The Billionaire's Bargain (First Desire: Taming Savannah)

By

Denise Avery

SMASHWORDS EDITION

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PUBLISHED BY:

Red Garnet Media LLC on Smashwords

For His Needs: Love And Submission Series
#1

Copyright © 2013 by Denise Avery

This book is a work of fiction and any
resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or
locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of
the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

Adult Reading Material

The material in this document contains
explicit sexual content that is intended for mature audiences only
and is inappropriate for readers under 18 years of age.

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FOR HIS NEEDS:

Love And Submission Series #1

* * * * *

“One... Two... Three...”

“Savannah, cut it out.”

“Four... Five... This is absolutely
ridiculous.”

“Just give it up. Everyone gets it. You’re
hilarious. Enough!”

“Come on, Claire. Don’t be such a spoil
sport. Where’s your school spirit?”

Claire Baxter rolled her eyes and took
another sip of her iced coffee. She and her best friend Savannah
Pearson were sitting outside their favorite on-campus coffee shop,
as they tended to do most mornings when they had class. Well, when
Claire had class, that was. Savannah wasn’t exactly the academic
type. This was why, instead of attending her 8:00 am
Representations of Women lecture, she had decided instead to camp
out with a gigantic latte and play Spot the Hipster—her favorite
extracurricular activity. Seeing as she and Claire attended a
rather prestigious art school in New York City, there were plenty
of hipsters to be spotted.

“It’s like shooting fish in a barrel,”
Savannah said, scowling as a girl walked by them in an over-sized
tee-shirt featuring a sequined owl, ratty high-waisted shorts, and
the ubiquitous Doc Martens.

“Why do you care?” Claire asked, shaking her
head at Savannah’s past time. “They’re not hurting you, are
they?”

“Only my eyes,” Savannah responded, chuckling
under her breath.

“You’re not exactly a conservative dresser
yourself, you know,” Claire chided, giving Savannah a pointed
once-over. Savannah glanced down at her attire, she couldn't see
what the problem was. School had just started up again, which made
this the fall of the girls’ senior year at college. Savannah was
dressed in a thin cotton crop-top and low-rise hot shorts. Her
straight black hair cascaded over her pale shoulders down to her
waist. Though she had a pair of dirty Chuck Taylors in her bag,
Savannah had abandoned them for the moment, preferring to be bare
foot as much as possible. She smiled, enjoying Claire’s prudish
attention.

“I’m just trying to use as little material as
possible when it comes to my personal effects,” Savannah grinned,
“We’re in the middle of an energy crisis, you know.”

Claire sighed, but didn’t say a word. There
was no arguing with Savannah, and there never had been. Claire and
Savannah had been best friends quite literally for their entire
lives. Not only had they come to college together, they’d also
spent their high school, elementary school, and diaper days as
practically sisters. Even before the girls had been born, their
mothers had lived next-door to each other and spent their
pregnancies sipping herbal tea and running through baby name books
together.

Savannah and Claire were perfect opposites,
which made them the ideal set of best friends. Their mothers had
joked about naming them Betty and Veronica, because of their looks.
Claire was tall, curvy, and blonde. She’d be an absolute bombshell
if she wasn’t so modest about flaunting her stuff. Savannah, on the
other hand, was a slip of a girl who didn’t even clear five feet.
She’d been scrawny and squeaky as a kid, never the type to be
called “pretty”. All that had changed when she’d reached the ripe
age of twelve and transformed into an irresistible nymphette.

Any jokes about mousiness, or teasing about
being so skinny, had evaporated once Savannah’s natural sex appeal
began to shine through. Soon, it wasn’t just little boys who were
mesmerized by her, it was older boys. Even grown men stopped to
stare at the little vixen making her way through the park or
shopping mall. There was a raw, sensual quality about Savannah that
one could see coming from a mile away. And even though Savannah was
perfectly aware of this, she had been humbled by her early years as
a runt. She wasn’t one of those girls who had come out of the womb
with a beauty pageant crown glued to her head. She’d had to
cultivate a sense of humor and a sharp wit as a kid in order to be
extraordinary. The fact that she wasn’t just a pretty face endeared
her even more to her admirers, of which there were many.

“Hey, ‘Vannah!” a voice called from across
the city street. Savannah looked up and, seeing who had summoned
her, let out an audible groan. It was some goon from her morning
class, all dressed up in his undergraduate uniform of a hoodie and
blue jeans. Every once in a while, one of these bland, dime a dozen
college boys would come to the false conclusion that Savannah might
ever be interested in him. Not a one had ever been correct in this
assumption, obviously. Still, they kept trying, like sailors
dashing themselves against the cliffs in pursuit of the sirens’
song. And this particular chap was no different. He made his way
across the street, nearly getting hit by a city bus en route, and
came up to the table where Claire and Savannah were sitting.

“What is it,” Savannah drawled, not bothering
to utter the phrase as a question.

“Just wanted to come say hi!” the boy said,
beaming down at Savannah with puppy dog adoration. “You weren’t in
class this morning!”

“Why would I be in class this morning,
Jeremy?” Savannah asked.

“Why...? I mean... Cause we’re in school?”
Jeremy said, a bit bemused. Savannah sighed theatrically and
lowered the heart-shaped sunglasses from her face. She fixed a
withering stare on the boy, which prompted Claire to avert her eyes
in preemptive sympathy.

“Here’s the thing, Jere,” Savannah began, as
if speaking to a particularly slow five-year-old, “The only reason
I deigned to attend this circus of a university was because they
gave me a whole lot of money to live in the city for a few years
and pretend to give a shit about their courses. You know, or at
least you should, that not one of these classroom suck-fests
requires even more than a smidge of common sense to ace. Why, then,
would I waste my time attending a class called Representations of
Women when the only people offering opinions in said class are
pre-sexual morons like you who have never met, and certainly never
been with, a woman of real quality?”

