Filthy Rich Age Novels & Stories

Some bullshit like ‘I’ll be 40 next month so technically I’m 39 now’. And yes, I'm fully aware 39 is not young if we were to compare with my pretend age. That's a huge, jaw-dropping age gap. I was actually talking as Sophie, the 32 year old divorcee, not my pretend persona of this 19 year old college girl. Rich? Yeah, I think so. Because seriously, if you don't have money, why would you be a Sugar Daddy? How are you going to shower us with love, since love in this business equals money and expensive gifts.

"Margot, you really don't know who Curtis is?" Margot took a bite of a pastry and asked nonchalantly, "Why should I know who he is?" Natalie cleared her throat and said, "Margot, I need to tell you something about Curtis. He's 30 years old, and he's the richest man in the country." "Huh?" Upon hearing the term "richest man", Margot's eyes lit up, and she looked up at Natalie in disbelief. "He's the richest man?" Natalie nodded. "That's right. If you can get on his good side, you'll be set for life."

He reasons, making me laugh. “He is kinda crazy like this always and he is like this with everyone. Being a busy and successful businessman isn't an easy task, you see.” His mouth wides, “Is he crazy rich?” He asks as he takes a seat in front of me on the bed. “Yeah, he is. I also looked like a guppy fish like you when I truly realized how filthy rich he really is.” He closes his mouth as soon as those words leave my mouth. “He can take a bath and clean his shit with gold infused water for the rest of his life and he will still have enough wealth to last him a century.” I exaggerate to make it extra dramatic. Not that I'm far from reality.

I was a man who had seen so much. That one day ruined my life. I was fifteen at that time and Chloe Hathaway had just made her way through social media as the richest child in the world. She was only twelve years old but she owned shares that grown men could only dream of. Chloe Hathway was being photographed everywhere. She had fans and everyone was praising her for being rich. I wouldn't lie, I envied her. She was rich and had rich parents. Yet, I loved my family very much and I wouldn't trade them for the world. There was nothing for me to trade them for, we were happy although our finances were shaking.

[Mia's POV] I couldn’t stop staring at my phone. “$75,000. One night. No limits. My penthouse. Tomorrow evening. I want all three of you.” Richard Caldwell — our sugar daddy, the wealthy 52-year-old tech investor who had been quietly spoiling us for the past few months — had finally made his real intentions clear. This wasn’t another expensive dinner or a shopping spree. This was something much darker, much filthier, and much more expensive.

Angela' brows furrow as she says "You have done everything you can for him" Paz grumbled "He is a member of the family,we are family and we must support one another.I am hoping to get employed as CEO St Patrick's personal assistant." Angela grinned as she pulled the pot from the cupboard. "Just keep an eye out. The St Patrick brothers are said to be dangerously wealthy and rutheless according to rumors." Paz gave her opinion "Yes I am aware the "Nasty Billionairs" are they name,I am hoping I do not see them because I am terrified what can I do? I need the money." She laughed

Can I Suck You, Please? (1) CATHERINE “Touch it, Catherine. It’s still the same big, thick cock you used to love.” **** Three years ago, I worked as a maid for the Douglas family. Mr. Anthony Douglas was forty-one years old and had no wife. What started as secret flirting turned into something wild. We didn’t just have sex — we had hot, rough sex that left me screaming at the top of my lungs. I wasn’t just his maid. I was his personal slut.

"Do you like this sports car, Randy? It's only 500,000 dollars. It'd be perfect as your 18th birthday gift." I immediately turned around and felt my blood freeze in my body when I realized that the person who said that was none other than my dad, Fred Carter, who was usually so poor that he couldn't even afford to buy a new 20-dollar shirt. However, right at this moment, he was holding hands with my mom, Melissa Phelps, and my younger brother, Randall Carter, while loudly proclaiming that he was about to buy a 500,000-dollar Ferrari for Randall without even blinking an eye.

I asked, suddenly curious. “Oh, princess, you can just g****e my name if you’re that curious.” He said, now in a lopsided grin. “I’m 28, okay?” “Oh, you’re older? I’m 25.” “Billionaires like you at that age are always at the club you know. I think I heard the news of you partying so hard before you came here.” “Oh, that’s just a facade. I’m tired of that life.” I can’t help but think. He always says that when I ask him.