Baby Bargain_A Billionaire Baby Contract Romance

by Vivien Vale

  But now we’ve made that a reality. Jax is taking sexual abuse to the Senate floor, and from what I hear, he’s making headway.

  As for me? I'm happy here with Leo and don't plan on changing anything anytime soon. We've made a little love nest in the penthouse apartment. I call it home because home is wherever Leo is. We could live in a cardboard box for all I care. He'd still be mine and I would be his...forever.

  We're about to make it official but I'm no bridezilla. Leo's trying to get me to plan a really big wedding but we're married already in our hearts and minds so I don't see what the big deal is.

  If it were up to me we'd go down to the Little Vegas Wedding Chapel and get it done tonight. As it is, I think he's sweeping me away to Venice or something for the nuptials. All I care about is the honeymoon and I've made that perfectly clear. Me plus him on a beach equals Pleasure Island.

  He's staring at me now in that way of his—the one that makes me need to go change my panties—and I wonder if we'll even make it to the beds tonight or if he'll have to fuck me in the powder room of the Inner Sanctum first.

  I pretend I don't notice his gaze that's trailing me as I make my way to the bar. My silver dress hits the floor just right, making it look like I'm floating, my perfect goddess filthy only for me.

  As soon as I order my very dirty vodka martini, he's at my side whispering about all the dastardly things he plans to do to me tonight.

  "No, Leo, I'm trying to work." I pretend to give him the rub off.

  "But I want you in the penthouse wearing nothing but that garter belt I know you have on. I want to rip it off with my teeth."

  His whispered words almost make me come right here. Having Leo talk to me that way, when he tells me what he'll do, well, I have to press my legs tightly together just to avoid making a mess of my new silver dress.

  "Leo,” I say with a teasing wag of my finger, “I have to take care of Emily, my new charge. Besides the night's hardly begun."

  I wave at someone, Andrea—the CEO of a new cosmetics line called Flash that's making waves in the beauty industry. It's nice to have connections. I've previously set her up with one of my male escorts and she wasn't disappointed.

  My guys can make any woman ruin their panties upon first sight. They're all dazzling, ripped, and most of all, they know how to show my women clients the time of their lives. Many a girls’ trip happens here if they're exclusive enough to get in.

  I'm taking in my success, the business, everything—it’s beautiful, and yet I have Leo here impatiently growling in my ear that he's ready to fuck.

  "Fine, baby, let's go upstairs. I can hardly wait myself."

  He leads me out of the Sanctum through a back exit, and all the while his fingers are tracing the line of my ass.

  "Get ready for a long night, Sienna. I’m going to make you mine."

  "It always is, Leo. With you it always is. And don’t you know yet? I’ve always been yours."

  Hard Sell

  By Vivien Vale

  Copyright 2017 by Triumvirate Press

  All rights reserved

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons is entirely coincidental. This work is intended for adults only.

  Liam

  I’ve got her bent over my oversized, mahogany desk. The curvature of her back looks perfect, like a ballerina’s. I push open her legs further with my knee so that I can gain better entry.

  “Liam!” She’s screaming out my name as I slide two fingers into her throbbing, wet pussy.

  “Yes Trish, call my name, just like that,” I say through clenched teeth and ragged breathing.

  “I want you so bad Liam, you’re all I think about.”

  Of course I’m all she thinks about. I’m all most women think about, and my assistant’s no different. We started fucking a couple months ago, almost immediately after I hired her. I didn’t hire her to fuck, but she’s got a great ass, so why not?

  I unzip and push my 12-inch cock deep inside her from behind. She’s crying out my name and holding onto the sides of the desk as I pound her hard. I pull her hair so that the arch of her back is even more accentuated.

  I slide my cock in and out of her and yeah it feels good. But I’ve also had better. Trish is a placeholder, something to do to bide my time until the right one comes along. I don’t mean right as in marry, I mean right as in someone who will pique my interest enough to want to fuck her for more than a one-night stand.

  Trish is lucky because she works for me, so I naturally want to fuck her more. I don’t have to get rid of her in the morning like the women I meet out at clubs. Trust me, she’s already knows what she has to do without me telling.

  “Liam, I’m coming. Oh fuck, I’m coming so hard around your big cock.”

  I can feel her hot cum around me. It never takes long with her. She likes to be taken roughly over my desk and she comes in about a minute and then I come, because what’s the point of holding out? And then that’s it. Back to work as usual.

  Sex with her is part of her job, a task, like a paperwork she has to submit and leave at my table. When it’s done, it’s done. We don’t have to discuss it.

  She’s bucking wildly underneath me trying to draw out the pleasure and I have to settle her down. I wrap my hands around her big, fake tits and then thrust into her brazenly, with no care for her comfort or feelings. I reach my climax easily and I gasp.

  Then I pull out and spank her on the ass. Cum is dripping down her leg as she pulls up her skirt. She probably loves it, to be sitting at her desk, marinating in my cum all day. The little slut.

