Though, with luck, his representative will be far easier to talk to.

  “We’re here,” the taxi driver says, pulling into a free spot down the street from the club.

  I pay the driver and leave the cab, stretching in the cool night air. I can already hear the thump of the music from here, and there’s a long line stretching down the block. I ignore the line completely and, when he sees me coming, the bouncer nods and lets me in, to several groans of disappointment. I try not to take advantage of too many of the perks of being a billionaire, but tonight, I need to escape from everything as quickly as possible.

  I make my way to the bar and down my first drink immediately. The music is so loud that it’s hard to even hear myself think, but that’s what I wanted. I gesture for another drink; I’m going to forget all my troubles just for a few hours and have fun. I can worry about the proposal in the morning.

  I’d only planned to hang around for a few hours and then go home. As the pleasant buzz of alcohol slowly works its way through my system, I take to the dance floor; I can dance for a little while and then make my way out.

  Then someone bumps into me.

  When I caught her, I did so on instinct, reaching out for a falling body. The first thing I notice is that’s she’s beautiful. She has long black hair that tumbles down her back in waves, bangs framing her face. Her eyes are a striking green and her cheeks are flushed. Her build is slight and she’s wearing a short dress that flutters about her thighs and dips down to her breasts.

  I want to dance with her. She laughs at my movements but she dances back, bobbing up and down to the music with far more grace than I have. We whirl around, moving closer and closer to one another. When I ask for her name, she gives it readily, so I give mine in return.

  It’s intoxicating. Thrilling. God, this woman is perfect and I need her. All thoughts of going home flee my mind. I’m not going anywhere unless Amanda is with me.

  It’s this which drives me to lean down so that she can hear me.

  “Want to get out of here?” I ask. I wonder if she can hear just how much I want her in my voice. “I know a place nearby.”

  “Sounds great,” she says. Her arms wind around my neck as she smiles. “Lead the way.”

  There’s a hotel nearby. The trip there is a blur of touch and need in the back seat of a taxi. At the hotel, I flash a card and then I’m pressing Amanda up against the wall of the elevator, not caring to check if we’re alone. Everything is moving so quickly, a whirl of color, sound and alcohol. When the elevator dings, we stumble out, unable to keep our hands to ourselves. It’s a wonder we find the right room, but the door clicks open behind me when I wave the card reception must have given me at some point, and we almost fall inside.

  Then the clothes start flying. Amanda attacks my shirt first, ripping the buttons through each hole, and I fumble with the zip at the back of her dress.

  “Fuck, I want you so bad,” I pant.

  “God, just touch me,” she groans.

  Her touch is electric as her hands slide down my arms while she pushes my shirt back. It drops to the floor behind me and I push her back toward the bed, stumbling toward it until her knees hit the mattress and we tumble down onto it. Her dress is open now and it’s slid down her arms to reveal her lacy white bra. I tug it down, full of the fervent need to feel more of her.

  I feel her hands at my belt, tugging roughly on it to pull it out of the buckle. Her hands brush against my cock, and my hips buck at the sensation.

  It all feels so good. I never want her to stop touching me. Pleasure races through me and heat is burning around us, sweat beading on my face. Amanda raises her hips so I can peel her dress down her legs, leaving her in nothing but her bra and panties. My belt loosens and Amanda’s fingers play with my zipper. She teasingly rubs my hardness through my jeans and I groan deeply, needing more than this.

  “I want to feel your fingers wrapped around my cock,”

  She sits up, bracing herself on her elbows. Her eyes are glittering and the want on her face is intoxicating, making me reach out and grip her hips hard. She spreads her legs so that I can step between them. She’s already wet, soaking her panties, and her limbs are trembling with need.

  “Then take off your pants,” she replies in a low voice.

  Shit. I push my pants down, taking my boxers with them, and my cock finally springs free, bouncing eagerly. My hips buck into thin air and I step out of my pants, kicking them aside.

  “You’re already so hard for me,” Amanda purrs.