A heavy dome of silence fell over the three
students as Savannah wrapped up her tirade. Jeremy stared at her,
slack jawed. Claire cleared her throat and offered him a pitying
smile.

“You can go now,” Claire prompted, “It’s
over.”

The shellshocked boy turned on his heel and
hurried away, demolished by Savannah’s tongue lashing. Claire shook
her head, not at all surprised by Savannah’s antics.

“What?” Savannah demanded, “He called me
‘Vannah’, for God’s sake.”

“Still,” Claire said, “I wish you wouldn’t go
for the weak ones. It’s like those animal planet videos where the
alligator pops out of the water and swallows up the smallest
antelope.”

Savannah snapped her jaws playfully in
response. Claire couldn’t help but giggle at her best friend’s
antics. However extreme or audacious Savannah could sometimes be,
she was an extraordinary girl, and Claire felt lucky to have
her.

“What does the rest of the day look like for
you?” Savannah asked Claire, as they gathered their belongings.

“Let’s see,” Claire said, “I’ve got
back-to-back classes until three, then I have to meet with my
advisor to talk about dropping that double major in Polynesian
Studies, then back to the studio for my independent study, then I
have to race across to town to get to work at Andy’s Cafe.”

“I thought you were still working at that
kids store?”

“I am. I do both.”

“I’m telling you, Claire. You put yourself
through way too much shit. How do you have time to have any fun at
all?”

“I have plenty of fun when I’m not working!
Or in class...” Claire said unconvincingly. “Besides, me and Tommy
have plenty of fun when—”

“Ugh!” Savannah cried, holding up her hands
to keep Claire from going on, “If you love me at all, you will not
start talking about your heinous boyfriend again! I makes me too
sad to think about it for more than a second. I don’t understand,
Claire. You’ve got the whole Marilyn Monroe thing going on, and you
continue to slum it with that loser?”

“Well, Savannah, not everyone is quite as
confident as you.”

“It’s not just about confidence,” Savannah
said, “It’s ignoring the things and people who tell you that you
can’t have what you want. Now, maybe this is what you want. You
know, a billion classes, three jobs, a shitty boyfriend, a shittier
apartment... But I’m guessing that if you were honest with
yourself, your ideal situation would look a little different than
it does now.”

“...Maybe,” Claire allowed, looking
sullen.

“‘Maybe’? Well. It’s a start,” Savannah said.
“I’ve got to run, my sweet. I have a meeting with professor
Donnelly.”

“Isn’t that the professor whose class you
just skipped?”

“Yeah. I prefer to catch him during office
hours. I need personal attention.”

“Oh, Savannah.”

“See you later, love!” Savannah called,
sauntering down the street away from Claire. She could feel the
eyes of passing strangers linger a tad too long on her bare
midriff, her smooth and firm legs, the luscious little swell of her
tight ass. As used as she was to perpetual attention, Savannah
never felt overwhelmed. She knew that the world looked kindly upon
her for the most part, and recognized that people developed certain
opinions about her from the way she looked. She knew that most men
and quite a few women wanted to fuck her, she knew that those who
didn’t want to fuck her would often dismiss her as an air-headed
slut.

Miraculously, Savannah managed not to let
either camp change the way she thought about herself. All she knew
was that the things she wanted could all be within her reach if she
used her gifts to her advantage. She didn’t take advantage of the
fact that she was a stunning specimen of humanity; she merely used
the tools that were available to her. Nothing at all to be sorry
for, there!

She finally arrived at her location, the arts
and sciences building at the heart of campus. Savannah attended
class so seldom that she sometimes had trouble finding her way
around campus, even after four years as a student there. Still,
this building had lately become one of her favorite places to
visit. And it had nothing to do with her major, that was for
sure.

Savannah strode past the security guard,
flipping her student ID past his glazed-over eyes. She could still
feel his eyes on her modest but pert chest as the elevator doors
slid closed. The lift was rather crammed at this time of day, and
she found herself pressed against a rather dour-looking female
professor. The woman must have been in her late fifties, and
sported an ill-fitting pantsuit and what appeared to be a Bumpit in
her wiry red hair.

The older lady stared down her nose at
Savannah, who at four eleven was not exactly towering over anyone.
Savannah caught her disapproving eye and grinned. Lowering her
lids, Savannah ran her tongue over her full, pink lips, never for a
moment breaking eye contact with the professor. The woman blushed
brilliantly and sputtered incoherently for a moment before the
doors slid open to Savannah’s floor. The girl curtsied prettily and
elbowed the woman out of her way. While it may have been true that
people’s poor opinions of her didn’t bother Savannah in a long-term
sort of way, she had no problem giving finger-waggers a bit of a
once over when they darkened her day.

All things considered, Savannah was a pretty
happy person. Sure, she had her ups and downs like anyone else, but
ultimately, things seemed to roll off her back. Technically, she
had come to school to study creative writing and studio art, having
been talented at both growing up. She knew full well that neither
of these concentrations necessarily led to a life of glitz and
glamour, that it was very unlikely that she’d end up being able to
make a living with her creativity alone. But the thing was,
Savannah had never intended to make money with her art in the first
place. If she painted a canvas or penned a story, it wasn’t for the
sake of cashing in on it later. Rather, creativity had its place,
and that place was far away from enterprise. Savannah didn’t know
exactly how she might make a living in the long run, but for the
moment she was doing just fine.