Sold to a Futanari Billionaire (Book 2 of "Futanari Billionaire")
After sleeping with the futa billionaire Michelle Tanaka, Chelsea Summers is confronted by Michelle’s rival, the controversial socialite Chantelle LeBron, who gives her an offer she can’t refuse: meeting her musical idol, and wild futanari sex. But unfortunately, this naïve teen doesn’t realize great offers come with a catch. Chantelle never gives a good time away for free. More
After sleeping with the futa billionaire Michelle Tanaka, Chelsea Summers is confronted by Michelle’s rival, the controversial socialite Chantelle LeBron, who gives her an offer she can’t refuse: meeting her musical idol, and wild futanari sex. But unfortunately, this naïve teen doesn’t realize great offers come with a catch. Chantelle never gives a good time away for free.
~~~~~ PG Excerpt ~~~~~
She knew she was being followed. No matter which twist or turn she took, or however out of her regular route she went, the black car persisted in trailing behind her. It was getting scary. At first, Chelsea thought it might be Michelle Tanaka, the billionaire half-Japanese beauty and pharmaceuticals magnate who had been her lover for a night, but would Michelle really do this? The teenager hadn’t known Michelle long, but she knew it wasn’t like her to simply skulk behind her like a predator. If Michelle wanted to speak to her, all she had to do was pull up next to her and—
“So how long are you going to keep running away from me, hon?”
Chelsea froze. She turned to the tanned face peering out of the tinted window.
“Surprise!” the woman said, and then giggled. “Remember me?”
How could she forget? That bleach blonde hair, that sharp nose, those eight-hundred-dollar sunglasses. This wasn’t the tall, fierce Michelle Tanaka, but rather her younger gambling partner; the socialite billionaire heiress Chantelle LeBron.
And her white Pomeranian yipping in her arms.
“H-hello Miss LeBron.”
She laughed. “Miss LeBron? Honey, come on. I know you served me drinks, but I’ve seen you naked! I think we can be a little less formal with each other.”
Heat rose to Chelsea’s face at the memory. Sure, she had made a killing that night as the naked cocktail waitress to Michelle, Chantelle and Trisha – three billionaires who could buy and sell people without a second thought. But it had cost her no small amount of self-respect, which she was only just starting to recover.
“Did you have fun with Michelle after your shift?” There was suddenly a sharp barb in Chantelle’s tone.
She didn’t like the sound of it one bit.
“W-what do you want?”
The billionaire in the limo beamed. “To give you a ride! Hop in, I’ll take you wherever you’re going.”
Chelsea didn’t exactly want the socialite taking her home, thus knowing where she lived. She had wanted to put that night at the casino behind her, and Chantelle’s presence was making that very hard. “I’m just out for a run. I’m not going anywhere.”
The heiress raised an eyebrow. “You have to go home some time.” She motioned with her head.
“Come on. I won’t bite. And neither will this little guy.” She held up the dopey-looking Pomeranian. “He’ll be so sad if Chelsea doesn’t come for a ride with us, won’t he?” she said in baby talk. “He loves it when pretty girls ride in his car, doesn’t he?”
Chelsea crossed her arms over her chest as a chilly breeze wafted by. She figured she could just ask Chantelle to drop her off a few streets away – assuming she didn’t keep following her after. If she did, she’d just call the cops.
If the cops would even believe her that she was being stalked by a billionaire socialite like Chantelle LeBron.
“Okay, sure. I’ll get in.”
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