Bought: A Bad Boy Romance

by Molly Thorne

  I bought you because I saw an opportunity. But then you turned the tables on me, and got my heart for free.

  You saved me, Lara Everwood, because you saw beyond the numbers. You saved me because you believed in what you couldn’t see. And so, I’m making you a promise.

  Lara Everwood, I promise that I won’t ever be good. I will crush, tear and tip, as long as I’m doing it to protect you. And I’ll let you crush, tear and rip my worst enemy: my ego.

  Lara Everwood, I promise that I will always lose. I will come to you in an Armani suit, riding an expensive car, wearing a watch costing a fortune, and I will end up standing before you vulnerable and naked.

  Lara Everwood, I promise that we’ll never settle. Loving each other is all fine and dandy, but we won’t let the spirit of the shark die. I promise that you’ll suffer, you’ll stress out, you’ll despair, you’ll curse and you’ll cry, but you’ll never be bored.

  I love you, Lara Everwood, and now that I see tears in your eyes, I love you even more. This is my promise to you: I will never let another man make you cry.

  THE END (... but read on!)

  Thanks for reading Bought! We at Eros Shrugged Publishing hope that you’ve enjoyed the book. If you did, you’ll be delighted to know that Molly Thorne has teamed up with bestselling author Natasha Tanner to bring you a new sexy bad boy romance!

  You’ll see some characters from Bought pop up in this new book, full-length novel SOLD: a billionaire bad boy mafia romance. Most notably, you will identify the female main character, Vanina Vokhtazin. Get to know her story and find out how she found her second chance with a new, biggest, badass, dangerous bad boy!

  Check it out!

  ABOUT MOLLY THORNE

  Molly Thorne is a new voice in the literary romance landscape. She likes her fiction with a rough edge, and that’s why she teamed up with Danielle Slater to write about bad boys. Now she’s joined forces with bestselling author Natasha Tanner to continue bringing you stories about dangerous but irresistibly charming men.

  Stay tuned for more stories by Molly!

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  Please see her Author Central Account on Amazon for a full list of her titles.

  Would you like to join the exclusive Molly Thorne Street Team and receive free advanced copies of her latest releases in exchange for an honest review?

  Sign up here!

  ALSO BY MOLLY THORNE

  SOLD (the Goldenhearts series / book 2) (with Natasha Tanner)

  Read on for an excerpt!

  COMING SOON BY MOLLY THORNE

  OWNED (the Goldenhearts series / book 3)

  ABOUT DANIELLE SLATER

  Danielle Slater writes romance stories involving the men we hate to love, and love to hate: the bad boys. She has always been drawn to them, whether she wanted to or not, and loves to tell stories on different relationships that have a multitude of consequences for both the hero and the heroine. She hopes to become a full time writer, and currently resides in San Francisco as a secretary for a small law firm. Her goal is to entertain and move readers through her writing, and hopes you enjoy each and every story along the way.

  ALSO BY DANIELLE SLATER

  MADE (with Allegra Ryan)

  ENTITLED (with Roxy Sinclaire)

  Please see my Author Central Account on Amazon for a full list of my titles.

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  Visit me on the web: www.danielleslater.com

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  Would you like to join the exclusive Danielle Slater Street Team and receive free advanced copies of my latest releases in exchange for an honest review?

  Sign up here!

  An excerpt from

  SOLD

  “Do I look like Rachel Weisz to you?”

  He turns in the bed to face me, his hard muscles pushing the sheets around, and gives me a funny look. “N-no. Not at all.”

  “Steve told me once that he thought my photo in the website was fake because I look like Rachel Weisz.”

  Ace keeps silent for a few moments. It’s been more than a month since I called him from the Central Park. He went for me as soon as he got the message, but not before I spent a full hour meandering around in fear of seeing Piotr again. His face... has become surly, dangerous. I feared for my life. And in that moment, I could only think of the man who could protect me. He’s kept me here with him, in his house in Grey Gardens, until things get sorted out. We go out sometimes, but we need to take lots of precautions. Things are heating again in Frisco, Pip says, and Ace is watching out for Piotr and his eventual friends.

