Table of Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
EPILOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
EPILOGUE
Serving Him
~Book 3 of the Billionaires Club~
© 2017
By Cassandra Dee
Want to hear about my newest illicit romance? Addicted to virgins and alpha males? Join my mailing list at http://eepurl.com/cgt2DD and get a FREE BOOK unavailable elsewhere!
© 2017 Cassandra Dee
All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locations is purely coincidental. The characters are all products of the author's imagination.
Please note that this work is intended only for adults over the age of 18 and all characters are represented as 18 or over.
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TABLE OF CONTENTS
Serving Him
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
EPILOGUE
The Dirty Virgin
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
EPILOGUE
RELATED BOOKS
DEDICATION
For all the little girls who dream big.
CHAPTER ONE
Becky
“Do you really have to go?” cried Mattie pitifully. “Really?”
My heart broke. Eight year-old Mattie is the cutest thing with his sandy hair and big glasses, but my little brother was part of the reason why I was going.
“I do, Mattie, I’m sorry,” I said, kneeling so that I was face level with the little boy. “But I’ll be back okay? It’s just a summer job.”
Mattie threw his scrawny arms around me then, clinging tight, burying his face in my shoulder.
“Do you promise to come back?” he whispered tearfully into my neck. “Promise?”
I nodded.
“Absolutely, I love you too much to go away for long. Now behave okay? Behave and help Nana with the chores, be a good boy, okay? I’ll call every week, and before you know it, I’ll be back.”
The little boy just sniffled and nodded, face still buried in the crook of my neck, breath hot against my skin. My heart broke, I love my little brother so much. Mattie means the world to me and it physically hurt to leave him, this little boy I’d helped raise since he was a baby.
But it was time, and my brother knew I had to go too. For our family’s survival, I had to go.
“Promise to come back soon,” he whispered once more. “Promise Becky.”
And giving my brother one last big hug, I stood and grabbed my backpack.
“I promise I’ll be back soon, it’ll just be a blink of the eye,” I said in a fake cheerful tone, blowing kisses. “Bye Nana, bye Mattie, I love you guys,” I sang with a lump in my throat, turning towards the door, eyes glassy. Shit, this was so hard, there were hot stinging pricks behind my lids, like a waterfall was about to come pouring out and I audibly gulped, chest rising up and down. But my grandmother, sensing my hurt, stepped in then.
“Thank you, dear heart,” she said, lifting a wrinkled, wizened hand to my head to tuck a piece of stray hair behind my ear. “Thank you and take care of yourself. Come back in once piece, hear?”
I flushed. Oh my god, did my grandmother know? But I just shook my head. There’s no way she could, I’d been completely discreet the past two weeks, a little evasive, but giving just enough detail to prevent any suspicious questions.
Because Nana and Mattie thought I was headed to Nevada for a summer job, and they were right. But there was more to the job than that. I was headed to Nevada to be auctioned at the Billionaires Club, selling my virginity to the highest bidder. It’s crazy, it’s insane, it’s outright mad. But my family needed the money, and I would do anything to help them survive, including selling my body.
Because it’s always just been me, Nana and Mattie. My mom is a deadbeat, someone who breezes in and out of our lives whenever she wants, whenever it’s convenient. Her last visit had been a disaster, the woman had left Mattie in tears, clacking her long fingernails like it was no big deal.
“He’ll get over it,” Ellen whined, one hand on the door knob. “He’s old enough.”
I was so angry that I lost it completely.
“He’s your son!” I screamed at her, tears coursing down my face. “You can’t just come in and out whenever you want! Mattie needs you! He needs his mother!”
But Ellen wasn’t having it, she had a date with some guy downtown.
“Nah, he’s okay,” she cooed, my raised voice having no effect. “You’re a big man now, right Mattie?” she said, chucking him under the chin. “You’re a big man, you don’t need your mama.”
And Mattie had nodded through the tears, trying to do his best not to cry despite the hiccups and sniffles that erupted from his small chest.
“I-I’m okay Mama,” he replied tearfully, a small fist wiping at his flushed face. “I’m okay.”
Ellen turned to me, sneering.
“There you have it,” she cawed triumphantly. “Now shut up Becky, and mind your own business.”
And with that, the woman was gone, door slamming behind her. I gasped, disbelieving, almost unable to breathe. What mother could leave her child like this? I knew we wouldn’t see Ellen for another couple weeks, she’d be the invisible person until it was convenient for her to wander back uptown at some point, out of boredom more than anything else.
