 
The Billionaire's Dark Desires Book 1

An Erotic Romance

By

Laila Cole

Mailing List: http://eepurl.com/bqLWpf

MsLailaCole@gmail.com

Copyright 2016 by Laila Cole

All Rights Reserved

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses or establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11
Chapter 1

"I've been seeing someone else."

Yes, those were the words Jeff Ames used when he dumped me. They were tired and cliché and they came out of his mouth as smooth as silk. They weren't the words I expected to hear from the man I thought I was going to marry but they were repeating in my mind just like the day he said them, and had been for two weeks.

Six years down the flippin' drain. Way to go, Amanda.

Heather Sinclair, my best friend since grade school, slid a dirty martini toward me over the polished metal bar inside Swank, a new, "hip" bar in Downtown Los Angeles. She was a black-haired, blue-eyed beauty with a 2 waist who stood in stark contrast to me with a waist size of 12, but I loved her anyways, even if we couldn't share clothes. In fact I had no idea where I would be without her. It was Heather that rented me the spare room in her apartment for free when I rushed out of Jeff's condominium. What a gal.

I circled my middle finger around the rim of the martini glass. "Thanks, Heather. You're a true companion."

She smiled. "Don't be snarky. Drink it. I've never seen a girl more in need of that sweet, sweet elixir."

I faked a smile. "I'm fine though, really."

Her eyebrows scrunched up in disbelief. "Your boyfriend of six years broke up with you not two weeks ago. You're not ok and that's ok."

"No, really. I'm fine."

Heather became demanding. "I am right. And you know it. Now drink."

I took a sip of my martini, which as quite good. "Thanks for taking me out tonight, but I think I'm going to go home when I finish this. Honestly, I'm tired, and it's Sunday, and I'm not sure I should be out right now."

Heather laughed. "Sorry, wrong answer. Try again!"

Heather always could make me laugh, even when I was in pain. "Let me guess... you want me to get stupid drunk and fuck some random guy?"

She giggled. "Well, I'm sure it wouldn't hurt you. And it's got to be better than sitting home alone wallowing in your own self-pity with a box of wine. I know which one I would choose."

Well, first of all it would have been a bottle of vodka, not a box of wine. Semantics. After all, maybe the skinny little bitch had a point. I took another gulp from my martini and stared longingly at the skewered olives standing upright in their bath of vodka and pondered how in the hell my life had come to this.

Jessie nudged me with her elbow. "Don't look now but there's a hot guy headed in your direction. In three, two..."

"Good for him." I knocked back the rest of my martini and looked up to find a man in a grey suit with a white shirt and a shiny grey tie, perfectly slicked back black hair, and blue eyes. He'd posted up between Heather and I but ignored Heather and extended his hand toward me. "Hi, I'm James."

I smiled and left him hanging. "I'm Amanda. And I'm not your type."

Heather interjected. "Don't listen to her. She's tired."

James turned to Heather. "And who are you?"

Heather blushed, as usual. "I'm Heather." She reached out and shook his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"No, no, no, the pleasure's mine. Would you like to dance?"

I wanted to gag.

Heather was beaming red and I didn't understand why. Men had been throwing themselves at her since she first sprouted tits. And at 32 years old I guess she still wasn't used to the attention. She looked at me for approval with eager eyes and then looked back at him. "Lead the way."

I was hands-down the best damn wing-woman in Los Angeles. Go me.

Heather could have James, what I wanted was another martini. I flagged down the bartender who approached me while cleaning a glass. "What can I get you, Mam?"

My eyes burst open. "Mam? I'm not a Mam, am I?"

The bartender laughed. "I'm not sure what to say. Did you want a drink?"

"Another martini. Dirtier than the last with three olives, please."

"Coming right up." He rushed to fill my glass and slid the martini toward me. "Would that be cash or credit?"

"Cash." I slid him a ten spot. "Keep the change."

"Thank you, uh..."

"Amanda," I said.

"Yea, thank you, Amanda. Have a great night."

I took a sip from my martini and looked up. I never should have looked up. My eyes caught those of a man in a blue twill suit and white shirt, which was unbuttoned two down from the collar. My god was he handsome. So handsome that I reasoned he couldn't have been staring at me so I smiled at him. Imagine my surprise when he smiled right back.