  I don’t get a chance to reply before Amanda reaches out and wraps her hand around my hard cock, lightly at first and then more firmly as she rubs her palm up and down the length, smearing her fingers in the moisture gathering at the tip. My knees weaken and I grip her hips hard for anchorage, groaning. Fuck, it feels so good. If this is how it feels just to have her touch me, then how will it feel when I’m buried deep inside her?

  I thrust into Amanda’s hand. She scrapes her nails lightly on the skin, and goosebumps rise all over my body at the feeling. This feels so absolutely amazing. I don’t want her to stop.

  But my heart is beating loudly in my ears, and I know that I’ll burst if this keeps going. I don’t want her to stop but I want to be inside her and feel how she clenches around me. I need her so badly that I can’t even think straight.

  So I push her back. She doesn’t look surprised. Instead, there’s anticipation on her face as her back hits the bed, her hair splayed around her head.

  “Going to fuck me now?” she asks.

  Blood rushes through me. I didn’t think it was possible to be any more aroused.

  “I’m going to fuck you hard,” I promise.

  She grins and reaches up to hold my shoulders, her legs wrapping around my waist. We’re so close now that we’re almost one. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I wonder how both of us will feel about this in the morning.

  Then I cast the thought aside. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that I want Amanda here and now.

  Chapter Three

  Amanda

  I can’t get enough of Lyle. His musky scent surrounds me as I pump his cock in my hand, drawing cries and moans out of him that shoot straight through me. I almost want to toss him down and ride him if it means getting fucked sooner, but teasing him like this is equally arousing. He’s completely lost in the pleasure I’m giving him, his hips bucking forward desperately as he seeks more and more.

  His eyes are fluttering in the throes of passion, and the debauched look on his face sears itself into my mind. I want to remember this and know that I was the one who put that look on his face. It makes me feel sexy and powerful as he looks at me like I’m the most amazing thing he’s ever seen.

  Then he pushes me away. He’s panting heavily and he braces himself over me. I’m not surprised; I could feel from the tenseness of his body that he was very close.

  “Going to fuck me now?” I ask in a low voice.

  His voice catches and pure lust flashes across his face.

  “I’m going to fuck you hard,” he promises.

  I reach out to grip his shoulders and wrap my legs around his hips, drawing him in even closer. Fuck, I want him so bad right now. Then, as his hands grab my hips, a tiny bit of common sense breaks through the fog in my mind.

  “Wait,” I gasp.

  He pauses. I can feel his body trembling as he forces himself to still, so hard and needy that it’s difficult to stop for even a moment.

  “What?” he asks roughly.

  “Condom… Do you have one?” I groan.

  I don’t know Lyle. He doesn’t know me. We need to protect ourselves. Lyle groans, thinking, and then he straightens and pulls back.

  “Jeans… Wallet,” he pants.

  He picks his jeans up and fumbles in the pocket, pulling his wallet out. He opens it and pulls out a little packet, dropping the wallet carelessly to the ground once he’s done.

  Then Lyle meets my eyes and rips the packet open with his teeth. My breath catches as I watch his tongue flick out and he drops the ripped packet to the ground. I watch with bated breath as he slowly reaches down, swirling his hips slightly to give me a show, and rolls the rubber over his thick cock inch by inch. I watch with hungry eyes, already anticipating the moment that he’ll be inside me.

  “Fuck, please…” I pant.

  Lyle surges back toward me, gripping my hips in a bruising hold. I fall back as he lines up, finally, at my entrance, and he meets my eyes before pushing slowly forward.

  It’s amazing. The momentary pain at the breach is swept away in lust as Lyle slides inside me slowly, pushing in carefully. We’re both shuddering at the contact, and my thighs flex around his waist as my nails dig into his shoulders.

  “Faster,” I moan.

  Lyle surges forward another inch and then he’s seated fully inside me, my muscles clenching around him. I can feel every inch of his cock within me, thick and pulsing. We pause for a moment, gasping, too overwhelmed and on edge to do anything else.