But the thing is, we don’t have a choice. It’s Ellen’s disability checks that support this little family unit, and we’re dependent on her despite her flighty ways. And so while the woman does as she pleases, dating random men and hooking up with strangers, Nana, me and Mattie stay put in our shabby Bronx apartment, scraping to get by.
But recently, things have taken a left turn. Ellen isn’t reliable, hasn’t been her entire life, but her disability checks come like clockwork. They arrive by snail mail around the middle of every month, and I swear, my ears are on constant alert then, listening for the metal bang of our mailbox. It’s a matter of life and death, usually by then we’re living on baked beans and canned corn, and dreams of fresh fruit or milk for Mattie are long gone. So just as usual, around the fifteenth of last month, I’d jumped up as soon as I heard the shuffle of the postman, the unmistakable jingle-jangle of his long keychain.
“Hey Mr. Brown, something for us today?” I asked, poking my head out into the narrow hallway. We live in public housing, one of those giant developments which hasn’t been updated since the seventies, so the walls were a dirty-looking faded grey, the overhead fluorescent lights flickering unsteadily.
And Mr. Brown knows me, he knows that we depend on those disability checks. So kindly, he searched through his bag, flipping through stacks and stacks of mail bundled together.
“Here we are,” he said, handing a flyer to me. “That’s got your name on it.”
And I looked at the glossy cardboard, stupefied. It was for a check cashing place down the street, the type that takes twenty percent of your salary in return for dollars at your fingertips. I didn’t even have a paycheck, so this was no use. Slowly, I shook my head.
“No, I’m sorry, is there something else?” I asked once more, unable to keep the strain out of my voice. Mattie hadn’t had real food in so long, we were down to crusts of bread dabbed with peanut butter, the cupboards empty.
And seeing my desperate expression, Mr. Brown searched again, digging through his canvas bag.
“No, I’m sorry Becky,” the elderly man said, shaking his head. “Nothing more for you folks today.”
“Oh thanks,” I said faintly, ducking back into the apartment and shutting the door softly. Shit, shit, shit, what was going on? The disability check always arrives around this time, and yet today it hadn’t come. What were we going to do? My mind whirled, pulse jumping with fear. How would we feed Mattie? How would we feed ourselves, for that matter? Nana was looking even more frail recently, I suspected she hadn’t been eating so that my brother and I could. What the hell, what the hell?
But it was no use to ask Ellen, my mom was probably with her latest boyfriend, up to no good. And Nana can’t work, she’s seventy-five if a day, babysitting for Mattie when he gets back from school. So what were our options, realistically?
And after two more days of helpless, breathless waiting, I realized that we were out of choices. Our mailbox was disappointingly empty, my stomach growling with a mix of terror, fear and hunger when I peered into the narrow metal box once more and saw a gaping nothingness. So out of desperation, I dialed a number that I’d been saving, trembling and afraid.
“Hello?” came a neutral female voice.
“Hi, I’m looking for Maria,” I replied, trying to keep my voice low. Nana was in the apartment right now, and I didn’t want her to hear what I was doing. “We’ve been corresponding?”
That wasn’t exactly true. I’d seen an ad in the Village Voice for escorts, requesting pictures from interested applicants. And taking a deep breath, I’d sent a couple selfies, nothing sexy, nothing revealing to the email address in the ad. Gratifyingly, a reply had popped into my inbox within a few hours requesting an interview. But I dunno, I got spooked and never called back, leaving the email untouched in my folder, like a hot potato. But the time had come. There were no more options, and it was do or die.
“What was your name again?” asked the female voice once more.
“Be-Rebecca,” I said quickly. “Rebecca Wright.”
Some papers shuffled before the female voice came back on, this time much warmer.
“Oh right, Rebecca,” she said. “Well, I’m Maria and we were expecting to hear back sooner. Did you get my reply? We’d love to meet you, are you still interested?”
Honestly, I wasn’t sure if “interested” was the right word. Maybe “desperate” or “hopeless” was more accurate. I was scrabbling to find something, anything, that would help my family survive, let us live another day. So I nodded, voice breaking.
“Yes, I’d be happy to come in for an interview,” I rushed. Shit, this was bad, I was sounding like an eager puppy instead of a mature woman. So I took a deep breath and tried to come off calm. “Happy to stop by, just let me know when.”
And Maria paused for a moment, keyboard clacking.
“How about tomorrow?” she asked. “I have some time tomorrow, could you come in for a one-hour interview? Our offices are in Midtown.”
I nodded furiously although she couldn’t see.
“Yes, I’ll be there,” I said, scribbling the address she gave me with a trembling hand. “Thanks, see you then.”