  “You don’t look like Rachel Weisz to me. At all,” Ace replies finally. “But it’s weird that you say that. The first time I saw you, I thought you looked like Rhonda, but Jack Starr said that you looked like someone he once knew. An old girlfriend.”

  “So I am the woman with many faces?” I chuckle. But he is serious, staring at me as if he was having a deep epiphany.

  “It’s your eyes,” he says, finally. “You don’t actually, physically look like other women. It’s only that for everyone else, looking into your eyes makes us...”

  “Mistake me for another?”

  “... happy.”

  A warm, fuzzy feeling in my stomach. He can be so sweet... I’d fuck him right now.

  And why not? We are lying on the bed, after all.

  “I can make you happier,” I declare, rolling on my side to climb upon him. He seems fond of the idea.

  “Do you think I deserve it?”

  “I don’t know, but I do deserve it.” I explore his body with mine until his rapidly growing mound and my eager cavity, both still trapped under our underwear, interlock in a sweet embrace. I start rubbing myself back and forth, closing my eyes and concentrating on the awesome sensations. Soon I am moaning like I was impaled in his big cock, but I have my panties still on, and his boxer shorts are still covering his manly marvel.

  “Oh, Van,” he sighs, grabbing my hips and biting his lip as if trying to control his strength to avoid breaking me in two. His hands climb up my torso, then cup my breasts, sending a hot tingling signal all over my body.

  “Does this make you happy?” I ask, biting my lip too, then grabbing one of his hands and putting his index finger in my mouth. With that finger inside, as I run my tongue all around it, I repeat the question, this time muffled: “Does this make you happy?”

  “It does,” he says, with his voice strong and weak at the same time. “It fucking does.”

  With my other hand, I set aside my panties so that I will be free to mount him properly. I fumble with his shorts, and after a while, I am able to liberate his cock as well. He laughs and sighs. I bite his finger playfully and sit on his member, aligning its wide, hard shaft with my soft, hungry slit. “Does this make you happy?”

  “It... it does,” he answers. He sits up to reach my breast that is free from his hand. I know what’s about to come. He reaches it with his mouth and encircles it softly with his lips, his stubble tickling the orb, his saliva covering the nipple in a warm bath. It goes erect instantly, and when he starts sucking, I have to bite his finger much harder in order to avoid screaming in pleasure.

  “Does this... does this m-make you—”

  “Happy?” he finishes, raising my body with one hand and thrusting his cock inside me. He lets go of me and lets gravity do its job. I slide over the huge, powerful thing and my whole body shakes in arousal. “You bet.”

  “Oooh,” I moan, as my warm, wet flesh closes around his, and prepare to initiate the motion, up-down, up-down, up-down, swallowing it like a machine of heavenly friction. “It does... aaah... it does make me h-h-happy too.” The last syllables come out as sighs, since I am out of breath already.

  Ace Hart lets go of my breast and applies his mouth to the other. Meanwhile, I move my body up and down, realizing what I had just anticipated. It’s delicious and so hot I think my pussy will melt around his dic
k.

  He starts pounding on me harder and faster, for what it seems like an hour. With each thrust, I feel all my being a bit closer to an incredible climax, but the climax is coming slowly, sweetly, aligning perfectly with my desire like a prophecy.

  As we both approached our release, his member pulsating inside me with every inch it advances and recedes, my flesh vibrating in unison, I keep biting his finger, and claw at his hairy chest with my long, sharp nails. The pain seems to make him even more excited, and in the end, he’s yelling with each thrust, just as I scream in indescribable pleasure. We both come at the same time, and keep moving and rubbing until the last waves of arousal give way to a delightful sopor.

  The last thing I think before falling asleep on him, with his manhood still inside me, is: Holy fuck, I love this man.

