Bought By The Billionaire

Penny

The bartender places my drink on the wooden bar. I take a sip from the crystal glass, feeling the cool Long Island Iced Tea against my lips while New York's evening breeze plays with my bangs.

Glancing around the rooftop, dim lights create a romantic atmosphere, mingling with the aroma of fine food. Elegant guests adorned in expensive jewelry fill the tables, their conversations blending with classical music in the air.

Nervousness grips me as I tap my foot on the concrete floor.

Any moment now, Maddox, my date, should arrive through those doors. We connected on a sugar baby website, a decision born of necessity rather than preference. Meeting men online isn't my usual style, but desperate times call for desperate measures. He's supposed to pose as my fake fiancé to win over my mother and secure my inheritance. It had to be someone perfect on paper, and Maddox fits the bill.

Well-educated? Check.

Net worth over a million dollars? Check.

Clean background? Check.

All he needs to do is pass my interview and sign the contract.

I nervously clutch my purse, retrieving my compact mirror to check my makeup—a light, natural look with red lipstick to accentuate my light brown complexion. I replace the mirror and rest my elbow on the bar, eyes scanning the entrance. Anxiety flares in my chest, threatening to undo my composure.

The bartender, in a crisp outfit, smiles at me. "Anything else, beautiful?"

My gaze flicks to the entrance where a brown-haired guy with soft eyes scans the bar, approaching slowly.

Maddox looks charming.

He walks past me and warmly greets a short woman nearby. My smile fades, replaced by a forced grin directed at the bartender.

I mentally wish for a knife to cut through my escalating anxiety.

"No, thank you," I manage.

The bartender moves on to the next patron.

What if Maddox isn't who he claims to be? What if he's dangerous? I should have insisted on a FaceTime call. I didn't think this through. Normally, I FaceTime every prospective date before meeting, but Maddox said it wasn't possible due to personal reasons.

My phone vibrates in my purse. I retrieve it, swipe left, and see a message from Maddox.

Maddox: Something came up, another time.

I tuck my cracked phone back into my purse.

Disappointment grows inside me, unbidden.

This marks the fifth time I've been stood up, and he was my last hope. Time is ticking, and my bills are piling up taller than the Empire State Building. My meager savings are dwindling week by week. While I can cover next month's rent, I'm at a loss for how to handle the rest of my expenses.

When my mother disowned me and cut off my credit cards, it felt like a huge blow to my heart. The longer I stay estranged from my family, the more profound the pain grows. She turned her back on me because I refused to marry her favorite, Landon.

My mother can be quite controlling.

Landon was a nightmare. He treated me terribly and even cheated on me. My stepfather was hoping to leverage Landon's connections in the winery industry to make a fortune.

I work in a lousy bar where men constantly harass me and make indecent propositions for a few extra bucks. If I didn't have my principles, I might consider it. What will I do if this doesn't work out?

I crave my mother's approval desperately. Being the black sheep of the family is incredibly lonely; sometimes, it brings me to tears. My mother has never gone this long without speaking to me. Six months feels like an eternity without family. I wasted too much time on Maddox, and I can't keep going on blind dates hoping someone will keep their word. This outing was a waste of time, and I regret spending twenty dollars on a drink. Perhaps my sister, Sapphire, could ask her husband if any of his friends are suitable, but I'm reluctant to involve them in my problems. Besides, I never cared for Tate, so I won't ask for his help. From what Sapphire has told me, he would expect something in return. I'll try matching with someone else online, and if I can't find anyone, I might have to consider going back to Landon. The idea terrifies me. Being drawn back into Landon's world and hearing him insist I'll never find anyone better doesn't sit right with me.

With a sigh, I rise from my seat, drop a crisp twenty-dollar bill on the wooden bar, and swiftly finish my drink to avoid wasting it; that would be sacrilege.

As I head towards the door, my heart nearly stops at who walks through the archway.

Jason Bennington.

Multibillionaire and CEO of Moon lingerie.

The most beautiful man alive. Not my words, but People magazine’s.

The guy who left his imprint on me when he fucked my brains out last year. We hooked up one time and I couldn’t get him off my mind, no matter how hard I tried, so I took the coward’s way out and went back to my ex. One of the biggest mistakes of my life.

The way he strolls to the bar, reeking of dominance, and the heads of both women and men turn in his direction as his powerful presence sucks in the air like a vacuum cleaner.

When his beautiful chocolate eyes meet mine, I suck in a breath as my pulse jumps through my skin like a jackrabbit. He makes a beeline for me, and my feet are glued to the floor. I should get away from him as soon as possible.

Once he stops in front of me, he tucks a strand of my chestnut brown hair behind my ear. Normally, I wear my corkscrew hair , but because of the humid weather, it was best for me to relax my hair.