  As for me, I’m over it. Trish is okay but she’s nothing spectacular. I want more, I guess you could say. I deserve more. I got everything a woman would look for in a man. Trust me, I am more than any guy could hope to achieve in his lifetime.

  Now, you’d think in a city as big as Manhattan, that there’d be more women to meet my fancy. Not true. I’m as jaded as ever with the lack of options out there.

  Is it so wrong to want someone with perfect tits, an interesting mind, and a reasonable amount of passion?

  Every woman I meet feels like the same. They all run together as their personalities reflect nothing more than superfluous desires and surface talk. At this point in my life, I’m looking for something more.

  I’ve reached the apex of my career. I own the most prestigious ad agency in town, Dignity Creative. I have more money than I can count, and I bed virtually every woman I want, like my assistant here, who’s effectively wiping my cum from her leg with a tissue right now.

  So what is my problem?

  I want more. I’m bored with life. Yes, this is a billionaire’s problem, but when you’re used to being handed everything on a silver platter, where’s the challenge and adventure?

  Trish leaves and I decide to take a walk to clear my mind. I leave my penthouse office by a private elevator and tell my driver I’ll contact him later. Nothing refreshes a stagnant mind like the humming streets of NYC.

  Women look at me from all different angles as I walk the streets of Manhattan.

  I'm used to this kind of attention. The kind that comes with the territory of being this fucking gorgeous.

  I'm tall and devilishly handsome. My eyes are green like the deepest recesses of a forest, and my hair is sandy-brown, providing the perfect contrast. My light tan skin looks perfect grazing up against the Armani suit I'm wearing.

  I like to peruse the different avenues in the city to just gain greater further artistic inspiration. It’s the city of dreams for a reason. You can find everything you need here, especially if you're the creative type looking for an inspiration.

  Lately, I've been starting to feel a little bit bored with my company. Sure, I'm the CEO of the biggest ad agency in town, and I'm ruthless when it comes to business, but being at the top of the ladder sudden
ly doesn't feel so great anymore.

  I got into this business to be creative and lately, it's just been business and more business. I'm forgetting what it is that made me join in the first place.

  Unlike some people, money doesn't mean everything to me. I have so much, I could afford to take it for granted. I need to feel passion in my life and for what I'm doing or it's not even worth it.

  It's midmorning and people are walking everywhere. I take in the sites and the sounds and decide to head back to the office. I have to do this presentation later for a lingerie company called Velvet Luxe.

  Actually, Trish will be presenting my ideas but I’ll be there to make an appearance. I’m the CEO and no longer have to demean myself to making presentations for clients. They’d be lucky to have me.

  I've done enough walking for today, so I call my limousine driver to come pick me up. He's there in an instant. My driver, Paul, knows me pretty well by now and he knows what I like and don’t like, including the fact that I don't like to be kept waiting.

  He takes me back to my building in uptown. I own the whole damn thing. And the penthouse is my lair. I walk past Trish and toss her a slight nod of acknowledgement. She’s licking her lips like she already wants more.

  “What time is my meeting?” I ask her.

  “In about 15 minutes,” she says.

  Fuck. I’m late.

  “Come on Trish, grab the presentation, we gotta head downtown to Velvet Luxe.

  Even though this lingerie company should be begging me for my business, I know it’s a big deal. Every company in town is clamoring to get their attention because they’re hot and trendy right now. I hear they’re gonna be bigger than Victoria’s Secret and I’ve seen enough in this business to know how important this company could be.

  If we can land this campaign, then it will make our star shine even brighter. We're already at the upper echelon of society but this will take our future even further. Who doesn’t want to stay at the very top?

  Trish and I hurry to the limo. Doubtless I’ll be late, but that also means we can make an entrance.

  Claire

  The sunrise peaks out over the tops of huge skyscrapers and once again I wonder what I'm doing going to the office this early.

  I’m way too committed to my job.

  But every day, as I walk into the building and take in the look of the old brick façade, I feel grateful for my life.

  What started as just a dream back in college has turned into an actual, viable company: Epica. We began as a brick-and-mortar store and haven't veered too far away from that, although we’ve been booking larger companies as of late.

  I've worked very hard to achieve this little boutique ad agency. I strive to keep it small and simple, which I think is a niche in an otherwise saturated market overwhelming with huge ad agencies.

  A new client is vying for our attention today—or rather, I’m vying for their attention. The lingerie brand Velvet Luxe is looking for new representation and I’m banking everything on scoring this campaign. They're very upscale and we have to win.

  For me, it causes a flurry of nerves to swell and swirl in my stomach as I open the door to her office today. I know we have to book this job. I know our financial future is riding on it.

  Plus, the prestige of working with this kind of a company would bring a whole new range of clients to our brand. And prestige is something we need because while my little company has made a mark on the world, we are on the verge of financial collapse if I don’t take on a big client soon.

  I pull my blonde curls up into a loose bun as I power on the lights.

