Yeehah! That’s my girl. I was wondering why you didn’t come home last night. Saying thank you to him for the car, were you?
I pulled a face.
No! I actually came over to complain about it all. But one thing led to another and now here I am. OMG. What must I do?
Okay, calm down. Where are you?
In his bathroom.
Right, take a shower, take a few deep breaths and then go right out and plonk a kiss on his mouth. Don’t freak out. Just act normal. You and I can drink copious amounts of wine later and you can tell me all about it. But quickly… before you go… how was it?
I grinned. AMAZING!
“Jane, all okay?” I realized I hadn’t even started the shower water. He must be wondering what the hell I was doing in his bathroom all that time.
“Yeah, all fine. Won’t be long.” I called out. I quickly put on the water and hopped into the shower. As I started showering I started thinking about all the places that he had touched me the night before. The way he had paid attention to every part of my body. The way I had felt when he was inside of me. I wanted to stop thinking about it, but I couldn’t. My body literally ached for him. Had I felt this way with Justin? I couldn’t remember. I had my eyes closed and I was rubbing soap all over my body, rubbing circles on my breasts when I heard his voice.
“Can I help?”
I jumped up in fright and the soap went flying down. “Sebastian. What are you doing?” I tried to cover myself up but I didn’t seem to have enough hands.
“Well, you were taking so long I wanted to see if everything was okay.”
“Everything is fine. I was just texting Danielle. To let her know why I didn’t come home.” My voice was slightly high pitched and I told myself to calm down.
He grinned at that. “Ah, the famous Danielle. And… did she ask how it went?”
“She did.” I felt so embarrassed. He was fully clothed and I was standing naked in his shower with soap all over me. I kept trying to cover myself but I knew that I was failing miserably.
“And what did you say?” He was still grinning. Man, he was cocky.
I closed my eyes, “I told her that it was amazing.”
“Oh really now?” He started taking off his clothes.
“Sebastian! What are you doing?”
“More research.”
That made me chuckle. I noticed that he was already fully erect. The sight made me happy. I liked that he wanted me again in the reality of the morning light. He stepped inside the shower with me and reached down for the soap. Then he started rubbing the soap all over my body, over my breasts, in between my legs. He turned me around so that I was flat against the wall and he washed my back, my buttocks, down my legs. He came forward and started kissing my neck, his fingers reaching inside me. The water was crashing down on us and yet we remained wet in other ways.
I kissed him on the mouth slowly. I pulled back a little. His lips met mine again, slowing even more. I leaned against him as he slid down to his knees, my hands behind his head, twisting in his hair. I gasped. He loved it, kissing hard, trailing back up to my shoulder, my neck, my mouth. His hands curled around my thighs, then trailed up my back just as slowly as the kisses had trailed to my mouth. I could feel goose bumps raise up on my arms despite the warm water. A chill was sent through my back. He smiled under my kiss and traced his fingers to my breasts, gently grabbing them.
* * *
Everything felt so sensitive. My heart was beating out of my chest. I wondered if he could feel it beneath his hand, tapping out a message in Morse code. He was still smiling. His fingers squeezed gently, making me make more noise.
* * *
He bit my lip gently. His tongue dipped into my mouth then out, licked my lips. He kissed my neck. He kissed my shoulder. Then moved his mouth down, making a trail of kissing to my chest, sending a jolt to my head each kiss he gave. My hips twisted. He let out a small breath. He was hot too. I pulled back, kissing him on the mouth.
* * *
Then he turned me around and pinned me against the wall. I reached over for his penis and gently guided it inside of me. He thrust himself against me over and over again while I held onto him for support.
He squeezed my breasts Then he reached for the soap again, which had fallen once more to the ground and we washed each other clean, stopping every now and again to kiss each other. It was both incredibly erotic and incredibly sweet.
“Now,” he said, getting up out of the bed, “I’ll go get changed. Come join me in the kitchen when you’re all done. I don’t know about you but I’m starving.”
I got changed back into my same clothes from the day before and suddenly noticed the big clock on the wall. It was as if I had been living in a dream all along and the facts of where I was and when it was suddenly came hurling down on me at once. I gasped.
“Oh no! I totally forgot. It’s Monday. And I’m already going to be late for work. I still need to go home and change. Although judging by the time I might have to go down in this. I don’t think I have enough time to get home and back. Crap! Maybe Danielle can bring me some new clothes later. Oh but how will I explain that to everyone? One minute I’m wearing this and the next minute I’ve changed. They’ll think I’ve lost my mind. I better go.”
Sebastian was just standing and grinning at me. “Why are you looking at me like that? Didn’t you hear me? It’s Monday! I have to go.”
“Yeah. So? Have you forgotten that I’m your boss? And I’m telling you – the boss will not be happy if you leave so early.”
“But Sebastian, I really do have to go to work. I’m still quite new there. I can’t just pitch up late. I’m not going to win any popularity contests by doing this.”
“Don’t worry, I have it all under control. I’ll tell them that you had a meeting with me this morning. They don’t need to know that the meeting was in my apartment. We actually did some very heavy research so it’s not like you’ll be lying. And really Jane, now that I’ve seen you in action, I must say… I think the company is in very good hands with you around. Now, you sit down. I know you get grumpy if you don’t get a decent cup of coffee and something to eat in the morning.”
