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Billionaires of Lust

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Cassandra Pearson is content with her life. She gets to write sweet romances for a living, lives in a great apartment, and can choose what she does with her days, which includes going to her favorite coffee shop and second-hand bookshop. Her life takes a sudden dramatic turn when her agent gives her an ultimatum: start writing steamier romances or her contract won't be renewed. At twenty-four, Cassandra is still a virgin and has never even been kissed. She has never found anyone who made her want to pop her cherry, and she's happy being single. However, if she still wants to live the life she has grown accustomed to, she needs to find a way to increase her sexual experience or risk her contract. When Marcus, the well-known hottie at her favorite coffee shop, offers to help her with the dilemma, she reluctantly agrees. However, she finds herself unprepared for the erotic world she steps into... Marcus Levine, a billionaire and playboy, has had his eye on Cassandra for a while. However, the plump beauty barely acknowledges his existence. She's different from other women and intrigues him to the point of obsession. When he overhears her conversation about her lack of sexual experience, he believes it's the perfect way to get closer to her and finally satisfy his thirst for her. Aiden, his best friend, joins in seducing her, believing it's only a physical relationship. But what happens when they break their own rule of never falling in love and start to fall for her?

Chapter 1

Please note this story contains explicit detail throughout (eg BDSM, etc)

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Cassandra

The low buzzing sound of people chatting met my ears as soon as I entered my favourite coffee shop, Last Brew. Natural light filtered through the large windows, bathing the reasonably sized area in a soft warm glow that complemented the earthy tones of the walls, décor and furniture. It was cozy and relatively quiet on most days-- just how I liked it.

Making my way to my usual spot in the corner strategically closest to the cake display case, I waved at the slightly Goth-like waitress who had just spotted me. Amanda grinned in greeting, unable to wave back because her hands were full of what looked like iced coffee, an open chicken sandwich, a piece of lemon meringue pie and the coffee shop's popular baked cheesecake.

"Yum," I mumbled, my resolve to stay away from sugar crumbling.

I wanted to challenge myself and get through at least one week without the addictive drug, but I didn't factor in getting my periods and craving everything I vowed to stay away from. My menstrual cycle was pretty irregular, so waking up with a bloody patch on the bed wasn't uncommon. Other women had some sort of warning about their oncoming period or could track their cycle, but I just went with the flow. Literally.

Placing my bag on the table, I pulled out my laptop, notebook and new coloured gel pens. I was a sucker for stationery. I couldn't pass a stationery shop without going in and buying something, even if it was a cute little eraser. My current obsession was finding new pens to add to my Faber-Castell collection. I recently purchased their watercolour markers and was having fun experimenting with them, but I knew I would soon lose interest, so I need something else to keep me occupied.

Reaching into my bag, I felt around for my headphones. The coffee shop liked to play Indie music, which I didn't mind, but it wasn't helpful for writing. I preferred my carefully compiled music list that catered to my moods and stories.

I groaned when my hand couldn't feel a distinct headphone shape. Instead, I found a bunch of chocolate wrappers and scraps of paper-- I really need to clean out my bag. Removing my hand, I sighed in disappointment. I had obviously forgotten my headphones at home.

"There goes my concentration,"I muttered, running a frustrated hand through my shoulder-length, pale blonde hair.

I didn't feel like going all the way back to my apartment, especially when it had taken me much longer than usual to get ready. Stripping a bed, throwing my bloody sheets and covers in the washing machine, before soaking my white pyjama pants and underwear in a mixture of washing powder and stain remover, took up the better part of my morning.

Resigned to having a lesser productive day, I settled in my seat with another sigh and opened my laptop. I was definitely going to need something sweet to make up for a challenging morning.

"Hey, Cass," Amanda greeted, appearing near my table, her bright blue hair contrasting with her pale skin. "You're later than usual."

"Hi, Amanda," I replied, smiling as I adjusted my glasses. "I had a slow morning. Just one of those days."

I had also woken up later than usual because I spent the night and early hours of the morning finishing a book I couldn't put it down. It was a fantasy/romance story about a fae prince who fell in love with a human girl but was already betrothed to a fae princess from another kingdom. The story was sweet and had me on the edge of my seat pretty much throughout the book. The late night was also probably why I didn't feel my pants growing wet.

Usually, I was a light sleeper and often woke up in the middle of the night because of small disturbances. Someone entering my room or a neighbour pacing across their wooden floors in the middle of the night was enough to keep me from my slumber.

Amanda grinned knowingly. "By 'one of those days,' you mean you spent the entire night reading, right?"

I chuckled. She had hit the nail on the head with that one. While I had never hung out with Amanda, she seemed to know my habits rather well.

