I was so desperate to lose my V-card that I accidentally agreed to be bred by billionaires.
Blame it on sleep deprivation. Juggling the demands of being a paramedic while putting myself through nursing school is a lot. I’m always struggling to get ahead.
When I found a position with overnight hours, excellent pay, and amazing benefits, I didn’t hesitate to take it.
Even if it meant working in an exclusive club for billionaires where everything spicy goes.
Surrounded by very satisfied customers night after night, I can’t help but regret one thing: I haven’t had time to date so I never found someone I trusted enough to give me a few hands-on lessons in the more pleasurable functions of our bodies.
It’s way too awkward to spread my legs at my place of employment. Besides, I can’t afford even a one-night membership.
So when my boss delivers an ornate invitation to play an entirely different game of doctor at a similar club out in Seattle, I sign the consent slip before so much as glancing at the fine print.
You know, the part that explains how three men will use me—and each other—however and as often as they like for an entire weekend. They intend to fulfill their wildest fantasies about claiming a virgin and getting her pregnant in exchange for giving me experience in bed. Incredible experiences.
Whatever. They can make as big a mess as they want while they tutor me in passion. My IUD will keep me safe.
Unless they find it and remove it.
I should have realized men like them would be experts in anatomy, too.
Bred by Billionaires is an over-the-top, spicy, why choose, age gap, MMMF, instalove romance with sword crossing and the unanticipated removal of the heroine’s birth control by one of her men.
