Adventures With Babysitters Novels & Stories

“Who am I to you?I want to hear you moan it” “You are my sugar dada,” I responded huskily, my lips trembling faintly. “And you are…?” he teased, his voice thickening with heat, while he devoured me with his eyes as he swallowed hard. “I’m your little toy,” I whispered,my voice dripping with desire. “That’s my princess,” he said with a wicked grin, his tongue trailing slowly around my neck. His hand slid up and grabbed my breasts, squeezing gently before his mouth found my nipple. He tugged with his teeth, sending a jolt through me. ***** Charlotte Dame wasn’t in London to cry over a breakup. She just wanted a change of scenery, a little peace, not another man. Then she bumped into Clinton Hinns— a 53-year-old billionaire way too sexy for his age. She was 27, guarded, and not looking to fall for someone twice her age. But some temptations don’t knock, they crash right into you. From quiet seduction, and risky demands, she soon finds herself wrapped up in wild evenings, erotic adventures, and illicit cravings tangled in reckless trios and thrilling paths of love, desire, and wicked indulgence awaiting Charlotte. She indulges her desires and embraces her freedom to the fullest. Her Sugar Daddy is irresistible, that’s for sure. He’s older, and It doesn’t bother her. He showers her with luxurious gifts and pampers her to the fullest. She’s definitely living her dream life, but a dark truth comes to light — one that could turn her world upside down and crush her reality. What if it’s more terrifying than she could have imagined? When it finally hits her, just one thought fills her mind. let’s hop on this ride! RATED 18 - proceed with caution

I was born with a built-in fortune system. Whenever I'm happy, everyone around me makes money. To keep me in a good mood, my billionaire father takes me out on adventures every single day, showering me with limited-edition sneakers, private yacht charters, and one-of-a-kind luxury items. It all comes down to one thing: the Connolly Group's luck is tied directly to my emotional state. As long as I'm laughing hard enough to snort, the stock price climbs and the money pours in. The moment my mood tanks, the losses start. At worst, the whole thing goes bankrupt. Take last month. One of the cleaning staff accidentally tossed out half a macaron I'd left sitting on the counter, and I was mildly annoyed for about a second. The next day, the Connolly Group's West Coast division posted a hundred-million-dollar loss. Dad spent the entire night buying up ten gourmet bakeries and terminating the cleaning company's contract just to smooth things over. After that, nobody in Manhattan's upper-crust social scene dared so much as look at me sideways. That was, until Dad flew out to Los Angeles on business, and Isabella, the long-lost biological daughter who'd just been found, walked into my room. "You've been leeching off this family for years," she said, looking down at me with pure contempt. "Did you actually think draining the Connolly name dry made you the real heiress? I'm the one with Connolly blood. Now that I'm back, it's time for you to crawl out of my house." I didn't react. She picked up the black coffee sitting nearby and poured it straight onto my keyboard. I watched the screen go dark, and something hollow opened up in my chest. "Get on your knees and clean it up." I wiped the coffee off my face. The air had gone cold. The Connolly Group was about to implode, and I found myself wondering whether Dad, thousands of miles away in LA, was already reaching for his heart medication as he watched billions evaporate off the ticker.