The Billionaire and The Virgin
Page 1
Table of Contents
Prologue – Jackson
Epilogue - Dahlia
Prologue - Paige
Prologue – Angelo
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
The Billionaire and the Virgin
Bella Love-Wins
Contents
Blurb and Author’s Notes
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1. Prologue – Jackson
2. Dahlia
3. Jackson
4. Dahlia
5. Jackson
6. Dahlia
7. Jackson
8. Dahlia
9. Jackson
10. Dahlia
11. Jackson
12. Dahlia
13. Jackson
14. Dahlia
15. Jackson
16. Dahlia
17. Jackson
18. Dahlia
19. Dahlia
20. Jackson
21. Dahlia
22. Jackson
23. Jackson
24. Epilogue - Dahlia
ANGELO - A BILLIONAIRE ROMANCE
Blurb
Prologue - Paige
Prologue – Angelo
Paige
Angelo
Paige
Paige
Angelo
Paige
Paige
Angelo
Angelo
Paige
Angelo
Paige
Angelo
Angelo
Angelo
Paige
Angelo
Paige
Angelo
Paige
Angelo
Paige
Angelo
Angelo
Paige
Angelo
Paige
Angelo
Paige
Angelo
Paige
Angelo
TAKEN FOR THE FIRST TIME
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
PUNISHED
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
PARTY FEVER
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
About Bella Love-Wins
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The Billionaire and the Virgin
Copyright © 2017
Bella Love-Wins
All rights reserved.
Blurb and Author’s Notes
BLURB
Jackson
I caught her trespassing on my property. That makes her mine.
The world tilted a little on its axis the second that innocent little country girl appeared from the other side of the privacy glass on my penthouse terrace. Everything changed. Her timing couldn’t be any worse, but the second she climbs onto my balcony, I have to have her.
Her name is Dahlia.
My doll.
Now, she’s my property.
She doesn’t know it yet, but Dahlia is about to be owned.
Dahlia
The bossy billionaire wants to make me pay.
The first time I laid eyes on Jackson Knight, the bossy billionaire next door, he gave me an intense, panty-dropping stare with those mesmerizing sky-blue brooding eyes.
The second time, I trespassed onto his penthouse balcony to retrieve a wayward, high-strung Shih Tzu I was pet-sitting for his neighbor.
Jackson warned me never to do that again, or next time he’d punish me and make me pay.
Well, dogs will be dogs.
It happened again.
And I found out he wasn’t lying about punishing me.
Now I’m naked and tied to Jackson’s bed. Any minute now, I’ll have to tell him that I’m a virgin.
*Authors’ Notes:
- The Billionaire and the Virgin is a standalone romance with no cliffhangers and a guaranteed happy ever after ending. This is a bad boy billionaire meets virgin romance.
- This book includes the following extra standalone stories, free just for you:
Angelo: A Billionaire Romance
Taken for the First Time
Punished
Party Fever
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1
Prologue – Jackson
Dahlia’s been mine since the second I saw her.
My doll.
She opened her mouth to whisper something, but I stop her by taking her lips for the kiss I’ve been waiting all week to give her. I wrap a hand around her waist, gripping the small of her back as my tongue parts her lips. She molds to my chest as much as she can with her bindings, yielding to each swish of my tongue as I explore every contour of her mouth. Tasting her for the first time is more intense than I expect. I want to cover every inch of her body with mine and impale her hard without holding anything back.
Moving deeper into the kiss, I support my weight with one arm and stretch out beside her. She can’t turn to face me, but she does what she can with her legs, sliding one up and down between my ankle and calf through my pants. I have to pull away, so that I don’t end up ripping off my clothes and
burying my cock deep inside of her. The entire night is ahead of us, so I plan to pace myself and taste every inch of her before I fuck her hard.
I pull apart from our kiss, and smile as she takes a breath and runs her tongue over my bottom lip, eager to continue. I’m just as ready to devour those lips again. Raising off the bed, I move to the spot between her knees, parting them to make room as I bury my hands into her long, raven tresses, and tilt her head up sharply, crashing my mouth over her lips.