I sat there frozen and immediately looked down at my drink. My heart was racing. That kind of eye contact should have come with a warning. By the time I looked up once more he was already gone.

"So how many olives do you have in that thing, anyway?"

Startled I turned around. Mr. Blue Twill Suit had snuck up on me. Dangerous, this one. "Surely you can count to three?"

He smiled, reached over, and grabbed the skewer of olives, biting one off. "Delicious, aren't they?"

Sweat began oozing from my skin as my mind filled with the unmentionable. "Do you like the plump ones or the small, hard ones?"

He laughed revealing his white, perfectly aligned teeth. "That all depends."

"On?"

"How sweet they are, for one. If there's too much vinegar... I don't know it just kills it for me. You know?"

"Sure. If you say so." I think I knew what he was talking about. And it wasn't olives.

"Good." He held his hand out toward mine. "Dance with me."

"Are you asking me or are you telling me?"

He smiled. "I'm waiting."

With a deep breath I downed my second martini and turned toward him. He took my hand like a perfect gentleman but stopped abruptly and pulled out his cellphone, which was ringing. "Shit, I have to take this call. Wait for me? I'll be right back."

He answered his phone and snuck off to the smoker's patio. I waited for him just like he'd asked me to. Ten minutes later the clock struck 11:00 PM, and by 11:30 PM I was no longer waiting. I'd given up all hope of seeing Mr. Blue Twill Suit again, reasoning that he'd probably ditched me for some floozy he met on the patio. So sad that I hadn't even got his name or number.

Unfortunately for me the damage had already been done. My mind was quick to imagine him on top of me fucking my brains out, and that image, as impolite as it may be, was damn near impossible to erase from my mind.

Disappointed and ready to go home I walked around the club and looked for Heather, but she was nowhere to be found. I turned toward the exit when my phone buzzed with a text message. "James and I are heading to our place. Don't stay out too late!"

Great. I'd have to hear them fucking all night, just like the weekend before, I think the guy's name was Danny. Heather was great and all but she was a total slut. I'd lost count of the men she'd slept with in the last two weeks. It was a good thing I bought some hi-tech earplugs to cut the noise, though they wouldn't stop the wall from shaking I'd need an engineer for that.

I walked outside and flagged down a taxi on Western and Colfax. As the cab approached the curb two skinny sluts in sheer white dresses cab jacked me and slipped into the back giggling like little bitches do. "You fucking bitch!"

They all turned around and looked at me with repulsion as the cap sped off down the road.

All I could do was shake my head in disgust. Self-entitlement certainly was not lacking in Los Angeles, no surprise there.

There wasn't another cab in sight. Uber had gone to surge pricing and I had absolutely no desire to deal with that. I walked home, figuring that by the time I covered the two miles from the club to our apartment James and Heather would have already banged their yah-yahs out.
Chapter 2

The entire walk home I kept thinking about Mr. Blue Twill Suit, and that was preferable to thinking about Jeff, Mr. Great Big Asshole. It's too bad I left the bar without his name or number. Soon his face would fade from my memory and be lost to me forever.

Our apartment was on the third floor and when I arrived home I took the stairs instead of the elevator. As I opened the door from the stairway to our floor the sound of someone getting fucked was echoing down the hallway. By the time I reached our unit I realized the front door was ajar and it was Heather getting nailed to the mattress by James. She was savoring every second of it and letting the entire building know it. I loved that girl, but sometimes...

My hands shook as I pushed the door open. I didn't want to go in. I wanted to go home. This didn't feel like home, at least not yet. Slipping through the door I locked it, walked quietly to my room and closed my door behind me.

As I listened to Heather's headboard slam against the wall I let out a deep sigh and collapsed on my bed. Heather was moaning out hot and heavy like a cat in heat. It was hard for me not to be a little jealous. I hadn't been fucked in months. That should have been the first sign my relationship with Jeff was over. I missed it, just like I missed every other sign while I waited for him to pop the question, silly girls and their dreams.

I rolled on to my back and something came over me. Mr. Blue Twill Suit had infected my mind. Looking toward the door I imagined him walking into my room and placing his jacket on the back of my desk chair. He looked at me with those steely blue eyes of his and undid the last five buttons of his shirt. He tossed his shirt to the floor revealing a carved chest, which really got my juices flowing.