  When the sudden rush of pleasure fades away slightly and I no longer feel as though I’ll orgasm at the slightest movement, I shift slightly toward Lyle, wriggling my hips against him. He pushes forward accidentally at the movement, and we both groan.

  “You feel so good wrapped around my cock like this,” Lyle says, his chest heaving.

  “Move,” I tell him in return. “Fuck me hard, Lyle.”

  Lyle pulls out and snaps back in. There’s nothing gentle about his thrusts, and I buck my hips up to meet him each time, desperate for more of him. I want to take him in as deep as I can, and my body greedily sucks at his cock, clenching tightly to make it more difficult for him to leave. Sweat is pouring down my face and my hands drop to the bed so I can clutch the covers.

  Then black washes momentarily across my vision as pleasure explodes within me. Lyle has angled his thrusts differently, and he’s hit a spot that makes me cry out, too overwhelmed to even form words.

  He does it again and again, and my movements become clumsier as I struggle to keep up, too close to the edge to do anything other than babble and hold on. Lyle is panting over me, and I feel so hot that I’m going to burst.

  With one last strike, I tip over. Spots race across my eyes and I throw my head back with a guttural cry as my body clenches tightly around Lyle. He thrusts three more times and then he shudders, too. We ride out our orgasms together, his hands tight around my hips.

  Slowly, the world begins to return to normal. I’m panting, trying to catch my breath. I know we haven’t been in this room for very long, but the sex just now was so intense that I can barely remember what I was doing before I met Lyle. I feel him slowly slide out of me, the movement sending sharp sparks through my tired body, and then he crashes down beside me with a tired groan. I look over at him, meeting his hazel eyes, and he smiles at me.

  “Wow,” he says.

  I can’t help but laugh. Simply saying “wow” feels like a vast understatement. Everything that just happened was so amazing and intimate. I almost wish that we could have carried on for a lot longer than that, teasing each other and chasing each other to the brink.

  “Are you staying?” Lyle asks hopefully.

  “Well, you paid for the room,” I say teasingly. “Seems a waste not to use it.”

  Lyle grins and we scoot up to the pillows, sliding underneath the covers. We snuggle down in them and my arm brushes against him. There’s a lot that I want to say, or that I should say after all that. Maybe ask him a bit more about himself, or why he was at Grande, or even if he’ll still be here in the morning.

  But a wave of exhaustion hits me, and my eyes slip closed. I’m too tired to wonder about any of that right now. I can deal with it all in the morning.

  My alarm clock starts me awake.

  I gasp and sit up, momentarily confused about where I am. My head is pounding and I remember that I had a little too much to drink last night while I lamented my problems with my father. Then I feel someone shifting beside me, and I look over to see a man in the same bed as me.

  I almost panic. Then memory returns. This is Lyle. Last night, he had seemed perfect as we danced together and then rushed to a hotel, needing to touch each other even more. Our clothes are strewn around the room and Lyle is rubbing his head with a frown, looking about as wrecked as I feel.

  “Ow,” he groans. He squints at me. “How do you feel, Amanda?”

  He remembers my name too, which is good. I give him a half smile.

  “Like someone kicked me in the head,” I reply. I glance at my phone with a frown. “Why is my alarm going… Shit!”

  Lyle starts as I leap out of bed.

  “What’s wrong?” he asks, concerned.

  “I’m going to be late for work!” I exclaim. “And my father – also my boss – wanted to speak to me this morning! I’ve still got to get home and get changed!”

  “Want a ride?” Lyle asks, sitting up.

  “No, it’s fine,” I say instantly, shaking my head; I’m already dressed and I can’t wait for him to get ready too. I’m already dialing the number for a cab. They pick up at the third ring. “Hello? I need to order a taxi.”

  I give them the name for the hotel, a little proud that I actually remember, and hang up. I grab my bag.

