Goddy Francis
2 Published Stories
Goddy Francis's Books and Stories
Taming Mr. Black
Billionaires Welcome to Club K. Home for the finest and wealthiest men in the country. Owned by playboy Billionaire, Killian Black. The handsome, cocky, and dominant bachelor with a shitty reputation.
He has one simple rule: Never mix work with pleasure.
Born and raised in a family who worked hard for what they get, Naomi Alderson despises privileged men, especially this particularly attractive, and annoyingly sexy Billionaire, Killian Black, who happens to be her boss. A man who doesn't even know she existed.
She has one simple rule: Never get involved with privileged men, especially Killian Black.
But what happens when the mysterious, Arrogant Killian Black sets eyes on shy, innocent Naomi Alderson? A girl he never knew existed. And one thing's for sure, Killian is willing to break every of his rules to get her in his bed.
Even if he has to win her heart first.
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Property Of a Millionaire
Fanoffans6 Synopsis: "I like to pull on your hair, see you struggle to breathe, watch you reach your climax, and then stop you from reaching your high." He said all of that without stopping and that made me shake in my fucking boots.
"I-I, no?" I wasn't sure what to say when someone approaches you for a job and says that.
"I don't like when people say no to me. I will be respected. You, Miles Stevenson, will respect me." His voice was cold as ice. His stare froze my insides. He got up from his desk and walked over to me in strong strides in a matter of seconds.
He was dangerously attractive, his voice and tone were filled with a Russian accent, but it was barely there. Online, it read that his family was from Russia, he was born here but moved to America at the young age of 3.
"You're a cute, small pet. I think I'll be taking you." He talked with no fear in his voice, he was straightforward when he talked. His large hand came up to my face and his thumb stroked my cheek and then moved back to my hair and tugged on it a bit. I nudged my head back as a moan came out my throat and past my lips.
"There we go, you little masochist." He licked his lips and came down to my neck, kissing my sensitive skin. My hands flew up to his chest but he smacked them away and grabbed them.
Placing them above my head, his smirk only grew when I closed my eyes and groaned as his leg went up against my growing manhood.
That got Hot. Maybe you should read the rest and find out what happens between a 22-year-old and hot Russian Millionaire Don. Or the one with a cute genius boy who just got out of a long-term relationship comes for a job as an assistant with an older Russian Millionaire who doesn't take shit from anyone. {Gayyy, Slight S/m & Russian hotties)
Author: Fanoffans6
Publisher:EasyReading Mummery
Gilbert Cannan This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1919 Excerpt: ...loss of humanity. Henceforth she must deal with realities, leaving him to his painted mummery.... She could understand his frenzy, his fury, his despair. \"That will do, Charles,\" she said very quietly. \"I will see what can be done about Mr. Clott, and whatever happens I will see that you are not harmed.... If you like, you can dine with Verschoyle and me tonight. You can come home with me now, while I dress. I am to meet him at the Carlton and then we are going on to the Opera.\" \"Does Verschoyle know?\" \"He knows that you are you and that I am I---that is all he cares about.... He is a good man. If people must have too much money, he is the right man to have it. He would never let a man down for want of money--if the man was worth it.\" \"Ah!\" said Charles, reassured. This was like the old Clara speaking, but with more assurance, a more certain knowledge and less bewildering intuition and guess-work. A Few weeks later, with Verschoyle and a poor relation of his, a Miss Vibart Withers, for chaperone, Clara left London in a 60 h.p. Fiat, which voraciously ate up the Bath Road at the rate of a mile every minute and a half.... It was good to be out of the thick heat of London, invaded by foreigners and provincials and turned into a city of pleasure and summer-frocks, so that its normal life was submerged, its character hidden. The town became as lazy and drowsy a spectacle as a field of poppies over which danced gay and brilliant butterflies. Very sweet was it then to turn away from it, and all that was happening in it, to the sweet air and to fly along between green fields and orchards, through little towns, at intervals to cross the Thames and to feel that with each crossing London lay so much farther away. Henle...