Mr. Billionaire

MR. BILLIONAIRE AYLA LONG Copyright © 2022 by Ayla Long All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. CONTENTS 1. Divya 2. Noah 3. Divya 4. Divya 5. Divya 6. Divya 7. Noah 8. Divya 9. Noah 10. Divya 11. Noah 12. Divya 13. Noah 14. Noah 15. Divya 16. Noah 17. Divya 18. Divya 19. Divya 20. Divya 21. Noah 22. Divya 23. Noah 24. Divya 25. Divya 26. Noah 27. Divya 28. Noah 29. Divya 30. Noah 31. Divya 32. Noah 33. Divya 34. Divya 35. Noah 36. Divya 37. Noah 38. Divya 39. Noah 40. Divya 41. Noah 42. Noah 43. Divya 44. Divya 45. Noah 46. Divya 47. Noah 48. Divya 49. Divya 50. Noah 51. Divya 52. Noah 53. Noah 54. Divya 55. Noah 56. Divya 57. Noah 58. Divya 59. Noah 60. Noah 61. Divya 62. Noah 63. Noah 64. Divya 65. Noah 66. Noah 67. Divya 68. Divya 69. Noah 70. Divya 71. Noah 72. Divya 73. Divya 74. Noah 75. Divya 76. Divya 77. Noah 78. Divya 1 DIVYA I felt terribly self-conscious as I walked into the bar. Trendy night clubs had never been my style and neither had provocative clothes; but as my best friend Alyssa reminded me, I was going to have to be willing to get out of my comfort zone if I ever wanted to get anywhere as a reporter. Tonight, I was as far as out of my comfort zone as possible! I usually wore my auburn hair pulled back in a conservative ponytail, but tonight I had left it loose and it hung down my back in soft wavy curls. Alyssa had done my make-up, painting my pouty lips bright red, covering my peaches and cream complexion with blush, and lining my green eyes with heavy mascara and smoky eye shadow. “I’m going to look like a tramp in all that goop!” I had tried to resist, but she ignored my complaints and covered me with the make-up anyway. “Don’t be ridiculous, Divya! The make-up won’t make you look slutty, but this dress will!” Alyssa teased and handed me the designer dress she was letting me borrow from her closet. “Everything you have makes you look like a high-school principal or librarian. You want to attract this guy, not repel him.” Sighing heavily, I slipped on the dress by Dior and gasped at the image I saw reflected back at me in her full-length mirror. The little black dress was extremely low cut, with a plunging V cut neckline that showed more of my ample tits than it covered. The expensive and supple fabric clung to me like a second skin, revealing every curve of my body in more detail than I wanted, amplifying my cleavage and clearly showing my nipples protruding provocatively. The hemline of the dress was dangerously short, barely covering my ass; although, I did like the way it made my tan legs look long and lean, especially with the addition of her five-inch Jimmy Choo shoes. I looked like sex on stilts, and the mere thought made me blush. “How do I look?” I asked Alyssa, needing the opinion of another girl and the support of my best friend. Her hazel eyes narrowed as she appraised me, and her blonde curls bobbed as she shook her head. Crossing her arms across her chest, she frowned with disapproval and said, “You’re going to have to take them off.” “What?” I asked, feeling totally confused and more than a little hurt. She pointed at my panty line, which was clearly visible through the clingy fabric of the dress, and said unabashedly, “The granny panties. They ruin the look of the outfit. You’re going to have to take them off.” I blushed bright pink and shook my head vehemently. “I can’t go out in public with no underwear on! Especially in a dress this short! The moment I sit down, everyone will see my whooey.” “It’s called a vagina; how are you going to use it to seduce this guy if you can’t even say it?” Alyssa rolled her eyes at me in disgust. She looked sexy as hell with her body squeezed into a bright blue halter dress. I knew the club was going to be packed with women just as hot and experienced as she was, and if I wanted a chance at getting near my target, I was going to have to go prepared to play. “Okay, they’re coming off,” I said and reluctantly stripped off my favorite pair of cotton panties. When I looked in the mirror at the smooth curves of my firm buttocks, I had to admit that she was right; I did look a lot sexier now. Still, I knew I would be more nervous than ever walking into the bar commando style. Looking at Alyssa with my green eyes begging, I said, “Don’t you have anything I can wear that will be more appropriate?” “Here, they still have the tag on them, never been worn.” Alyssa tossed me what looked like a headband, but turned out to be a black lace thong. Grateful for even the most minimal coverage, I snipped off the tag and pulled on the tiny garment. It wasn’t much, but it did give me the comfort of knowing that if I tried to sit on a barstool, no one would be able to give me a gynecological exam. “Thanks.” I sighed with relief. Then I looked at her clock on the wall and saw it was time to go. “It’s eleven o’clock. He should just be arriving at Club Raw. Let’s go.” “Do you have everything?” Alyssa asked me, knowing how forgetful I got when I was nervous. I peeked in my little black beaded handbag