  I've designed the office myself. It has a loft apartment kind of vibe. There are exposed bricks, beams, and industrial elements from the original warehouse shining through.

  I'm really proud having built this place, but it's definitely not your huge typical ad agency. That's exactly the kind of atmosphere I want to have here. I want to keep the creative people happy by constantly inspiring them—either through interior design or just having a relaxed vibe around the office.

  I walk into my cozy, well-defined office and hit the cappuccino machine first. I've already been on a run this morning and now I need caffeine.

  I guess you can say that comes with my overachiever status. I like to get a jump on the day. As a design professor once told me, the morning is the most creative time to get your ideas on paper.

  The machine pumps out my espresso and I smile as I enjoy the warm aroma filling my senses. I take my cup and curl up on the deep-seated leather couch in my office.

  No one else is in yet because no one else cares about this company as much as I do. That comes with the territory of being a CEO. I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make this work.

  I guess you can say I'm a workaholic. I don't mind being called that because right now, this Velvet Luxe campaign is all I can think of. I have to gain their business for the good of my reputation and for the good of the company.

  People deserve bonuses around here. And frankly, without this new client, our company may not financially survive much longer.

  I know I have to pull this presentation together perfectly. My company, Epica, and everyone’s livelihood depend on it being a success.

  I’d like to say that nothing gets the creative juices flowing better than the early morning vibe, but really everything that’s motivating me right now is the thought of keeping this company afloat…

  I start drafting and coming up with more ideas. Too much information is better than not having enough when it comes to things like this. Clients are willing to pay, but they want to get what their money’s worth.

  I brainstorm and sketch and try to perfect the Velvet Luxe presentation. I spend a few hours in the morning light defining my ideas more thoroughly, so they're ready to meet with the Velvet Luxe executives today. I have a big meeting with them downtown and I want everything to be organized and ready to go.

  Charlotte, my assistant and best friend, comes into the building at her usual 8 o'clock hour. She's not surprised to see me in here. Half the time, I spend the night in my office.

  "Hey, you're here, early again," she says.

  She eyes my empty cappuccino cup and offers to take it. I don't resist.

  "Thanks Charlotte, I really need that. I guess you can say I'm a little nervous about getting the campaign."

  "Well, I think you're gonna do great. You always outshine the big guys anyway, just don't forget that," she says reassuringly.

  "Thanks. That means a lot.”

  She looks at me knowingly.

  “You’re worried aren’t you?”

  “Yes,” I say as I look glumly down at my sketches.

  “Everything’s riding on this. I can’t mess up.”

  “It’s okay to be nervous, but when have you ever cared about going up against the big ad agencies?”

  “Um, when the financial future of this company totally depends on me landing a client,” I answer her.

  “Just don’t think too much of it that way,” she says reassuringly. “Imagine it like the times you outshine the big companies by just being you, and doing what you do best.”

  I smile. She has a way of cheering me up.

  “Now, let me get you some more caffeine and you can work until your meeting later.”

  “You’re my saving grace.”

  She really is. Charlotte keeps this business running while I focus on all things creative. Without her, I’d be lost. She makes sure I pay attention to my calendar, my bills, and all the other parts of running a business that I feel are less important than my creative work.

  I work for another hour or so sculpting my ideas. I don't even notice the time when Charlotte walks back into my office.

  “It’s time,” she says.

  I look up from my computer.

  “Already?”

  I scramble to pull together all my notes and computer and anything else I might need. I stuff it all into my vintage leather satchel and the
n I pull a black suit jacket over the silky, white camisole that’s tucked into my pencil skirt.

  “Do I look okay?” I ask Charlotte.

  “Everything except the pencil in your hair,” she laughs.

  I reach up and feel the sharp point sticking through my bun. I take it out and with it all my blonde hair comes tumbling down over my shoulders.

  “Better?” I ask.

  “Yes, here’s your green tea. I have an Uber waiting for you downstairs.”

  “Oh, thanks Charlotte,” I say as I gather up my things.

  “And Claire, good luck!”

  Claire

  I feel very out of my element.

  I'm downtown, in a big box building, with a lot of executives.

  Most people in my position—those from a little agency like mine—might be sweating under the pressure, but not me. I have no trouble working with that extra energy pumping in my veins.

  This is what I live for. I like to take the business away from the big sharks. There's something that gets me off about knowing that I can bring high-quality clients into the boutique range of advertising.

  For now, the meeting is going well. We're all seated around a very long glass conference table in a very prestigious building. All the big guns are here, trying to land this big campaign for Velvet Luxe.

  It's a lingerie company that's gaining traction every year.

  For me and my little company, it would be a very big steal and a great amount of business. This is the big break we’re waiting for; it would set us up for life to have a company like this under our belt.

  It's my turn at the front of the room to present my very rough proposal. With nothing decided yet, it's hard to know what to go on, what the client needs. I have to second guess what specifics the company might like.