Sold to a Futanari Billionaire

Chelsea can’t escape her past. After her one-night stand with the futanari billionaire Michelle Tanaka,
she’s confronted by Michelle’s rival, the controversial socialite Chantelle
LeBron and is given an offer she can’t refuse: meet her musical idol, and have
wild, limitless futanari sex. It seems that as soon as a rich futanari crosses
her path, Chelsea loses all control and her desire for futa-fun takes over. But this time, she may be in over her head. This time, there may be more to this
encounter than just sex with a well-hung woman.

SOLD TO A FUTANARI
BILLIONAIRE is the second book in the FUTANARI BILLIONAIRE series, and is over
12,000 words of intense, hardcore sex between a futanari and a female, with
some threesome action thrown in for extra fun!

~~~~~
PG Excerpt ~~~~~

She knew she was being
followed. No matter which twist or turn she took, or however out of her regular
route she went, the black car persisted in trailing behind her. It was getting
scary. At first, Chelsea thought it might be Michelle Tanaka, the billionaire
half-Japanese beauty and pharmaceuticals magnate who had been her lover for a night, but would Michelle really do this? The teenager hadn’t known Michelle
long, but she knew it wasn’t like her to simply skulk behind her like a predator. If Michelle wanted to speak to her, all she had to do was pull up next to her and—

“So how long are you going to keep running away from me, hon?”

Chelsea froze. She turned to the tanned face peering out of the tinted window.

“Surprise!” the woman said,
and then giggled. “Remember me?”

How could she forget? That
bleach blonde hair, that sharp nose, those eight-hundred-dollar sunglasses.
This wasn’t the tall, fierce Michelle Tanaka, but rather her younger gambling
partner; the socialite billionaire heiress Chantelle LeBron.

And her white Pomeranian
yipping in her arms.

“H-hello Miss LeBron.”

She laughed. “Miss LeBron?
Honey, come on. I know you served me drinks, but I’ve seen you naked! I think
we can be a little less formal with each other.”

Heat rose to Chelsea’s face
at the memory. Sure, she had made a killing that night as the naked cocktail
waitress to Michelle, Chantelle and Trisha — three billionaires who could buy and sell people without a second thought. But it had cost her no small amount
of self-respect, which she was only just starting to recover.

“Did you have fun with
Michelle after your shift?” There was suddenly a sharp barb in Chantelle’s
tone.

She didn’t like the sound of it one bit.

“W-what do you want?”

The billionaire in the limo
beamed. “To give you a ride! Hop in, I’ll take you wherever you’re going.”

Chelsea didn’t exactly want
the socialite taking her home, thus knowing where she lived. She had wanted to put that night at the casino behind her, and Chantelle’s presence was making
that very hard. “I’m just out for a run. I’m not going anywhere.”

The heiress raised an eyebrow. “You have to go home some time.” She motioned with her head.

“Come on. I won’t bite. And neither will this little guy.” She held up the dopey-looking Pomeranian. “He’ll
be so sad if Chelsea doesn’t come for a ride with us, won’t he?” she said in baby talk. “He loves it when pretty girls ride in his car, doesn’t he?”

Chelsea crossed her arms over
her chest as a chilly breeze wafted by. She figured she could just ask Chantelle to drop her off a few streets away — assuming she didn’t keep
following her after. If she did, she’d just call the cops.

If the cops would even
believe her that she was being stalked by a billionaire socialite like
Chantelle LeBron.

“Okay, sure. I’ll get in.”