He stood in front of my bed and dropped his pants revealing a thick, hard bulge in his underwear. Those came off next revealing his manhood, which did not disappoint. He crawled over the bed toward me and spread my legs, and then twirled his finger over my clit. He was devious.

Soon I found myself opening up my nightstand and pulling out Mr. Purple, my rubber dildo in the shape of a thick, hard cock. With my pussy wet I slipped out of my pants and panties and slipped Mr. Purple in my pussy. First it was just the tip, nice and easy. Just like I imagined he would take me, with class.

Our lips touched and he sunk himself inside of me. He was so deep that his balls tickled my asshole. It was nice and slow at first, but the intensity soon increased until he was pounding me.

I'd never let myself get so carried away by a fantasy, but there I was matching every thrust of the Heather's headboard against the wall with Mr. Purple. I needed more. I needed the real thing.

Soon my legs were quaking and my body was tense as I inched closer to orgasm. I was so lost in the fantasy that it became real, right up until the point I came and left a wet mess all over my sheets.

Heather's headboard was still rocking but Mr. Blue Twill Suit was nowhere to be found. As I pulled Mr. Purple from my hole the only thing now filling me was an aching loneliness that I was determined to change. I deserved happiness just like anyone else and I was going to get it no matter the cost.

A banging on our front door startled me and set my heart to racing. I slipped on my panties and sweat pants and walked to the door, hoping it was the man from the bar. Yea... right.

I swung the door open. Jeff stood in front of me with a crooked smile. All my hopes, dreams, and fantasies collapsed on themselves in an instant. I was at a loss for words. "What could you possibly want?"

"You know what I want." Jeff looked at me with the look he liked to use when he wanted to fuck.

"You're drunk. Aren't you?"

He looked to the side and shrugged his shoulders. "No. Not really. I had like two beers, that's it. I swear. Let me in and let's get this party started."

In his language two meant ten and he certainly smelled like it. "I think you should go home."

He pushed himself inside. I inched back to keep the distance between us as the front door closed behind him. "Come on, baby. I miss you."

"No, you miss fucking me. That's different."

His face started to get red. "Whatever. Come on, let's go in your room and talk things out a bit, that's all I want. I swear."

I sighed. "You and I are way passed the time to talk. Agreed?"

"Not agreed. Please, baby, I'm begging you." He even placed his hands together like he was praying, though I felt no sympathy at all.

"Where's your whore? Did she already dump you?"

His face tensed. "We broke up last night."

Seeing him like this made me lose all respect for him, not that I had much left to begin with. "I'm sorry but I'm closed for business and you need to leave."

"What? No. Why?" He was getting desperate.

"Think about it, asshole. You are fucking dense."

"You've still got that snarky lip I like. Come on, Amanda, just because we broke up doesn't mean we can't still, you know... hang out."

I was confused. I thought that was exactly what breaking up meant. "You're just not getting it because you're drunk. Leave right now or I'll scream."

He shook his head in disgust. "Jesus Christ, Amanda, you act like I'm going to rape you or something."

"You've got that look in your eyes like you get when you're angry. And I don't like it, not when it's directed at me. Leave. Final warning."

"Ok. Fine. When can I see you again?"

"I don't know."

Jeff sighed as he went for the door and mumbled under his breath loud enough for me to hear it. "Guess I won't be getting any ass tonight."

I started to cry. That's all I was to him now... a booty call. Maybe that's all I ever was.

Heather walked up behind me and put her arm around my shoulders as the front door slammed shut. "Damn, you deserve better than that asshole."

I turned around with tears in my eyes. "How much of that did you hear?"

"Enough to know you made the right decision in moving here."

James sauntered out of their room with a towel around his waist. Beads of water dripped off his chiseled chest. I couldn't blame Heather for screaming like she had; I would have to if he were on top of me. "Amanda, right?"

I smiled. "That's me."

"I've got the perfect guy for you. He's single, he's a war hero, and he's an all around good guy. What are you doing tomorrow night?"

"I-I don't know. Nothing. Why?"

"My boss is throwing a house party tomorrow night up in Westlake Village. Everyone who's everyone who's is going to be there. You should come."

Heather was excited. "Yes! Yes she should. No ifs, ands, or buts."

"But—"

Heather stopped me in my tracks. "You're going. End of story."