  Want to keep reading? Check out this hot story by Natasha Tanner & Molly Thorne!

  An excerpt from

  MADE

  The club reeks of luxurious perfumes, sex, and a light overlay of sweat. The odors swirl below my nose. I take a sip of my martini and let the icy liquid trickle slowly over my tongue. I think about taking a man home, putting him in my mouth, feeling his girth and his heat. I let my gaze wander across the crowded space, skipping from one expensive suit to another. A few of the men fill out the sleek cuts of their silk and wool suits with massive shoulders and impressive pecs. My eyes linger on them. I have a weakness for big men who make me feel petite. What would it be like if I wore the red shoes? What kind of man would play a game like this?

  That’s when I suddenly understand: this deal must appeal to men who have everything, men who can buy anyone. They don’t merely want a night with a young and beautiful woman. They can have that easily; probably have more opportunities than they have time for. The staid business address in New Jersey offers an experience, something unique; one they can’t have anywhere else or with anyone else.

  What would that mean for the young woman who slides her feet into a pair of special shoes?

  Butterflies in my stomach...

  If I were wearing the red shoes right now, he’d be here in the club, somewhere, watching. Would he show himself to me right away? Or make me wait? Will he stalk me like a hunter only to take me without warning...

  My nipples go tight imagining my fantasy mystery man and if he’s wondering how my tits will feel in his hands, how my pussy will get wet for him. Will he get hard just looking at me? Heat rushes from my pussy up my belly and across my chest.

  “I don’t know what they put in that drink, but oh girl, it must be good.” Caylee’s words jolt me from my reverie.

  I toss her a sheepish grin and realize I’m blushing. She grins right back at me. “Admit it, you were thinking about sex, the really, really hot kind; the kind you dream about; the kind you need. Am I right?” When I don’t answer, she waves a hand at me. “Oh, don’t bother. I know I’m right.”

  It’s my turn to shrug as I try to act casual. Fat chance of pulling that one off when I’m feeling anything but casual.

  Reality check, Brooke. You’re too cautious to take a risk. Nobody delivered expensive red shoes to your door and no one in this place has looked twice at you, not to mention the fact you’re way too practical and conservative to show up at a random office in Jersey and sign a freaking contract.

  Try telling that to my body. The ache between my legs is still pumping sexual energy into my veins like a drug. I could probably get off if a man dragged his gaze over me too long.

  Which is pretty sad when you think about it.

  Caylee laughs at my obvious discomfort and kicks back the last of her drink. Her eyes are bright; her cheeks flushed. I’m about to suggest we head down to the main floor when a guy in a dark suit comes up behind her. He’s there only long enough to slip something into her hand before disappearing again into the crowd.

  She stills, her eyes going wide. “This is it!” She opens her palm, revealing a burner phone. A red light blinks and then a line of text marches across the screen. After studying it, she holds the phone, so I can see the screen. It looks like a regular incoming call message, except there’s a red button for accept and a blue button for decline.

  She flips the phone around and her finger hovers over the red button.

  Fear clutches at my throat. I have this feeling something bad is going to happen. “Wait! This is too strange. You don’t know enough. You haven’t even seen the guy or talked to him. That’s not a real choice.”

  She shakes her head slowly, seeming a little dazed, maybe from finishing her drink too fast. “I already signed the contract. I can’t say no. I have to do this.”

  “But wait—”

  Before I can grab the phone away from her, she stabs the red button. We both freeze, staring at the screen. For a few long seconds, nothing happens. Then a green text message pops up: Report to the east door. Mr. Daniels will escort you from that point.

  She turns in a circle. “Which way is east?”

  While I’m trying to get my bearings, a tall guy who looks like an MMA fighter stuffed into an expensive dark suit appears at Caylee’s elbow.

  “Miss Bennett?” he inquires. He’s not wearing a nametag, but I assume he’s the Mr. Daniels from the text message.