  I’m about to rush out the door when I glance at Lyle. He’s still sitting there, watching me. Last night was absolutely amazing. I don’t regret a single moment, despite the two of us being strangers. I hesitate and then rush toward him.

  “Give me your phone,” I demand.

  Bemused, he unlocks his phone and hands it over. Quickly, tilting the screen so that he can see what I’m doing, I put my number into his phone.

  “Call or text me later!” I say.

  Then I’m gone, leaving him staring after me. I would love to stay and talk about it, but I still need to go home and get changed into something a little more reasonable for work. Thankfully, I’m not very far from my apartment, and the taxi arrives quickly.

  As soon as I enter my apartment, I grab a shirt and skirt from my cupboard. I glance at my watch, twitchy and impatient. Is there enough time for a shower? There’s going to have to be; I stink of alcohol. My father will notice straight away.

  “Shit,” I huff, stripping quickly and hopping in the shower.

  I rub soap over myself as fast as possible, and grab my brush even as I towel myself down, tugging at the knots. I’m trying to do several things at once, hopping around the bathroom to get dry and then rushing into my bedroom with my toothbrush in my mouth, very aware of the time. I should have set my alarm for much earlier.

  To my surprise, though, I manage to make it out the door with five minutes to spare, grabbing my keys and still applying some white make-up as I rush down to the garage. My car is exactly where I left it last night, and I throw my lipstick onto the passenger seat as I hop behind the wheel.

  Then I take a breath. It’s okay, I’m going to make it, and my father is not going to have any idea that I was almost late. I run my hand through my still-damp hair and then leave the garage.

  I make it just before nine. I rush past the receptionist, who smiles and waves as I go past, and head directly to the top floor. While I’m in the elevator, I tug my shirt and skirt back into place and use the mirrored wall to pat my hair down so it looks a little neater. By the time the doors open, I’m as ready as I’ll ever be, and I stride forward with my chin up and shoulders back, no signs of the night before on me at all.

  “Good morning, Amanda,” my father greets as I approach. He’s not smiling, and I gather he’s unhappy that I wasn’t available last night. “Did you have a good night?”

  I remember dancing with Lyle at the club and then moving with him in the hotel room, hot and heavy and intimate. I smile.

  “A very good night,” I say.

  “Good, good…” My father folds his hands on the desk and leans forward. Behind the massive desk, his steel hair perfectly straight and his suit impeccable, he looks forbidding and imperious. I straighten a little more. My father has never been the warmest man in the world, but he’s always seemed so much colder behind that desk. “I had a think about your request last night, and I have decided to grant you a chance.”

  I nod slowly, though inside I’m jumping up and down. This is what I’ve been waiting for.

  “What sort of a chance?” I ask, trying to keep my voice as even as possible.

  “Currently, Energy Plus Co. is looking to form a strategic alliance with us,” my father says. His voice makes it clear how unimpressed he is by this idea. “They would like to reach into the cell phone sector, and believe we will both benefit from allying ourselves in this venture.”

  Personally, I think this is a great idea. But I know how my father feels about our far more successful rival company, especially since the young son took over upon his father’s untimely death. So I don’t say anything, simply nod, waiting.

  “I would like to send you as a representative to hash out a deal,” my father continues. “You will be solely responsible for deciding whether this deal is worth it or not. If they do not meet our demands, or if their demands are too much, you will have full license to pull out of the deal at any point. You are also allowed to make the decision on whether to take the deal.” He looks at me severely. “In other words, the success or failure of this venture is entirely down to your decision.”

  It’s a huge responsibility, and I know immediately what two things my father is hoping for. First, the deal will fall through and we won’t have to connect with the company, though this will inevitably show me as irresponsible when Energy Plus Co. gains even further success. Or, second, I’ll take the deal and we’ll fail due to being unable to collaborate because of my father’s stubbornness. Again, that will be on me.

  It’s a lose-lose situation. He’s done this to me because he wants to see how I’ll handle it. I smile grimly. My father and I may not always get along, but I’m very much his daughter. I never take second best, and I will not accept failure.