Total pages in book: 22
Estimated words: 20866 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 104(@200wpm)___ 83(@250wpm)___ 70(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 20866 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 104(@200wpm)___ 83(@250wpm)___ 70(@300wpm)
... except the man of the house doesn’t invite me in right away.
Instead, his piercing blue eyes rake up my generous curves...
A smirk appears on his handsome face ...
And is it my imagination, or does he begin to laugh?!?!
Nonetheless, the alpha male says I can stay, as long as I please him.
But what does that even mean?
There’s no free lunch in life, and the brat needs to learn a lesson. Lily’s been spoiled all her life, and she thinks she can prance right into my home and make herself at home in my house. Guess again, princess, because it’s time to get on your knees ...
... as you learn to please!
Get the first installment of Lily’s Naughty Adventures. In this delicious serial, Lily goes on a journey that includes intimacy with the handsome man of the house, bad girl antics involving a trio of mouthwatering alpha males, and of course, journeying to the Island of Deux where gorgeous men enjoy the curvy girls brought there for their pleasure. Are you up for the ride? Buckle up because this is one sizzling tale that will have your panties drenched! This book is a follow up to The Man with 2 Clubs (Amy and Drake’s story) AND Bred By The Warriors (Angie’s story), but all of my stories are standalones and do not need to be read in order. Enjoy!
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1
Lily
This is so embarrassing. My period came unexpectedly today, and I have a feminine pad in my locker. But I couldn’t get to it in time, and now there’s a bright red splotch on the back of my white dress.
I know what you’re thinking: why was I wearing a white dress on a day when I was expecting my period to come?
But that’s the problem: I wasn’t thinking, and that lack of foresight has gotten me into a lot of trouble over the years. After all, my life’s kind of been a shitshow recently. After my mom passed, my stepdad shipped me off to finish high school at a ritzy boarding school in New York. It was awful to leave the comforts of home, but Lionel couldn’t manage a teenage girl by himself. Not when both he and I were reeling with grief from my mom’s death.
So I arrived at the Spencer School for Girls and it was okay at first. School is school no matter where you go, and at first, I joined the student body unnoticed. Classes were okay, my teachers seemed decent, and even the other girls were reasonably nice to a newcomer.
But then I went a little berserk. I’m not sure what happened, but I think it was the grief doing it to me. Or maybe it was the fact that I’d departed Minnesota abruptly, without any kind of adjustment period. No matter the reason, my mom left me a sizable trust fund in her will, and I started spending it like crazy. Again, I can’t tell you if it was from sorrow, shock, or just plain immaturity, but I started blowing money on stupid stuff like weed for me and my friends; expensive designer clothes; nights out at lavish clubs; and over-the-top meals at fine dining establishments. Pretty soon, I’d blown through everything I had, and when tuition came due, there was nothing in the bank. I could have asked my stepdad for help, but I was too embarrassed. Instead, I dropped out of high school and began living in a run-down apartment in a dicey neighborhood, all the while working three jobs to make ends meet. My different positions sucked, but at least I made enough to cover my bills.
Unfortunately, even three jobs isn’t enough to survive in New York. This city is expensive, so no way did I have any savings, much less a rainy day fund. As a result, when a medical emergency struck, my already-strained budget was blown to smithereens. Even crazier, I’d suffered nothing more than a sprained ankle. But a trip to the ER is pricey, and my twisted ankle saddled me with six figure debt. It was mind-blowing. There were so many calls and letters from the hospital, and then the collection agency, that I stopped answering my phone because of the crushing shame and guilt. I was in a very dark place, and the depression was like a relentless monkey that rode on my back each day.
But eventually, I shook free of the weight. One day I went to the neighborhood library to borrow some books, and there were pamphlets on a side table discussing the pros and cons of personal bankruptcy. Like many other unfortunate Americans, I began to consider the possibility of filing, even though I was utterly mortified. I’ve always thought of myself as a person who pays her bills. I understand my responsibilities, and would never try to duck or disclaim them. I’m an honorable person, or so I tell myself.
But there was no other path forward, and I ended up declaring personal bankruptcy. Shame nearly brought me to my knees. I was humiliated and embarrassed, and my eyes brimmed with tears when I spoke before the judge. But she was kind and fair, and granted my petition, discharging my debts in the process. It was a wake-up call because I’ve heard that medical bills are the primary cause of financial ruin for many Americans. But I never thought it’d happen to me.
Unfortunately, the bad news didn’t stop there. I lost my apartment during the bankruptcy process, and simultaneously, the restaurant where I was waitressing closed and my babysitting gigs dried up. There was only one option at hand: to return to Minnesota with my tail between my legs, throwing myself at the mercy of my stepfather.
I didn’t tell Lionel I was coming home. Instead, I showed up unexpectedly on his doorstep, and the man of the house was utterly livid when I was directed into the drawing room. His handsome features were ominous, that square jaw locked.
“Hi Daddy,” I greeted, trying to smile even as my knees trembled. “Long time no see.”
His fists curled until his knuckles were white, and I swear, if Lionel could have breathed flames, then he would have. But instead, the man of the house managed to speak in a near-normal voice.