I frowned at him. “Really? I’ll have you know I can go without food and coffee the whole day and still be an absolute pleasure to be around.”
“Really?” He arched his eyebrows.
“No. Not really.”
He laughed. “Well come on then, join me. Anyway, I already messaged Alison to let her know that we were in a meeting and that you’d be in a bit later today. I told her to let the team know. I made it sound as if I made you do it so that they would feel sorry for you. I also took the liberty of sending Abbie a message from your phone to say that you were going to be late and how annoyed you were at me for making you go to a meeting so early.”
I simply stared at him. “You did what?” I checked my phone. There was already a reply from Abbie.
You poor thing. I hope it’s quick. He does things like that sometimes. Likes to show his authority. But don’t worry. It’s only because you’re new. See you a bit later.
“Now, you can just relax and enjoy some breakfast with me.”
“You know, I’d like to be angry at that but I’m truly too hungry to think of anything other than food.”
I sat down and watched in amazement as Sebastian fried bacon, eggs and sausages. “I honestly didn’t peg you for the cooking type.” I admitted to him and smiled with pleasure as the smell of bacon drifted into the air.
“Ah yes, but there’s a lot you don’t know about me Miss Greiner.”
“So it seems. You know what?” I put my hands in the air as a gesture of confusion, “you confuse the hell out of me. I actually don’t think I know who you are. One minute I think I’ve got it and the next I don’t.”
He turned around and looked at me, a strange smile playing on his face. “It’s funny you say that – because that is exactly what I think about you.”
I still didn’t really know what he thought about me but I didn’t want to ask him again. “That smells so good Sebastian. And thanks for the coffee – it’s incredible.”
“It’s the same machine that we have in the bar. Just one button and you get a perfect cup.”
“Ah… the same machine that gave me the coffee that I spilled all over you. That seems like a lifetime ago.” I would never in a million years have thought that only a little while later I would be having breakfast with that very same man.
“You were so cute then. All embarrassed.”
“I was embarrassed. That was seriously one of the worst moments of my life.” I admitted.
“Ah, come on, it wasn’t that bad,” he said.
“Trust me. It was.”
“Well, it’s all forgotten now. And here we are milady, here is your breakfast. Please enjoy it.” He presented it to me with a flourish and placed it in front of me. I took a bite and grinned back at him.
“Man, this is good.”
“Unfortunately Miss Greiner, I have to inform you that this breakfast does come with a price.”
I looked up at him. “A price?”
“Yes, you see, these things do not come free. Unfortunately, I will need a little something from you once you are done. A tip, if you will.”
“A tip? And what exactly do you mean by that?” Oh how easy it was to flirt with him.
“Oh, you can decide on the specifics. The location is my bed. That is non-disputable.”
“Sebastian! I can’t! What about work?”
“Nonsense Miss Greiner. Research, remember. Research!”
I grinned. I knew that there was no way I could refuse him.
What had I gotten myself into?
The Stranger (Billionaire Matchmaker Book 1)
After selling his banking start-up to Google, Logan Davenport is officially a billionaire. He’s swimming in money and sex, and that is the way he likes it. But he needs a respectable date to his brother’s engagement party. So he finally gives in and lets his eccentric aunt, Dolly Monroe, find him a date. Much to his shock, she sets him up with an opinionated, average-looking, floral shop owner who seems impervious to his charms. Avery doesn’t want him, and that makes him want her even more. Before he knows it, he falling in love for the first time ever.
But Logan is keeping a secret. No, he isn’t married. No, he doesn’t have a child. No, he doesn’t have cancer. It’s worse than that. Much worse. And when Avery finally finds out, he risks losing the only person he has ever really cared about. Can their love survive his secret?
**WARNING: Steamy scenes, NO Cheating, HEA!
Prologue
My name is Dolly Monroe and I’m a billionaire matchmaker.
I am 5’10’’ when I’m awake and 5’5’’ when I’m asleep. I’m suspicious of women who don’t wear heels, just as I’m suspicious of people who call me out of the blue asking for favors.
I have a strict policy when it comes to my hair, one which I’ve abided to since I was a little girl in West Texas – the bigger the hair, the closer to God. My hair is as platinum as some of my clients’ records, and it perfectly offsets the 10-carat diamond ring on my left hand.
I never let my waist get bigger than 22 inches, and I do not have the same restrictions on my breast size. The girls were 36 DD three years ago, and now they’re 36 EE. Who the hell knows how big they’re going to get in another decade?
I like my men the way I like my purses: in a variety of colors and styles and with a high price tag. My husband, who’s also my high school sweetheart, doesn’t mind, of course, because my little business makes more than a hefty penny and keeps him in a 20,000 square foot Malibu beachfront house and allows him to spend his days surfing and golfing.
You see, I’ve been at this for a very long time. I was 13 the first time I did my first set up: my second cousin with my best friend from middle school. They dated through 10th grade, married in 11th, and celebrated their 40-year wedding anniversary last year.