Chapter 3

Heather stroked her eyelashes with black mascara as she looked in the mirror. "I can't wait to see James tonight. God damn that boy can fuck."

I pulled a pitch-black dress over my head and fluffed my auburn hair around my shoulders. "I know. Trust me."

Heather giggled. "I'm sorry about that. I didn't mean to be so loud but sometimes I can't help it, and that goes doubly so with him. His cock is like... everything my dildo dreams it could be."

I busted up laughing. "Dildos don't have dreams. And don't worry about the noise I bought earplugs as soon as I moved in. So who's this friend James wants to set me up with anyways?"

"I'm not really sure. He only mentioned it that night, though I did spy on his Facebook already. Is that bad?"

I grimaced. "Yea, that's bad... but what did you find?"

"Curious, are we?"

"Just a bit."

"Good. You should be. I would be. What I can tell you is this: most of his friends are hot. Most but not all."

Heather's phone buzzed with a text and she pulled it out of her Coach bag with a smile. "That's the Uber, he's downstairs. Are you ready?"

I smiled, looking at my teeth in the mirror. "Yea, I think so. Do I look ready?"

"Please, girl. You look hot."

I blushed. "Thanks, Heather. You too."

We hurried down the stairs to find the Uber driver outside waiting patiently by the curb. He smiled as we walked toward him. "So you two are headed all the way to Westlake Village tonight?"

Heather nodded. "Yes, we most certainly are."

"Big party?"

"Yep. And I don't want to miss it so let's get moving."

The Uber laughed. "No issue there."

Heather was on fire and it was only James that could put her out.

It was a forty-five minute drive north on the 101, which should have given us time to talk but Heather was too busy staring into the screen of her phone like some mesmerized zombie.

"What the hell are you smiling at?" I said.

She giggled. "Oh, you know, James's wang."

I laughed. "His what?"

"You know. His wang."

I was in a state of shock. "He's already sending you dick pics?"

She smirked. "Yea. He sends me pics of it and tells me it misses me. And to be quite honest I miss it."

"How charming." Surely Mr. Blue Twill Suit wouldn't do a thing like that. "Did he say anything about his friend?"

"Yes. Just now. His name is Logan Douglas and he's looking forward to meeting you."

My heart raced. "Quick. Look him up on Facebook."

Heather hopped in and out of applications on her iPhone and began scanning through James's Facebook friends. "Here, here he is!"

With a deep breath I looked at the phone. I wasn't that impressed. "He's cute. Yea. Maybe he looks different in person."

She tightened her face. "Uh oh."

"What?"

"You don't like him do you?"

"I do. We'll see."

"You're a tough customer, especially considering the fact that he put his life on the line in the Iraq War. That should be plenty to get your motor running."

I giggled. "Whatever." I laid my head against the car's window and sighed. Where oh where was Mr. Blue Twill Suit?

****

Twenty minutes later we arrived at Black Stallion Ranch in Westlake Village. The Uber pulled up to a black iron gate with the initials JW tack welded to it. "Sorry about that scare back there but these roads are windy and dark."

My hands were shaking. "That's why car's have lights."

Heather piled on. "Yea. She's right."

"I'm sorry, really. This is as far as I can go. It was a pleasure serving you. Please overlook the part where I almost drove you off a cliff and rate me five stars?"

I smiled at him as I exited the car. "Sure. I will." Not.

He smiled back at him. "Thank you."

The Uber sped off down the windy road he'd almost killed us on and left us stranded in the darkness. Asshole.

Heather was texting ferociously and walked toward the gate using her phone as a flashlight. I went in a different direction and walked to the edge of the road and looked out on the valley below. Now this was how other people lived. I always thought I had done well for myself making Manager at a local advertising firm. Apparently not.

The gate opened and Heather yelled at me from the driveway. "Come on, Mandy. Let's go. Chop, chop."

"Do I have to? It's beautiful."

She sighed. "Don't start this shit with me. Hurry up, girl, before the gate closes and locks you out here in the darkness. You know there are coyotes out here right? On nights like this you can hear them howling."

I walked toward the gate. "Nice try, babe."

"Got you over here though, didn't it?"

"I guess."

"James and Logan said they'd come out to meet us at the top of the driveway."

"Cool, sounds good." I was fucking nervous and my palms were sweating.