"Yeah, pretty much," I replied flicking my hair away from my face. I usually used a head band to tame the curly mass, but I had forgotten it in my haste to get to the coffee shop. "Am I that predictable?"

"After two years of serving you drinks and stuff?" she said." Yeah, you are a little predictable, but in the best way possible. So what will it be? The usual to start you off?"

"Definitely," I said with feeling. "Thanks."

Amanda nodded, her hair swinging as she walked away. I admired her slender form, especially how she could wear a short skirt and tank top so easily. My thick thighs, pudgy belly and fat arms could never look that great.

Sighing inwardly, I briefly looked around the coffee shop, noting the regulars. Mr. Peterson, a neighbour from my apartment building, had his hairy nose buried in a newspaper and his cane dangerously extended past his table. It tended to get in everyone's way, often tripping unsuspecting people. He never heeded anyone's pleas to tuck it away somewhere safe, and no one dared to get into an argument with him. He was a veteran whose very demeanor commanded respect from everyone, so people just tried to steer clear of him.

A few university students sat scattered, all guzzling copious amounts of coffee while they worked through their assignments. I didn't attend university because my parents had lacked the funds, and I didn't feel like getting into student debt just for a degree. Instead, I worked and took an online creative writing course to brush up on my storytelling skills.

Being a romance writer was a dream come true for me. The day I picked up my first Mills & Boons book at the tender age of twelve steered me toward a love of romance stories with rich, powerful men who fell head over heels for the heroine and changed their lives forever.

The women were always slender with curves, had beautiful eyes and skin, and just seemed perfect. Because I knew that my five foot one height and size twelve body would never attract the sort of men I read in books, I decided that making a perfect world through writing was the next best thing.

Six books later, and finally finding an agent willing to take me on after being rejected too many times to count, I had a publishing deal that allowed me to become a full-time writer. I wasn't wealthy by any means, but I lived comfortably in a two-bedroom apartment and could work at my own pace. I was pretty much living my dream life.

Getting down to work, I opened the story I was editing. Like all the popular romance stories these days, my male protagonist was a billionaire and hot as sin. I wanted to do a curvy heroine, but my agent insisted I keep her a size two because it worked better for the story. I begged to differ, but she was my agent for a reason, so I followed her advice and created a waif-like heroine with an innocent face that evoked protective instincts in all men.

I didn't quite get through the first page before Amanda returned with my usual order. My eyes lit up, my taste buds already anticipating the delicious icy beverage.

"I've got your first mocha freeze of the day right here," said Amanda, placing it on the table. She slowly looked up and paused, her eyes taking on a dreamy look. "Oh my god. Mr. Hottie just walked in!"

I didn't bother to look. Mr. Hottie was known by everyone in the coffee shop because people couldn't help but admire so much beauty in one man. If Adonis and Aphrodite had had a child together, Mr. Hottie would have been their son.

From memory, I recalled his thick, wavy chestnut hair that was always perfectly styled and made a person want to run their fingers through it, just to muss its up. Mr. Hottie's striking gray, hunter-like eyes definitely increased his sexual appeal, giving him that predator edge that probably had women dropping their panties. His neat beard added to that edge, allowing a bit of ruggedness to his overly perfect features.

Once, I had seen him smile while on the phone, and had felt a little tingle in my lower belly. His full, sensual lips had been stretched into a smile that said: "Resist me if you can." Amanda often said he was sex on wheels, and honestly, he was precisely the type of man I described in my stories. Mr. Hottie was undoubtedly a walking hazard for women everywhere.

Not me, though. I already knew he was out of my league, and I wasn't one to salivate over real men. I preferred fictional men. Sad but satisfying for a twenty-four-year-old virgin who was probably destined to die alone because I went running at the first hint of anyone showing interest in me. I didn't know what it was, but the entire idea of a relationship scared the hell out of me.

Chapter 2

"I would gladly give that man all my holes and let him bless me with a golden shower," said Amanda, drawing me out of my thoughts. She bits her lower lip rather lewdly, staring lustfully at the unsuspecting man. "Bouncing quarters off that jawline and ass would be a breeze."

Amanda said the oddest things at times, and I usually let it go over my head, but the golden shower part had me intrigued. It was definitely something sexual, but it didn't ring any bells for me. What I knew about sex could probably fill one A5-sized page.

"What the heck is that?" I asked.

"What?"

"A golden shower."

Amanda grinned. "You're pretty innocent, aren't you?" she said, tossing her blue dyed hair over her shoulder. "Tell me, what is the craziest thing you've ever done during sex?"

Shifting slightly, I tried not to look like the innocent I was. "I'm pretty sure it's nowhere near as exciting as your intimate life," I replied. "So what is a golden shower?"

Amanda l

Heroes

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