I started my matchmaking business when I was 20 and, at first, I set up average folk like my cousins, then wealthy folk, then millionaires, and now billionaires. This is the only thing I’ve ever done, and I’m pretty damn good at it. People aren’t that different you know. Of course, billionaires come with their attitudes and highfalutin opinions of their own importance, but at their core, they want the same thing everyone else wants: for someone to give a damn about them, not just their money or power. What typically ends up being the problem, however, is that the billionaire (both men and women) think they’re going to get this thing from some 20-year-old, 5’11’’ bimbo, but that’s rarely the case. That’s where I come in.
Why do I do this?
I’m a sucker for a happily ever after. I believe everyone deserves one, and I can get it for them, if they just get out of their own way and let me.
How can I be so sure?
I have a great track record. I have successfully set up 3,988 couples. That’s more than 130 couples per year over 30 years of matchmaking. Not all of them were billionaires, but over the last five years a huge portion of them were. Close to four thousand couples now are living their happy ending because of me. It feels damn good to say that.
And then I made a mistake. I told my publisher friend about this, and she went wild.
“You have to write down some of your favorite stories, you absolutely must. People will go crazy over it!” she said.
So, that’s how we got here. This series depicts some of my favorite couples from the last few years. Their names have been changed to protect their privacy, but everything else is as true as it happened from my clients’ perspectives. Though each couple eventually found their happily ever after, the road to get there was often difficult and treacherous. But what would life be without a little intrigue and turmoil, right?
Chapter 1 - Logan
I wake up in the middle of my California king bed with a splitting headache and an aching groin. There are two women lying next to me, both dead asleep. They don’t look as gorgeous as they did last night at the club, but I’m used to women’s trickery and mystique when it comes to makeup. All those contouring tutorials on Youtube may confuse most men, but I’ve got three sisters. I know when a nose is made to look a little smaller, lips fuller, eyes larger. And that’s okay. Why not look more beautiful if you can? It’s pleasing to the eyes, even if it’s a little deceitful. But women aren’t the only liars. We all are. Men constantly lie about how much is really in their bank accounts by leasing cars that they have no business driving based on their paychecks. And why? To impress women, of course.
I’m lucky this way. I recently sold a small start-up that I founded after college to Google, and the sale officially made me a billionaire. The app allows people to make personal loans to their friends, family, and strangers just like banks and credit cards do and charge interest. It’s called BankMe, and whenever I mention the name people generally pretend to have heard of it, even though most of them haven’t. I don’t mind. It doesn’t really matter.
Threesomes are fun. I try to have a couple once or twice a month at least, because they keep me on my toes. Most men want to have two women at once, but I don’t want to be just a user. I want the women to have a good time and to enjoy themselves. So, it’s important for me to make sure that they do. Last night, however, I made a mistake. I make it a point to always fall asleep on one of the sides of the bed so that I can sneak out without waking anyone up. But last night, for some reason, I fell asleep in the middle. Now, I have to carefully climb out from beneath the blankets without waking either of them up.
I decide to go left, toward the ocean. The girl on the left is turned away from me. I carefully lift the sheet and slide out. Then I climb over her, making sure that I don’t pull the sheet too tight so I don’t risk waking her up. Just when I’m almost scot-free, she snores and turns around. I hold my breath and freeze. I’m draped over her on all fours, holding myself up by fingertips and t
iptoes. Luckily, she doesn’t wake up. A moment later, I throw my legs over her and land silently on the floor.
All of this maneuvering is an absolute requirement. I hate morning conversations and make it a point to never talk to the women who sleep over. I’m not so rude as to make them leave in the middle of the night, but I also don’t hang around to make them breakfast. Instead, I go outside, grab my board and surf until Marilyn comes by at 8 a.m. to clean, make me breakfast and kick the girls out.
Marilyn is the longest relationship I’ve ever had with a woman who isn’t related to me. Marilyn is from El Salvador, and she has been with me since I lived in a one-bedroom apartment in West Hollywood. Even back then, when I made only $2000 a month and paid about $1300 in rent, I wasn’t much of a housekeeper and chose to spend $50 a week on her rather than getting out the vacuum cleaner and doing it myself. My oldest sister likes to say that even back then I was thinking rich. Maybe she’s right.
I stumble a little down the stairs on the side of my porch. I live in a 5,000 square foot, four-bedroom house on the beach in Malibu. After the deal with Google, I can afford to upgrade, of course, but this place is enough for me right now. I love it here. The beach is only a few steps away, and it’s in the quieter part of Malibu, away from the tourists and the paparazzi. The paparazzi usually don’t bother me (who cares about rich techies, right?), but I have been out with more than a few models and celebs and now they’re starting to get a little nosy.
I grab the pair of swimming trunks that I keep under my porch along with my board and change into them right there. This has become somewhat of a habit of mine – there’s no one out here this early, and I don’t think anyone can see me under my porch. Mainly, I change out here because I don’t really give a shit. I doubt that anyone will really complain about seeing my 6’1’’ tan body, my six-pack, which looks like it has been chiseled out of stone, or my large dick.
Auctioned to Him 2: His for a Week Page 66