Heather and I walked up the driveway and I couldn't help but wonder just what this night had in store for me. Never in my entire life had I been to a place this luxurious. There were mansions and then there was Black Stallion Ranch.

The driveway ended in a roundabout that circled a fountain bathed in mood lighting that cycled between red, blue, and green.

Luxury cars of every make and model surrounded us, though I couldn't keep my eyes off of a yellow Ferrari and an orange Lamborghini.

Heather paced nervously near the walkway that led to the front door.

"Jesus, Heather. Chill out already."

She'd nibbled her nails down to the cuticles. "I'm just a little nervous, that's all."

"I'm the one who should be nervous, not you, you're trading dick pics with the guy for Christ's sake."

Heather laughed and the front door cracked open. Two men came walking toward us. Heather ditched me, ran toward James, and locked him up in a merciless hug. How nice of her to leave me all alone with a stranger.

Logan approached me with a smile and extended his hand.

I shook his hand, gripping it tighter than any bitch he'd ever met. "Let me guess. You're Logan."

He laughed. "Damn, are you a psychic or something?"

"Oh, you know. I do have my secrets."

"Don't we all? You'll divulge them to me by the end of the night. I'm guessing by your third martini."

I laughed. "Who's the mind reader now?"

Logan smiled. "I too have my secrets."

Logan looked nice. He was wearing flip-flops, white shorts, and a blue linen shirt but as nice as he looked he wasn't Mr. Blue Twill Suit.

What Logan lacked for in looks he made up for in personality. He was funny, charming, and he'd made a good first impression on me, which wasn't easy.

"Drinks?" I said.

"Yes! There's a martini bar in the back. Follow me to drunk!"

In the short time we'd been talking Heather had already ditched me and left into the party with James and I had no idea where she went. Normally that would have pissed me off, but I didn't mind staying with Logan, even though I'd just met him. This was very odd indeed. Score one for Logan.

We entered the main house were a subwoofer slammed out hits from Notorious B.I.G. Memories of high school parties shot at me like drive-by bullets. My-oh-my how I missed those days.

Logan reached back, smiled at me, and opened his hand. Taking my hand he squeezed it tight and led me through a crowd of beautiful people. I was the biggest girl in the party by far, though no one traded a stink eye with me.

We emerged to the kitchen were a small crowd of steely eyed men and women stood in front of a marble slab countertop. One woman leaned in and snorted a fat line of cocaine with a rolled up bill. She pinched her nose and shook her head. "Hot damn!"

What a fucking slut.

This party had it all. Hot guys, hot girls, good music, drinks, and slutty females snorting coke like candy.

Radiohead came on in the living room, where the lead song from Kid A reached an intense vocal crescendo. Logan pulled me toward him and whispered in my ear. "You're not into cocaine are you?"

My eyes widened. "Why? Are you?"

"No. I hate it. I never touch the stuff."

"Good. I've never tried it."

"Don't start. You won't want to stop if you do."

We walked passed the white mound of cocaine to the backyard where a man in a black suit and bow tie was making drinks. Logan slipped him a twenty. "One martini for the lady." He slipped him another twenty. "And a Makers for me, neat."

The barman whipped our drinks up at light speed. Logan grabbed my martini and handed it to me. I took a sip. It was much better than the ones I had at Swank.

Logan made a point to look into my eyes. I got the sense that he was one intense dude. "Do you like it?"

I looked away. The only other man to look at me that intensely was Jeff. "It's missing olives but it will do."

Logan began to try too hard. "If you want olives I can get you some. It's no trouble. Really."

"No. It's fine like this. Thank you."

We rounded a corner where a beautiful pool with smooth, rounded contours must have gone on for fifty feet. There was a spa on the side near us that was bubbling and steaming. On the other side of the pool was an infinity edge, where the water dripped off the side and gave the appearance that the entire pool blended into the horizon.

A man with a cut, fit body wearing nothing but a speedo stepped out of the spa. His body was rippled and steaming. As he stepped into the light to grab a towel I recognized him instantly. It was Mr. Blue Twill Suit. Destiny had brought us close again but would it keep us that way?

Logan looked out at the orange streetlights and home lights down in the valley. "It's beautiful up here, isn't it?"