  She half turns, staring up at him while at the same time reaching back toward me and shoving the burner phone into my hand. I take it and manage not to fumble. Fortunately, Mr. Daniels is preoccupied with Caylee and doesn’t appear to notice what she’s done. His voice is deep, and he’s speaking too softly for me to hear, but Caylee hangs on every word.

  The guy finishes his spiel and turns to go. Before following him, Caylee pivots quickly, pulls me into a fierce hug, and whispers into my ear, “Hold onto the phone for me, okay?”

  Then she’s off. I watch her follow the big man across the club until they pass through a door marked with gold letters, VIP.

  I shove the phone into my bag while muttering to myself how ridiculous the whole situation is, including my irrational fears, which have no basis in reality. The truth is that my friend is going on an adventure and will probably have fabulous sex and come home a whole lot richer. Even Samantha is probably having a better time than I am—assuming she was telling the truth about spending the night at her friend’s house. I should call and check up on her, but I want to trust her; I need to trust her. So I’ve told myself I’m going to do just that until she gives me a solid reason to do otherwise. Meanwhile, I’m standing here like I’m 24-going-on-80 and worried bad things will happen if I stay out past my bedtime.

  Fuck that.

  I decide Caylee is right. I need a night out, and I’m here. Why waste an amazing dress or a hot club filled with even hotter guys?

  Oh my, check out that one...

  Want to keep reading? Check out this hot story by Danielle Slater & Allegra Ryan!

  An excerpt from

  ENTITLED

  I step into the private restroom, take a deep breath, and call my friend.

  “I can’t do it,” I rush before Monique has the chance to pop out a greeting. “I can’t spend the evening with him. I just can’t.”

  The tiled bathroom floor receives the brunt of my agitation, as pacing seems to calm my nerves a bit, but not enough.

  “Calm down,” she orders. “What did he do? I got bail money under the mattress, if I have to come beat his ass.”

  “He’s been a perfect gentleman,” I nearly yell in disbelief. “His father had me pumped up to meet this pompous, anger-filled miscreant, and Devlin is nothing of the sort. He bought me clothes, paid for hair and makeup and a limo just to have me stand by his side while he showered me with compliments all night!”

  “The dog,” Monique exhales sarcastically. “I’m going to tell you like Ms. Agnes would—carry yourself right back in there and enjoy that man.”

  “You don’t understand. I can’t do that. He’s been too sweet for me to keep leading him on.”

  “So he’s getting to you?” Moniq
ue says. “It’s alright to care about him as a person. You’re helping him become better.”

  I shake my head.

  I have crossed so many lines already.

  “I have to tell him what I do and why I am here. I need to confess,” I say.

  I look at myself in the mirror.

  “And what about Ms. Agnes? What about getting the office space that you need?” she says. “You’ve more than outgrown that broom closet at the community center. Focus on the goal.”

  A knock at the door startles me.

  “You all right in there?” Devlin’s smooth voice, and the image of his tall, handsome body leaning against the door, coming to check on me, cause the flutters return as though they’d never been absent.

  “Why does he keep being so nice?” I whisper to Monique.

  Devlin knocks again.

  “Ayron,” he calls.

  “He’s outside of the door,” I snap into the phone while searching through the small space for a window, porthole, trap door or something. “I can’t face him again, Mo.”

  “Do I need to call an ambulance?” he asks.

  “I’m all right, Devlin,” I squeak.

  “You can do this, Ayron,” Monique reassures. “The ends will justify the means.”

  Ending the call with Monique, I open the door to Devlin.

  “Is everything all right?” He examines me, his gorgeous brows furrowed. He places a steady hand on my cheek. “I thought you may have done a disappearing act on me, until coat check said they saw you slip in here.”

  “I’m fine,” I stutter, lost in the feeling of his caress.

  “I wish that I could say the same.”

  “What’s wrong?” It is my job to worry about him, to comfort him.

  “I need you. This—” His mouth is against mine before I can speak.