, or at least they used to,” I say, whispering my last words.
“How’d you end up here?” she asks.
My lips tip in a smile. I smile in the most awkward of situations. “It was either do this, or hook. My brother owed some guys money.”
“Families are fucking assholes,” she announces.
My eyes widen, and I nod once. “They really are,” I breathe.
“Okay girls,” a man in a tuxedo announces as he walks through the door. “One by one you will be taken to the auction block, so they can look at you a bit closer. Nobody will touch, and if they do, then they deal with Mr. Sam. Trust me, you never want to deal with him,” he murmurs. “Number One, you’re up.”
My eyes track the room as a dark-haired woman in a purple lacy bra and panty set is ushered out of the door. “This shit is real,” Tilly whispers.
I make a grunting noise. “It’s real. I’m scared to death.”