Buchanan Romance 1 - Coerced - Alexx Andria.pdf

(613 KB) Pobierz
Blackmailed by the Billionaire
By Alexx Andria
By Alexx Andria
© 2015 Alexx Andria. All rights reserved.
No part of this
may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the
publisher. All characters are fictitious and any resemblance to an actual person is purely coincidental.
Cover design by Kim Van Meter
The following
is approximately 45,000 words and an original work of fiction.
Want a FREE read from
bestselling author Alexx Andria/Kinsey McClane? New
subscribers to her newsletter will receive their choice of one of three erotic short stories guaranteed
to set your ereader on fire!
Just click on the link and you will be whisked away to the sign up form. Easy-peasy!
Nobody says no to billionaire Sutton Buchanan. Nobody with a survival instinct or an ounce
of common sense, anyway. That’s because he’s a cruel, ruthless bastard who will stop at nothing to
get what he wants – including the curvy blonde artist who just gave him the brush-off.
Elizabeth Downing is desperate and time is running out. Her one chance at landing an
exhibition at the Covington Art Museum has been shot down in flames. The shy, insecure artist
can’t give her art away, much less sell it. How was she going to continue supporting her disabled
sister, without selling off a kidney?
Unfortunately for Elizabeth, her family tragedy is Sutton’s opportunity. Sutton makes
Elizabeth a shocking offer that no good man would ever suggest. But Sutton has never pretended to
be a good man.
Now he’s going to own her — body and soul.
He’s going to push past her limits.
He’s going to see where her breaking point is.
But he won’t make the same mistake his cousins made by falling in love with his plaything.
Elizabeth’s about to find out, the words “love” and “mercy” aren’t in Sutton Buchanan’s
Bookmark: 1
Sutton Buchanan idly walked the upscale Covington Art House. His bored gaze flicked with
disinterest over the current pieces gracing the exhibit walls.
When had art become so damn boring? Blah, blah, blah, the same old shit on every wall. No
sense of emotion or passion.
Wasn’t that what art was supposed to do? Spark some kind of reaction?
Hell, he was no fucking art major but this shit?
Boring as fuck.
Sutton rounded the corner and nearly ran into a short, round, plainly agitated blonde who
dropped her art portfolio with a small shriek at the unexpected contact.
“Oh! Ohmygracious! Sorry...” She pushed her glasses deeper on the bridge of her nose and then
bent to collect her spilled artwork, her small hands fluttering with anxiety as she attempted to quickly
grab her art and bail. It was then he realized she was crying.
Intrigued, Sutton began to help but she brushed him off.
“I got it, thanks.” She sniffed and shoved the artwork deeper in her bag before hustling off,
leaving Sutton with a very nice view of her generous ass.
That was one squeezable, spankable
he thought with interest.
Long blonde hair trailed down her back in gentle curls and waves and he was struck with the
image of twisting that gorgeous mane in his palm, bowing the woman as he rammed his cock between
those luscious cheeks.
Amusement curled his lips, his licentious thoughts interrupted by the effeminate voice of the art
house director. “Mr. Buchanan...what a pleasure.”
With a small sigh of regret, he turned to accept the limp handshake of the director. “Mr. Polk, I
“You presume correct,” Polk tittered, clasping his hands together before gesturing toward his
office. “Let us discuss business in my office...or should I say,
office?” He tittered again,
believing himself clever. “To be owned by a Buchanan...one can only dream.”
Sutton suffered a short smile for the sake of the director. Buchanan Enterprises had recently
acquired Covington Art House and his west coast cousins, Dillon, Vince and Nolan — otherwise
known as
the cocksuckers
— had foisted the details onto him to smooth out.
Polk drifted into a seat like a butterfly and graced Sutton with a blinding, too-white smile. “What
do you think of Covington? Honest opinions, please.”
“I think it’s fucking boring,” Sutton returned easily, enjoying Polk’s instant wilting. “It’s stuffy
and staid. My grandmother has edgier art in her bathroom than this place. It’s a wonder you’ve
managed to keep the doors open.”
Clearly not the reaction Polk had been expecting but Sutton enjoyed putting people off their
And the man had asked for honesty.
“I see,” Polk straightened, losing his flirty behavior and stiffening a little. “We have some of the
most esteemed artists of the area gracing our walls. What exactly do you find so
as you say?”
Sutton shrugged. “There’s no life. There’s no danger, no sense of challenge. The artists are
comfortable and it comes out in their work.”
“I see,” Polk repeated, uncomfortable. “Well--“
“Tell me about the artist that left in tears...the girl.”
Polk stared blankly. “The girl?”
“Yeah, the one that left minutes ago. What’s her story?”
Suddenly remembering, Polk gave a small dismissive shudder. “The fat one?”
Sutton smiled coldly. “Yes.”
Polk must’ve sensed he was on dangerous ground.
Zgłoś jeśli naruszono regulamin