Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 88182 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88182 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Getting caught by your controlling boss.
On his prized pool table.
Moaning his name.
Prime Spadaro is the worst boss in Philadelphia.
Arrogant, demanding, dangerous, and so gorgeous it should be illegal.
He’s a notorious playboy with a famously busy bedroom.
When he blackmails me into house sitting on my weekend off, I decide to get even by defiling his precious million-dollar felt.
It’s going great until he comes home early.
And he sees everything.
I’m ready to quit, change my name, and flee the state.
Instead of firing me, he gives me one last chance and an insane new task:
Find him a wife.
Fine. Easy. I’ll marry the handsome monster off, take my double salary, and finally be able to afford my sick father’s care.
Except he hates every woman I choose.
And on his wedding day, Prime walks away from the arranged bride…
Because the wife he wants has been holding the clipboard all along.
One huge problem: Prime isn’t just a rich developer with a magic touch.
He’s mafia, and he’s obsessed with me.
And the ring he slips on my finger?
He’s never taking it back.
Damaged Beast is a full length standalone novel with plenty of banter and spicy scenes. There’s no cliffhanger and a happily-ever-after is guaranteed
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
CHAPTER 1
DEANNA
Ihate my boss so much that I’m going to defile his precious pool table with my naked body.
I shouldn’t even be here right now. This was supposed to be my long weekend off. I put my request in over a month earlier and Prime (yes, that’s his real name) approved it without so much as glancing up from his phone (probably scrolling through an endless list of needy hookups).
Now, instead, he calls me up last second and essentially says either you house sit for me or you’re fired.
I didn’t even want to take this weekend off, is the thing, but it’s my dad’s birthday tomorrow morning and my mom really struggles around this time of year. I still remember the parties she used to throw for him full of friends, coworkers, acquaintances, and other random guests they gathered like stray kittens. There was food, dancing, drinking, at least a few broken objects and stained carpets, and kids running all over. I loved those parties and she did too, but now it’s like none of that ever happened, and I think she’s still grieving it.
All of that’s to say, my boss is an asshole.
But he’s a particular type of asshole.
Rich, arrogant, confident to a fault, and absurdly handsome. There’s a reason he’s got a black book thicker than my mattress. For whatever reason, when he takes a woman home, she’s always desperate to do it a second time.
It’s a little pathetic, but the man’s got to be packing a magic dick or something.
Which is why I’m up on his pool table, top unbuttoned, legs spread, eyes screwed shut, thinking about the time I caught him mid-fuck six weeks back during a work retreat.
I’ll admit the whole pool table thing is dramatic and weird. Why not stroke myself off anywhere else? Somewhere more private instead of right in the middle of his massive game room on the ground floor of his huge south Philly house? Prime loves this stupid thing. It’s apparently made from thousand-year-old Italian trees and the top is Greek slate and a million virgins were sacrificed to bless its felt and the pockets are sewn from the leather of a mystical dragon, or whatever. He told me all about it once and I’m absolutely, positively sure he’d hate it if he knew I was doing this, which makes it so much sweeter as I stroke my fingers up and down my slit, eyes closed now as I pull back that now familiar memory.
Six in the morning. That’s the part I still can’t get over. I knocked, heard nothing, and went into his room to make sure he hadn’t choked on his own booze-soaked vomit. I figured I’d find him asleep and hungover and I’d have to usher him into the shower and get him presentable for the breakfast meetings we had scheduled a couple hours.
Instead, he was awake. Very much awake. And entertaining not one beautiful blond woman, but two.
I let out a soft moan at this part as I sink my fingers in deeper and begin to work my clit. It was that first moment, before they realized I was there. Prime was sinking his cock deep into one of the women, her sweat-slicked body grinding against him as he slammed roughly into her pussy, her pleasure screams like she was about to die.
The other stood in front of him, her leg over her shoulder, her fingers buried in his hair as he held her ass to keep her balanced. His mouth slurped and licked and ate her pussy, and her eyes were rolled back in pure ecstasy, her moans as incredible as her friend getting the best fuck of her life.
I moan, spreading my legs wider. The pool table’s felt really is soft as fresh cut summer grass. I stroke faster, back arching at the memory of the way he easily pleasured these two sinfully gorgeous women.
Back in the room that morning, I couldn’t move. I froze in pure shock, horror, and awe. The woman he was fucking started gasping, almost shrieking as an orgasm rippled down her spine, her tanned skin turning bright red and flushed with exertion. And as she finished, he pulled himself from her revealing the biggest, pussy-slick cock I’ve ever seen outside of porn videos. She collapsed onto her belly, gulping for air, and that’s when he essentially shoved the other girl down onto her back and sheathed himself inside her with a feral snarl of pleasure.
I feel him now on the pool table, slamming into me, sweaty and growling, his muscular body covered in scars and dark tattoos, looking like a demon made for a woman’s sin. I’m that girl on my back, another woman’s orgasm coating Prime’s dick, and not caring at all as he fills me over and over, pinning my hands above my head as I’m powerless, dominated, riding the sweet edge of bliss.