My eyes weren't on the streetlights. They were on my mystery man. "Yes. Yes it is." Sure, the view of the valley was beautiful, but not better than the view of Mr. Blue Twill Suit with his clothes damn near all the way off and dripping wet. My fantasies hadn't done him justice at all. He was way, way hotter in real life.

There was an aching throbbing sensation in my groin that only he could stop. If only.

Logan turned to me. "Do you want to go swimming?"

"No. I'm ok." I was too fat to be comfortable in a bathing suit around regular people. And definitely not perfect people.

"Are you sure? I can get you a suit. Don't be self-conscious, it could be fun."

I snapped. "Excuse you? I didn't bring my suit. Ok?"

"That's fine. No big deal. I'm sorry I mentioned it."

My panties melted as Mr. Blue Twill Suit fixed his towel over his speedo, walked toward me, and eye fucked my body. He stopped in front of Logan and I. "I know you, right. From Swank?"

Anyone within earshot could hear my stomach turning in knots. I feigned surprise. "Yea. Yea I remember you, I think. What night?"

"It was last night. How many martinis did you end up having anyways?"

"A few too many, obviously. It's good to see you again."

He extended his hand to me and I shook it. "I'm Jordan Wright, welcome to my home."

"I'm Amanda Jacobs. You're home is... interesting."

He ignored me and looked at Logan. "Is she with you?"

Logan stammered. "No, Jordan, we just met."

Jordan nodded. "Really? You two seem... cozy."

"He's right," I said. "We just met tonight."

Jordan smiled at me and looked back at Logan with a tense stare. "How are you enjoying the party?"

"It-it's good. Really. I'm having fun."

Jordan scratched his chin. "Strange because I don't see you entertaining any clients. This is business just as much as it is pleasure. You know we need to be selling them. And I don't see you selling them."

Logan looked to the ground. "But Jordan."

"But what? Don't forget that I'm the one that signs your bonus checks. Just because you made ten million last year doesn't mean you'll scratch six-figures this year."

Logan was pissed. "I'm having my best year ever."

Jordan shrugged. "But I want more."

Logan looked away. "You're right, Jordan. I'm sorry." He then panned over to me. "We'll catch up later, yea?"

I nodded. "Of course." But not really, Logan getting emasculated by Jordan pretty much turned me off. He should have at least stood up for himself a little more, but instead he just sat there like a punching bag not the war hero I was sold.

Logan forced a smile and walked back into the party. Jordan moved closer to me, his eyes eyeing mine like a hawk. "I distinctly remember asking you to dance."

I blushed. "And I...I distinctly remember you disappearing. Don't you have clients to entertain?"

He shrugged. "That's why I have people like Logan. He's one of my salesmen. I've made him rich many times over but no matter how rich he gets he'll never have what I have."

"And what's that?"

"Power."

Jordan had power all right. He had the power to make my pussy drip without even touching it. "What is it you do?"

"I own and operate a hedge fund called Jordan Wright & Associates. We are a boutique fund specializing in highly speculative trades with just about $3 Billion in assets under management and looking to grow."

My eyes doubled in size. "What do you hedge, bushes and lawns?"

Jordan laughed. "Are you trying to be clever?"

I smiled. "Maybe, though it's an honest question."

"We invest in stocks, bonds, and other securities. About last night I do apologize for leaving you, but I had business to attend to."

"Oh really? What could be more important than dancing with me?"

Jordan laughed again. "You're a ballbuster, aren't you?"

"No, really though, I'm curious to what made you vanish without a trace."

"A billion dollar gold trade going the wrong way in the after-hours futures market, that's what. And I'd do it again."

Jordan was intense. And that intensity was turning me on. Fuck the money that was just a bonus. Jordan was the kind of man that did what he wanted, said what he wanted, and fucked who he wanted. And I just hoped he wanted me.

Jordan took my hand. "Why don't let you let me show you around?"

With my palms sweaty I smiled. "Please do."

Chapter 4

Jordan held my hand firm and led me back in his house. Men and women turned and stared at him, and by default me. My body tingled with nerves but at the same time I liked the attention. After all, there were dozens of gorgeous women in his house but he only seemed to care about me. Who wouldn't like that?

Jordan leaned into my ear and cupped his hand around it. "My room is up the stairs."

My eyes were plastered open like a deer's in oncoming headlights. "Wait, your room?"

