Filthy Riches Book Novels & Stories

sloppy, continuous, unbroken. Nathan’s hand settled on the back of her head. Ellie didn’t slow down. She sucked harder, cheeks hollowed, drool running down her chin and dripping onto her chest. The cock was slick and shiny with her spit; every bob of her head made soft, filthy noises. She stroked the base with one hand while her mouth stayed busy, twisting slightly, never letting the wet seal break for long. Nathan groaned above her. Ellie only went messier, letting more saliva spill, coating him completely as she kept sucking.

“Yes… just like that, you filthy little slut. Eat my pussy, taste how good you make me feel.” Ethan gripped my thighs and slammed back into me in one brutal thrust. I screamed into Claire’s cunt — a muffled, vibrating “Fuuuuck!” as his thick cock stretched me open again. The wet, filthy slapping sounds of him pounding my cum-slick pussy filled the room.

she said simply. I stared at her, waiting for the punchline. When it didn’t come, I laughed, a short, bitter sound. "Is this some kind of joke?" "Not at all," she said in all seriousness. "The man in question is a billionaire. He needs a wife, and we need someone desperate enough to take the deal. And Y-O-U, my dear, fits the bill perfectly." The words stung, but I couldn’t deny the truth in them. I was desperate. Homeless. Heartbroken. Seeking revenge.

I'm not sure if it was on intentional or not, but they made a wonderful duo. It irritated me a little. What was the deal with filthy affluent folks being so appealing? Wasn't the fact that they had money enough? Did they have to steal everyone's wonderful looks as well? It was so unjust. Or maybe I was just too cynical. That was something I had to work on.

She was worried and requested that I tighten the security in my house and be very careful. "I've prepared some delicious food, mother. Should I bring it for you to eat?" I asked. She laughed and asked me to bring the food. I went to the kitchen and brought the food. She ate, and we began another discussion. "I met this beautiful girl while I was relaxing at Lagos Beach. Her beauty and physique were unmatched. Mother, I think I love this girl," I opened up to my mother, and she laughed. "Are you sure you're not just carried away by obsession? Why would you see a woman for the first time and start loving her? That's strange!" My mother understood the kind of person I was. I was the kind of bil

This was further inclination that I was knee deep in shit that I didn’t know how to handle. “That should teach you to keep your fucking mouth shut,” he growled taking a step back. “Your stupid tricks won’t work on me.” “What tricks? I haven’t even done anything.” “The ones you use on everyone. You managed to get a filthy rich billionaire obsessed with you. I wonder if your pussy is made of gold or some shit because that’s clearly the only thing he is interested in. You have the personality of drying paint.” “That’s not what you were saying when you asked to go out with me repeatedly.”

I came again and again, shaking and sobbing, knowing my daughter was waiting at home while her mother was getting destroyed by five rich strangers. They each unloaded one final time,, in my pussy, ass and throat, until I was completely wrecked, leaking from every hole, body limp and ruined. When it was finally over they helped me clean up just enough to walk. I pulled the black dress back on, no underwear, feeling their cum still oozing down my thighs. Harrington finally handed me the thick white envelope. Ten thousand dollars. Cash. “Dirty secret,” he said, kissing me deep. “Ours now.”

Emily Hart did not make mistakes twice. By the time Richard left the boardroom in Chapter Five—pale, unsettled, avoiding her eyes—Emily had already adjusted her approach. Weak men did not collapse under accusation. They collapsed under documentation. So she began with numbers. The Richardson Foundation offices in downtown Minneapolis were designed to suggest transparency. Glass walls. Open corridors. Minimalist decor. Philanthropy framed in brushed steel and backlit photographs—schools funded, clinics built, scholarships awarded.

I pulled out the bed covers and lifted the bed from it's frame. They was a safe there. It was coded and required a password to open it. I rolled my eyes and thought all the valuable information lied in there. Rich people are all the same; they bury themselves in the luxury and forget about those who have helped them. I dropped the bed back on it's frame and adjusted the covers. I decided to check out other stuffs in the fancy room. His clothes were just everywhere and dirty too. There smell like shit. I took a walk to his wardrobe and got it open.

The light fell over Nicholas’s face, making him look even more like a statue carved from marble—perfect, but lifeless. “After you finish cleaning, you may go to your quarters. They are down the hall, second door to the left,” she said, leaning against the window frame, looking at me carefully. “I will pay you twenty-five thousand pesos a month. Is that enough for you?” My eyes widened. Twenty-five thousand—more than enough to live comfortably, more than I had ever earned in my life. It was a fortune. “It’s more than enough, Ma’am. Thank you.” “Good. Do well, and you will be treated fairly. Disappoint me… and you will regret ever being born.”