And after hanging up, I sat back, taking a deep breath. Me, an escort? I was an eighteen year-old virgin with no experience, I’d never let any boys touch me given that Linda had had me at sixteen, and look how her life had turned out. I wanted to go to college, I wanted to make something of myself, become a professional. But instead, I was flying out to Vegas to be an escort at some club. What had become of me? Was I destined for a life of sin? How could this even be legal?
But once I got to the office, Maria assured me it was one hundred percent kosher.
“In Nevada, the laws are different depending on county,” she remarked smoothly, black hair pulled into a tight bun. “So long as both adults are over eighteen and consenting, then it’s all legal.”
I choked. Adult? I was a teenager, I didn’t even have two decades on this earth. But circumstances had forced me to grow up early, to mature fast, and I was wise beyond my years. So I’d nodded, ready to shoulder the burden.
“Okay,” I replied, trying to keep the tremor out of my voice. “Okay.”
And Maria had been curiously kind. Although she didn’t say anything, the middle-aged woman could sense my nervousness, the unease in the air.
“Is there anything else I can answer for you, Rebecca?” she asked. “Anything at all, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
I bit my lip. The woman had described how it would work. I’d be auctioned in front of club members, my virginity sold to an alpha male who was rich as Croesus. I’d receive fifty percent of the final price, and given that there was a floor of ten thousand, that meant that I was going to make four figures at the very minimum. The thought made my body hum, trembling with nervous energy. We needed money so badly, five thousand would put us into the clear for six months as I worked to get this disability check fiasco sorted out.
But the thing is, I wouldn’t get the money right away. I needed to put in a week of service at the club, a week in the arms of a billionaire, letting him touch me, use me, taking my virginal body over and over again, until his male lust was sated. Only then would I be paid, and that wasn’t soon enough. We needed money now. Mattie and Nana couldn’t wait, Mattie was crying in his sleep sometimes with hunger pains. Whenever his sobs woke me, I’d jump out of bed to peer down his small form, heart pounding, but there was nothing I could do. If I fed him a banana now, he wouldn’t have one for breakfast. If I gave him some rice mush now, there would be no lunch. So I held back, tears in my eyes, heart breaking. My brother needed food desperately, and I’d do anything for him. So taking a deep breath, I began.
“I was wondering,” I stammered, picking at a loose thread in my skirt. Although my clothes were clean and neat, they were hardly anything special, faded and worn.
Maria’s eyebrows arched, perfectly penciled in.
“Yes?” she asked, pen poised.
“Well, I was wondering if maybe I could get an advance?” I mumbled, voice rushed. “I really need the money,” I said, looking down at my clenched hands, the knuckles white in my lap. “I know you probably don’t get these requests, but …” My voice trailed off. How to explain the dire circumstances I was in? I had an elderly w
oman and a little boy starving at home, and I was willing to steal, rob, even sell my body for them, I loved them so much.
Maria nodded, as if she could read my mind. Getting up, the woman asked kindly, “How much do you need?”
I gulped. I hadn’t thought it’d be this easy, so I swallowed heavily, mind trying to compute frantically. If I could have my way, I’d ask for ten thousand now and be their servant for a year. I’d lick their shoes if that’s what the billionaires wanted. But that was giving away too much too early. So I bit my lip and asked hopefully, “Maybe one thousand? You can deduct it from my final paycheck, I’ll return the money, I promise.”
And for the first time in my life, I was actually glad of my shabby skirt and blouse. The worn clothes underlined the truth of my words, how precarious our financial situation was.
Maria nodded.
“Give a minute,” she said briskly, disappearing out the door.
Left in the cold, impersonal conference room, I shivered once more, rubbing the backs of my arms through the thin cotton. What had I gotten myself into? Was I taking out a loan from sharks, was I going to have my legs broken if I couldn’t pay back the money for some reason or other? Oh god, this was probably all a huge mistake.
But all fear flew out of my mind when Maria reappeared because she had cash in her hands. The real thing, glinting under the lights, green paper with Benjamin Franklin’s face on the front.
“Here you go,” she said, putting the bills into an envelope and sliding the package across the table at me. “Take it as a gift from the Club, we won’t deduct it from your final price.”
And I sat back, eyes goggling, fingers hesitant on the paper. What the hell was wrong with me? We needed this assistance so badly, and now that the cash was here, I was hesitating? But something within me, the moral, upstanding girl, spoke up. I couldn’t take it, it was one thousand dollars, a huge sum. I had to make sure the Club knew that I was as good as my word.
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