"Yea, is there a problem? You look... confused."

"No. Sorry, I misheard you." I was confused, though, and nervous as hell.

My heart thumped hard in my chest as he led me toward a staircase in the foyer that wound up toward the second floor. His home was truly ornate with expensive paintings and decorations on the walls. Marble tile glistened in soft light all the way toward the two white doors of his bedroom. As we walked toward the room the volume of the music softened just enough to carry on a normal conversation.

He stopped short and grabbed both of my hands. "Don't think I've forgotten about the dance. I don't know about you but I'd much rather have it here than at some skanky club."

"Dance?" I was stunned that he even remembered. I was so caught up with just being here I'd totally forgotten.

His fingers interlocked with mine. "Are you going to repeat everything I say tonight?"

"No." My heart was throbbing.

Jordan placed his first two fingers on my chin and gently lifted my head until we were staring into each other's eyes. "I had a dream about you last night."

I smiled. "Keep going."

He moved toward me and placed his arms around my body. "I'm not sure you can handle it. Maybe it's best if I just let your mind run for a bit while I feel you out."

My mind was running all right, it was sprinting, just like my heart. "Feel me out? I think you should give me all the details, or at the very least the Cliff's Notes version."

"I did this in the dream." He leaned in to kiss me. "The rest is a secret."

Our lips hovered around one another's until I pulled away. "Are you sure about this? I barely know you."

Jordan bit his bottom lip. "I'm sure in everything I do. And besides, it's just a kiss." He leaned in again. "An innocent, tiny little kiss."

Our lips touched again with even more passion than before. He squeezed my body as his tongue darted into my mouth. I yearned for more but I just couldn't give him my body so easily. I wasn't a whore and I didn't want him to think I was.

As we kissed TLC's Red Light Special came on and my insides melted. This song hadn't bounced around my head for two decades.

He pulled back with a smile. "You see, Amanda. It was just a kiss."

But it was more than a kiss to me. It was a gateway into a world of pleasure. And he knew it.

"Everything starts with a kiss, doesn't it?" I said.

He nodded. "Everything."

Jordan held me tight in his arms as we swayed together like we'd danced to this song before. When it ended he walked toward his bedroom door, opened it, and turned to smile at me.

His smile was like some kind of magnet or tractor beam that controlled me and forced me in one direction and one direction only, toward him.

There was an unspoken but obvious agreement between us. Any restraints holding us back were about to be shattered. We were going to fuck, and there wasn't a damn thing that was going to intervene.

I approached his room in a state of shock. It was filled with dark wooden furniture consisting of two nightstands and a leather bed. Dark, gothic themed art hung on the wall in dark brown frames. The walls were painted brown as well, though in a contrasting shade. "It's so... dark."

He smiled.

"Where did you get all of this?"

"90% of this stuff came from the Netherlands. I've got a big client out there who hooks me up from time to time. Wait until you try the bed."

He wasn't wasting any time at all. I sat down on the bed, the mattress perfectly confirming to my flesh. It was divine. "Yep! This is the most uncomfortable bed I've ever felt."

"In that case it's going to be really awful when I join you." He turned around and closed the bedroom doors, locked them, and walked back toward me.

"It's dreadful, really! I think I'm going to run away!"

He laughed. "Go ahead and try it. Don't think I won't find you." He pulled off his towel and walked toward me. "Well, imagine that, I'm almost completely undressed. It looks like you have a ways to go."

I arched backward. "Surely you can help me?"

My heart raced with sheer panic as he sat on the bed next to me and stroked my upper arms with his fingers. He picked up the bottom of my black dress and pulled it off over my head. And just like that I was in my bra and panties. I covered up my stomach with my arms. "Can you kill the lights?"

He shrugged. "Why?"

"I'm embarrassed."

"You don't have to feel embarrassed here. Not with me. Haven't I made that clear to you already?"

I nodded. "I guess so."

"Try and relax. It's just you and I and no one else." He stroked my upper arms and shot my bodyguard in the head.

He reached around my back and unhooked my bra. My breasts tumbled into his hands and he took control of them with a smile. As I arched backward he massaged and kneaded my flesh, tugging on my nipples ever so slightly until they were as hard as marbles and sending bolts of pleasure through my body.