He pushes his thick frames up the bridge of his nose; the man makes glasses look so fucking sexy.

Curiosity captures his pupils, and a smile stretches across his face as he flashes me his pearly whites.

Holy fuck, he has the prettiest teeth I have ever laid eyes on.

“Penny.” My name on his tongue is smooth like warm honey.

I scrutinize his face as though it holds a hidden secret. Freckles sprinkle across his nose, and a few strands of silky hair hang over his forehead. His cheekbones could cut like a blade, and his upper lip is slightly fuller than the lower one. His smooth tan complexion resembles polished marble.

"Jason," I reply, keeping my tone casual.

He appraises my designer cocktail dress, which hugs my body, his gaze lingering. He flicks out his pink tongue to moisten his lips, briefly reminding me of how his mouth once worshiped my body. I swiftly push that memory aside.

He gestures towards the bar. "Let me buy you something to eat and drink."

I am indeed hungry, but I can manage with ramen noodles and eggs at home. It won't be filling, but at least it's a meal. There was a time when I could afford any food at any time. Now, I have to plan meals and budget carefully for grocery trips. I don't have enough money for a proper meal, and I don't want to seem desperate for a hot meal.

I tuck my shoulders back and hold my head up high as if I’m the president of the United States. “I’m not hungry.”

He slides casually onto the barstool and yanks out the stool next to him. “Penny, sit.”

I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from blushing.

His words dominate me and like a dog, I perch next to him.

His body heat overpowers me, drawing me in like the ocean is drawn to the moon. He has a way of sucking me into his orbit, and I don’t know if it’s his demeanor or charming smile.

He beckons the bartender to us. “Tell him what you want.” His tone is like warm water dripping down my spine.

If I don’t order, he’ll order for me. He did so the last time we had dinner together. Plus, I don’t want to eat what I have at home. The last time I had a good meal was when I had dinner at Lilly’s penthouse last week.

But I don’t want to be a charity case.

“How did you know I haven’t eaten anything?”

He keeps his eyes glued to mine, and something ignites in my belly.

“I watched you since you’ve been here, I was standing on the other side of the window.”

My cheeks warm at his words and if I didn’t know him, I’d be creeped out by it.

“Who were you waiting for?” he asks.

Disappointment stabs at my chest, and I’m not going to tell him I was stood up. I don’t want to look like a loser in front of him.

“No one, can’t a girl grab a drink by herself?”

He rolls his sleeves up to his elbows and I tear my eyes away from his tanned arms. “Not when she’s sitting by herself.”

My stomach makes an angry growl, and Jason shoots me a disappointed look.

The same bartender from earlier stares at me, waiting for me to order, so I swallow thickly and I say, “I want raw oysters and a glass of water, please.”

Jason rattles off his order, then the bartender leaves.

I usually avoid him at all costs because the last time I actually spent time with him, we had a one-night stand. He fucked me so good and I was on cloud nine for days. I still feel the essence of him inside of me. For someone who moves with grace and elegance, he fucks so raw and primal, like it’s a need he can’t live without.

He studies my face like a map, taking in every feature, and his eyes zero in on my lips before making their way to my hazel orbs. “You need to be well nourished for tonight.”

The bartender sets my water in front of me, and I sip lazily from the straw, cocking my eyebrow.

“What happens tonight?”

The corner of his mouth turns up, and the waiter sets his drink on the table. “We’re fucking.”

For several seconds, his words steal all the air from my lungs. Every ounce of me screaming no, but it’s been so long since I’ve been held by a man, and right now, I want to forget the empty hole inside my chest. Plus, Jason is a phenomenal lover. He knows his way around a vagina and is the best lover I’ve ever had.

I shouldn’t even entertain the idea of us sleeping together, but I feel like this evening will be wasted. I’m torn and I don’t want to complicate my life more than I already have. Jason is known to be a playboy and he was caught in a scandal with a supermodel not too long ago. He’s always splattered across the blogs with a new woman on his arms. Which should turn me off, but it doesn’t. Sex is liberal. Who cares he’s been with half of New York City—plus, we’ve already fucked.

He continues to sip his bourbon as the bartender places my food in front of me.

“I thought you only slept with women one time.”

At least that’s what I read in gossip columns. I grab the shell, use a silver fork to dig the oyster out, place it on my tongue, and swallow. The minute the food hits my stomach, it warms my belly.

He places his callous finger on my cheek, and my face flushes. “For you, I’ll make an exception.”

At least this night won’t end in vain.

My core tingles and arousal pools in my lower belly.

The entire time, Jason doesn’t take his eyes off me, as if he’s trying to capture every moment, every expression, and my cheeks can’t burn hotter.

