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Kimberly’s Surprise Party

Billionaire Breeding Club – 3

Cordova Skye





Barnes & Noble  Kobo  Excitica


Innocent Kimberly doesn’t understand why her parents are so strict about how she dresses and who she spends time with, until her 18th birthday. She wakes up from her party groggy from drugs, and in a room she doesn’t recognize.

Years before, Kim’s father promised to deliver her – pure and untouched – to his boss, rather than face charges for embezzlement. Now, Kim is the prized possession of a man who’s rich enough to do whatever he wants…and what he wants is to fill her fertile young body with his potent seed.

This 10,000+ word first time erotic story is intended for adults over 18 only. Includes impregnation, lactation, pregnant intercourse and multiple partners.


He tipped her head back, kissing her, his lips forcing hers apart and his tongue pressing into her mouth. Kimberly tried to struggle away, but the arm that wrapped around her back was strong, unyielding in spite of the traces of grey in his hair, and left her no choice but to submit to the invasion. He pulled her close, pressing her breasts tight to his strong chest, her nipples tightening to hard peaks as they rubbed across his shirt and the dampness between her legs growing. Her heart pounded in her ears, in time with the heat that throbbed from her breasts to her lower belly and still lower.

She staggered when he finally let her go, breathless and shaking. She wanted him to kiss her like that again, wanted his hands touching her in all the ways she’d been forbidden to touch herself, but instead he stepped back. “Get dressed,” he said. “You’ll remember your lessons better if you’ve had breakfast and a chance to wake up.”

Dully, Kimberly nodded. He had told her to get dressed before he kissed her, but where the prospect of being naked in front of him had been horribly embarrassing before, now she only wanted to entice him back into touching her. She reached up to take a blouse off its hanger, trying to stretch and show off her modest breasts as she did so. The blouse itself was flimsy and sheer white; it clung to her when she buttoned it, clearly outlining the hard, dark peaks of her nipples. A tight, short skirt followed, hugging her hips and short enough that one wrong move would reveal her lack of underwear.

Her mother would have said she looked like a whore. The cool air caressing the dampness on her bare thighs certainly made her feel like one.

Good, she thought, in a heady burst of defiance. She was tired of being a saint.