Her feet slide up the bed, and she presses her thighs against the outside of my legs. Heat radiates from her center and in an instant, I’m rock hard. Gripping her back with one hand, I lower my torso and hips to her body, letting my full weight rest on her as I grind my cock at her barely legal pussy, separated only by my boxers and slacks.
Dahlia is hardly breathing, surviving on the lungful of air we share, and manages a whimper that sounds like words. I want to stifle out the sound, to keep this kiss going, but she repeats the words.
“Sorry, what?” I ask, pulling from her mouth to let her speak.
“I said, I haven’t been with a man…like this. I just wanted you to know.”
There’s no stopping the ringing in my ear that sounds like I’m in the middle of a room during a five-alarm blaze. Lifting up off her torso, I study her face. “Did you just say you’re a—”
“A virgin,” she answers, finishing my sentence. “Yes. I’m…that.”
A slew of questions starts to surface, along with two urges fighting each other in every single cell in my body. The one hardwired to my dick wants to end her virgin status right this second. Right here in my bed.
2
Dahlia
“Be good, you hear? Or there won’t be any special treats for my darlings. Give me a kiss, babies. Give Mommy a kiss. I love you all.”
Is Vivian ever going to leave?
I nod repeatedly with a polite smile lifting my lips. This is my attempt to keep a look of professionalism on my face as my part-time boss, Vivian Chandler, lowers to the floor to dole out embraces and kisses to her little ones in the hallway outside her penthouse condo front door. Well, not all so little. She still babbles on and on to me with instructions about her fur babies before she flies off for a three-week trip to Europe. Preston, one of the more senior condo concierge staff, waits patiently with her mountain of designer suitcases stacked on a shiny gold-plated rolling luggage rack at the elevator on the opposite wall.
After some more cuddling, the pampered pooches go back to what they were doing. Vivian rests her Salvatore Ferragamo designer handbag on the threshold and starts to put on her plush, all-cream fur coat. That’s progress.
“All the emergency numbers are in the email I sent you, and in the top drawer beside the fridge,” she reminds me again. “And upstairs in the dogs’ room.”
“I’ve got them right here in my cell,” I tell her, pulling my phone from the pocket of my sweatpants. “And the dog monitoring app is installed from the last few times I was here. Even while I’m on campus, I’ll know what they’re up to, and I’ll be close enough to get here fast if they need anything.”
“Great, and don’t hesitate to put them up in their playroom if you’re at school for more than a couple of hours. It’s one of the few doors Daisy still can’t open on her own. Just remember to fill the food and water dispensers, and they’re all set to stay in there for a while.”
“Sure. I’ll do that.”
“But make sure you take them out after they eat and drink. We want to minimize any accidents…especially on my Persians on the landing.”
“Got it.”
Vivian stares longingly past me at her three pets. Sheba, a tan-colored Shih Tzu, is at the far end of the expansive condo living area, bouncing off the floor every so often as he paws at the all-glass sliding door to the balcony. Bailey, a white Bull Terrier, is waiting in the middle of the marble foyer, sitting dutifully beside Daisy, the black-and-white spotted Great Dane that stands at almost my full five-foot-six in height. Like I said, not so little.
“I’ll take great care of them, Ms. Chandler,” I say for the hundredth time. “I promise.”
“And you’re sure you don’t mind sleeping here while I’m gone?” she asks with concern as she picks up her purse again, eyes fixed on her pets while distractedly sliding the leather straps over her shoulder.
“Not at all,” I say, beaming. And my expression is authentic, too, because who wouldn’t want to stay in a multi-million-dollar penthouse condo instead of a tiny, cramped Brooklyn walkup apartment for a few weeks. “In fact, it’s a big help. This building is fifteen minutes from Columbia, so you’re saving me a fifty-minute train ride each way from Brooklyn. Trust me, I intend to be here whenever I’m not in lectures. All the time. Day and night. Don’t worry, Ms. Chandler. They’ll be fine.”
“I’m going to miss you, my babies,” she whimpers out, a little choked up. “So much! But I’ll be back in a few weeks with all your favorite imported treats, my darlings.”
Daisy, Bailey, and Sheba more or less ignore her. They’re used to me being around. I’ve been pet-sitting off and on for Vivian for more than a year a half. That’s almost as long as it’s been since I moved from Cedar City, Utah, to New York to complete a degree in Veterinary Sciences at Columbia U. These dogs are practically my family. I’m also the only person Vivian trusts to take care of them. Which is why I got this gig.
