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3 stories of billionaires paying to give it rough!A trio of tales featuring billionaires paying hard cash for some rough, public, multipartner fun. Includes Judy’s Jugs, Lana’s Legs, and Barb’s Booty. Get the bundle and save!An erotic short bundle featuring multipartner, rear entry, and rough, raw billionaire pounding.
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PAID FOR AND POUNDED BY A BILLIONAIRE #3: BARB’S BOOTY
3 stories of billionaires paying to give it rough!
A trio of tales featuring billionaires paying hard cash for some rough, public, multipartner fun. Includes Judy’s Jugs, Lana’s Legs, and Barb’s Booty. Get the bundle and save!
An erotic short bundle featuring multipartner, rear entry, and rough, raw billionaire pounding.
Genre: Contemporary Erotica
Length: 7,383 words
Copyright © 2017 by Jade Bleu
First eBook Publication: October 2017
Cover design by Jade Bleu
All cover art and logo copyright © 2017 by Jade Bleu
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
ABOUT THE E-BOOK YOU HAVE PURCHASED: You do not have the right to distribute or resell this book without the prior written permission of the author. This book cannot be copied in any format, sold, or otherwise transferred.
Paid and Pounded by a Billionaire 1: Judy’s Jugs
Paid and Pounded by a Billionaire 2: Lana’s Legs
Paid and Pounded by a Billionaire 3: Barb’s Booty
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More Titles by Jade Bleu
About the Author
He paid me to give me the shaft during a pottery making demonstration! I was hoping to sell some jugs at the art show, but I had no idea that the jugs I’d be paid for were the large ones straining against my work apron. A billionaire laid down hard cash if I’d let him shove his thick shaft between them, and I wound up getting a rear entry pounding that I’d never forget right in my art show booth.
Few things in my life were as fulfilling as the feel of wet clay squishing between my fingers...until the day a billionaire came along and showed me just how dirty pottery making could be.
The art show was meant to attract a higher income clientele, and I’d spent a fair fortune paying the fee to display my wares in a booth—more than I could afford. But business was failing, and a decent enough rich customer might spread the word to their friends. So I brought my pottery wheel in hopes of attracting interest with a demonstration of my talents.
Little did I know just how much interest I was about to attract.
Droplets of water flung onto the cleavage I was unwittingly putting on display as I leaned forward, my apron slipping down as I concentrated on the clay spinning in front of me. I wiped at the water, managing to smear clay on my large breasts in the process, but I was focused on turning a slab of stoneware into a saleable piece.
It was his eyes that caught my attention first—a gaze of smoldering brown topaz that stared intently while I worked. It was difficult not to keep glancing back, especially since the man those eyes belonged to was fucking gorgeous. He was in the adjacent parking lot, leaning against a sports car worth more than my last house with his arms folded over a broad chest.
My clay started leaning off kilter, and I managed to redouble my efforts and concentrate.
“Judy’s Jugs,” a male voice said a few moments later, disrupting my focus—and the shape of the wet clay in front of me. “Fitting name.”
I took my foot off the pedal and glanced up to the sight of the sexiest man alive no longer leaning on his car. He was in front of my booth, viewing my business sign. Then his eyes shifted right to the tits that were spilling out of my loosely-tied work apron.
I felt my face go hot at the double meaning, and I might have snapped off a retort if my pussy didn’t go utterly wet at his expression. Besides, I was there to save my bacon, not insult potential customers.
“Are you interested in a piece?” I asked, wiping my hands on a towel.
The look I got in reply was searing. “Definitely interested in a piece.”
I swallowed and gestured to the display table. “Which one?”
“The one right in front of me.”
Seeing as how the slab of clay on my wheel had caved into a puddled, ruined mass thanks to my lack of focus, I began to doubt that we were both discussing pottery. Still, I played along.
“This pile? I managed to wreck it because I wasn’t paying attention.”
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