A Million Dirty Secrets (Million Dollar Duet 1)

He’d told me men like us couldn’t trust any woman because they were all a bunch of gold-digging whores anyway; either they wanted a fat bank account or they wanted a fat cock. He thought I was stupid for falling in love, that it made me vulnerable and weak.

He was right. I was broken after I caught him with Julie, but so was his nose, a kneecap, and three of his ribs.

He’d fucked her just to prove a point. And although our friendship was over, the partnership was not. It wasn’t that I didn’t try to buy him out. I did, but he’d refused to sell. And there was no way I was giving up the company my father and mother had worked so hard to build. So I bit the bullet and went to work every day with my head held high and conducted business as usual.

I learned my lesson and refused to let a woman get close enough to hurt me again.

But I was lonely. And slightly addicted to pussy.

Sure, I’d had flings with several women, but I’d always cut them off the second they got a little too close for comfort. Sex was a very therapeutic way for me to get out my frustrations, but women didn’t seem to want to stick around for just that purpose. There were some who had said they understood that it was just sex for me, but inevitably they’d get clingy and want me to feel things I simply didn’t and wouldn’t, so they had to go.

I could have random one-night stands, but that was like playing Russian roulette with my dick, even with a condom, and I’d grown quite attached to it over my young life, thank you very much.

What I wanted was the same woman in my bed every night and every morning, someone to greet me when I arrived home after a long and trying day at work, eager to please me. Someone who would tend to my every need, no strings attached. Yeah, I knew it was every man’s fantasy and that it wasn’t likely to come true for most men, but I had enough money to buy that fantasy. So I did.

And that was what had led me to Delaine.

In my world, there was always talk between men. You hear about women gossiping all the time, but men are just as guilty. The difference is that we don’t make it as obvious.

One afternoon when I had been golfing with a Scarlet Lotus investor, I’d heard about the auction. I’d done what little research I could on the place, and after speaking to the proprietor, my interest was piqued. Obviously I didn’t want to own someone against her will, but Scott had assured me that women on the “menu” were there voluntarily and that on that night in particular I could find a virgin. A virgin was necessary. I was worried about diseases or spending an insane amount of money on a woman only to find out that she was already knocked up with some other guy’s baby.

That wasn’t the least bit appealing to me.

As I sat in that booth, completely darkened because I didn’t want anyone to recognize me, I let every girl showcased go without even so much as a bid. That is, until she stood on the podium. Delaine Talbot.

I had read through her specs and the contract she proposed and was intrigued. I had naturally wondered what would make a seemingly wholesome woman like her do such an outlandish thing, but I pushed my curiosity down because, like I said, I didn’t want there to be any strings attached. She was offering two years on the contract, and that was right up my alley. Two years of constantly getting my rocks off in any way I could fathom was plenty of time to get it out of my system or find someone else. And when she was gone, I could always cite the age-old reason “We just grew apart.”

When I saw Delaine I knew that I had to have her.

Not only was the contract ideal, but she was a perfect specimen. She looked just as wholesome as her specs, not overly voluptuous or fake-looking. I had wavered at the end of the auction, not really sure if I wanted to follow through, but then she gave me this look, like she was silently begging me to keep her out of the grasp of the disgusting tub of lard in the other room.

I might have felt a little sorry for her, which probably should have been the first indication that this was a bad idea. But I made the final bid regardless.

The second indication had come when she had gotten on her knees and sunk her teeth into my dick. That hurt like a motherfucker and let me know without a doubt that I’d bitten off more than I could chew—which was ironic, because she had been the one doing the biting, but whatever. The point is that she’d never even given a goddamn blow job before. Really? I knew she was a virgin, but in my experience most virgins had at least done other things to get off without breaking the seal, so to speak.

And the biggest indicator? That fucking smart mouth of hers.

This was a business arrangement. It was fucked up and like nothing I’d ever done before, but it was a business arrangement nonetheless. I had every intention of abiding by my end of the contract, and I expected her to do the same.

If I was being honest, though, her snarky attitude kind of turned me on. I don’t think I could’ve gotten as hard with someone who was completely subservient to my every whim. She had fire and ice running through her veins, and she wasn’t going to make this easy for me.

Which was exactly the thing that was going to make this even more exciting for me.

I wasn’t normally an asshole, but I took business very seriously. Plus I was a horny motherfucker and she showed a lot of promise when I fucked her mouth into submission, even cupping my balls without having been told to do so. Teaching her to do things the way I like them, and watching her sexuality bud and flourish was going to be an awesome sight to behold. And I had a front-row seat.

I shut the faucet off once the tub was full and went out to the bedroom. I pulled back the sheet and ran my hands over the creamy flesh of her ass. Technically, that was my ass now. She shifted a little in her sleep and her eyebrows puckered.

“Delaine, it’s time to get up,” I said in a soft voice.

“Hmm?” she murmured, but made no attempt to open her eyes.

I leaned in close to her ear. “Get your ass up, or I’m going to ram my cock into it,” I said with more assertion and then ran the tip of my finger over her asshole, applying a bit of pressure to accentuate my point.

She shot straight up out of bed then, looking dazed and confused until her eyes focused and she looked at me. I could see the moment that she realized where she was and why she was there. Her hair was a tousled mess of knots and tangles, and what little bit of eye makeup she wore was smudged under her eyes.

“It’s time for my bath,” I told her.

“So? What’s that got to do with me?” she snapped, plopping back onto the bed and covering herself with the sheet.