Once I finish my last oyster, I slip off the barstool, and Jason places his hand in mine, leading me to his Aston Martin.

He opens the passenger door, allowing me to slip inside, strapping the seat belt over my frame. Even the leather seat feels dominant and alluring like him.

When he rests his hand on my thigh, he gently strokes it, and his touch alone heats my skin.

I need to draw the line between us, tell him we can’t do this again. He can’t be a distraction from me finding a fake fiancé. Jason isn’t the type to settle down, so me asking him to pretend to be my fake fiancé isn’t up for discussion.

“This will be our last hookup, Jason.”

He smiles, drumming his finger on the steering wheel, but doesn’t respond.

I scrunch my nose and take his silence as if he doesn’t agree. “I’m serious. We run in the same circles. Your best friend is married to mine. We can’t complicate things between us.”

He raises an arrogant brow and smirks. “Me sticking my dick inside you complicates things?”

I shake my head, then sigh. “Yes. No… I don’t know. Well… We said we weren’t going to sleep with each other again.”

A furrow appears on his forehead as he signals and shifts into the right lane. "No, you said you wouldn't sleep with me again because you were going back to your ex. I tried to convince you not to leave my bed for that trash." His words carry a bitterness sharper than lemon.

Why is he so upset about me returning to my ex? It's not like we were heading towards a romantic relationship. I'm too scarred from my ex to even consider another commitment. Landon ripped my heart out and trampled on it, and I won't risk someone else doing the same to me again. The pain in my chest may never fade, and I'm not about to put myself through seeking someone else's approval. Landon demanded constant proof of my love, and it became exhausting. No matter what I did, it was never enough.

"Why do you care if I went back to Landon?"

He rubs the back of his neck and stays silent for a few seconds. "Because you deserve better."

I don't buy his words for a moment. The only reason I left Landon was to avoid being trapped in a suffocating marriage and enduring further abuse. I grew weary of walking on eggshells around him. Every relationship becomes about seeking approval from your partner, and I refuse to subject myself to it again.

He pulls into the underground garage, parks, and shuts off the engine before turning to face me.

"I don't do relationships, Jason."

“I never asked you for one.” His hand glides up my thigh to my panties, pulling the material to the side. After he slips his finger inside me, I feel every inch, and my core clenches around him. I want dick. I moan loudly as his teeth sink into his bottom lip and he removes the digit. Then he places his finger in his mouth, tasting my wetness. My libido goes into overdrive and more moisture pools into my panties. My cheeks flame, and my clit swells with the need for release. “Let’s make a deal, I’ll fuck you on a regular basis with no strings attached.”

He sounds businesslike, like this is a business deal.

Does he treat women like a business deal? It wouldn’t surprise me. Atlas told me he’s a workaholic.

The deal does sound inciting, but I don’t need the distraction. I need someone who’s willing to play my fake fiancé, not be a fuck buddy.

After I unbuckle my seat belt, I place my hand on the side of his face, stroking his cheek. “This will be the last time you get me, Jason.”

I press my lips to his and he slips his tongue into my mouth, making me whimper. Jason Bennington kisses so good, and electricity radiates through my body, knocking the wind out of me. He deepens the kiss, my heart flutters in my chest and my head swims.

He pulls away, whispering in my ear, “One day, I’m going to wear you down.”

I grin. “Not today.”

I’ve been in lavish penthouses and lived in lavish places, but not one of them holds a candle to Jason’s. His living room is an open space and overlooks the city, the Empire State Building glowing in the dark sky and lighting up in various colors. I tear my gaze from the view and look at the electric fireplace molded into the dark walls, to the marble floors that are black as midnight, to the matching dark love seat. His home is warm and inviting. I didn’t expect it to look sophisticated and elegant but like a true bachelor’s home with junk everywhere.

“Your place is amazing.” I glance at the high ceiling which is made of glass.

The last time we fucked, he took me to a luxury hotel.

“Why did you bring me here instead of a hotel?”

With soft lips pressed against my neck, I shiver, swallowing thickly.

Every time I’m about to have sex with someone, I feel weird, because I don’t know if it’s going to suck ass. Hopefully, he’ll be as good as the last time we fucked.

Slowly, I hear him unzipping my dress and before I know it, it falls to the floor, and pools around my feet.

He spins me around, then his pupils travel down to my cotton bra and panties. I wasn’t planning to sleep with anyone tonight, otherwise I would have worn something sexy.

He leans down, unhooks my bra, and my breasts hang freely.

My breasts are small like apples, and a birthmark is imprinted above my right nipple. Jason eyes it, and a smile spreads across his face as he uses his thumb to gently press against my nipple. Arousal builds so much and my core aches with need.

“I missed your tight pussy,” he whispers against my ear.