Mind you, this is the first time that I’ll be with them on an extended overnight basis. The last time Vivian had to go out of town, she left them at the doggy spa. They were fine, but Vivian was not happy about Bailey losing a couple of pounds while she was away. She almost sued them for negligence, but changed her mind when I reminded her that Bailey has a history of picky eating, which was echoed by her vet.
Gosh, I hope she doesn’t sue me after this pet-sitting gig.
Vivian’s sure paying me enough. This will be the most money I’ve ever earned in one job. Five thousand dollars. I still can’t believe that round-the-clock pet-sitting pays this much. Vivian spent more than double that amount to keep them at the doggy spa last time. It’s expensive, owning three pets here in Manhattan. Daily boarding rates per dog can run in the hundreds. For me, the five grand will go a long, long way. My tuition is taken care of, thanks to scholarships and such, and my folks back home send me what they can, but I cover my own rent and other expenses. Even in Brooklyn, living expenses aren’t cheap.
In any case, I love these doggies just as much as Vivian does, so I plan to make sure they’re happy while I’m taking care of them.
The chime of the antique grandfather clock in the study gets our attention.
“Two o’clock,” Vivian choruses. “I’d better get going. See you soon, my babies. Mommy’s going to miss you. And please do whatever Dahlia asks you to do, okay?”
“Have a safe trip, Ms. Chandler,” I tell her.
“Thanks, Dahlia. Oh, before I forget. We have a new neighbor. Jackson Knight. Remember his name.”
“Jackson Knight. Got it.”
“He’s a handsome young man. But you know how the billionaires living in this building are?”
I nod, but Vivian, a trust fund billionaire, is also one of them. I don’t know for certain what she means.
“He’s all business. Cold as ice. Curt and impolite. Hates dogs. Sheba has already wandered onto his balcony. He didn’t like that very much, so make sure you keep an eye on him. Sheba, I mean, not the neighbor,” she says lightly with eyebrows raised.
“Will do,” I tell her with a nod. “Bye, Ms. Chandler. You’d better hurry, or you’ll miss your flight!”
“Yes, I really should go. Take good care of them.”
“I will,” I assure her. “Everything will be great.”
Vivian sighs, turning to walk over to the elevator and the waiting concierge.
I remain in the doorway, waiting with the door ajar until the elevator doors open. With one final wave at her dogs, she allows the conc
ierge to roll the luggage rack inside, steps on next to him, and they leave.
Finally. Deluxe everything awaits me, and all I have to do for three splendid weeks is take care of three munchkins I love to pieces. The five thousand big ones are just sweet, sweet icing on the cake.
It’s only as I lock the door and turn around that I notice Bailey is the only one looming in the foyer. Daisy has managed to open the balcony door, and both she and Sheba are romping around on the granite tile slabs out there. It’s a sight to see. Daisy’s as large as a pony, while Sheba can almost fit in both my hands. Hurrying across the foyer and living room, I make it onto the terrace just in time to see Sheba’s hindquarters squeeze through a tiny space under the privacy partition—to the neighbor’s balcony.
“Sheba, get back here, boy,” I call to him, squinting with one eye through the narrow opening between the exterior wall and the frosted glass partition. Sheba doesn’t make a sound, so I walk over to the thick limestone railing at the ledge of the terrace, and peer around the opaque glass to look for him. “Sheba?”
Sheba begins to bark excitedly. Then I hear the tap of men’s dress shoes hitting the granite floor. Trailing my eyes to the sound, I freeze. That’s when I see the not so happy yet smoking hot man in his mid-twenties, dressed in a well-tailored navy suit with white shirt, hovering his smartphone an inch from his ear.
Jackson Knight, is my guess.
And he’s staring at me.
No. More like glaring.
3
Jackson
Fuck.
This puny little mutt again.
It’s two in the afternoon, and I just got home after a close to twenty-three-hour negotiation meeting from hell. I’m exhausted as fuck. My phone won’t stop buzzing. I don’t need a whiny little nuisance yapping his fur-covered trap off—and licking my shoes on top of that. These babies are House of Testoni, for fuck’s sake.