The pleasure was soon broken by my paranoid mind, which was certain that sometime soon his friends would jump out of the closet with a video camera and blow an air horn. This was all just... too good to be true. But there were no video cameras, or air horns, there was just pleasure, and lots of it.

We kissed again and he sucked on my bottom lip, pulling it away from my mouth before letting go. His lips inched down my chest toward my breasts, which he lavished with kisses. It was when that talented tongue of his hit my nipples that an orgasm began to build in my pussy. Jeff hadn't gone near my nipples in two years and they were long past due for a suck.

He nibbled them and looked up at me. "Now tell me again, what were you embarrassed about?"

I growled. This man was dangerous. "Don't stop, Jordan. This feels so good."

He slid my nipples into his mouth one by one and continued to torture them. "This is nothing. This is foreplay."

"But it's so damn good."

Right as I was about to cum he let my breasts go and left a glistening coat of spit on them. He looked down at my pussy. "I see your nipples aren't the only things that are wet."

He had that right. My pussy was flooded and oozing. In fact, it had started the moment he approached me at Swank and hadn't let up since.

I closed my legs and he ran his tongue along the seam between my thighs. "Open them for me."

"Are you sure?"

He grew stern. "I don't ask twice."

With my body quivering I pulled my legs apart. Pussy juice was smeared between my thighs and had pooled on his white sheets.

He smiled. "You're dripping." Reaching behind me he pulled my panties off. And there I was, nude as the day I was born in front of Mr. Blue Twill Suit. Perhaps dreams do come true after all.

With soft circles he massaged my clit, which throbbed so hard it threatened to explode.

His fingers meandered down an inch until he slipped the two middle ones in my pussy. "It's like a furnace in there."

I moaned. "Then you're doing something right."

My pussy began to tighten around his fingers as I readied to come.

"Are you going to come?"

I groaned out and gripped the sheets. "Yes, Jordan. Yes!"

He leaned in to suck my clit and apply the knockout punch to my orgasm when someone pounded on the door. "Jordan, it's Davey and I hate to bother you but we've got a situation!"

His face tensed as he pulled away from my clit. "What the fuck do you mean a situation?"

I yearned for more and reached down toward my pussy to finish myself off but the moment had passed.

Davey yelled through the door again. "Some chick here just passed out on floor, I've got no idea what she took."

Jordan looked me in the eyes. "I'm sorry, Amanda. I've got to deal with this."

I was disappointed, but I understood the urgency of the situation. "It's ok, Jordan. Do what you have to do."

He said nothing and ran into the closet throwing on blue sport pants and a white shirt, and at the snap of a finger he was out the door.

Chapter 5

This party had gotten a little too crazy for me, and I should have known that the moment I saw a giant mound of cocaine on the marble countertop. I slipped on my underwear and black dress and headed out of the room to find Heather and James, and prayed that Logan would keep his distance so it wasn't awkward.

Sirens whaled outside and were getting closer as I walked toward the stairs that led to the foyer. Below me was a crowd of people staring at Heather. She was passed out on the floor. It took me a few seconds to realize that she was the girl that had OD'd, but on what no one said. It wasn't coke because she hated it.

I panicked as I ran down the steps. "Heather baby! Heather!"

Everyone looked up at me as I ran toward Heather who was surrounded by Logan, James, and Jordan.

I muscled through three women when some skinny blonde bimbo scoffed at me. "Ugh. Party foul."

Her friend piled on. "Yea, like total buzz-kill status. This is whack, let's go."

Jordan was yelling at James. "What the hell did you give her?"

He shrugged. "Just a few bumps of some designer ecstasy man, chill out. I think she just had a bad reaction."

"You think?" Jordan said before turning to Logan. "Clean up all the cocaine and flush it all down the fucking toilet in case the cops come."

Logan was surprised. "All of it?"

"All of it god dammit! Now!"

Logan ran off and I knelt toward Heather with James and Jordan. She was breathing but she was unconscious. I was still crying and very upset. Jordan rubbed my back. "It's ok. She'll be ok."

His words were helping but they weren't bringing her back.

Red and blue flashing lights pulled up at the roundabout and someone slammed on the door. A random partygoer let the EMT's in. They walked inside with an orange stretcher and cleared us out of the way.

When they had her strapped to the stretcher they placed some smelling salts under her nose and she woke right up combative and paranoid. "Get your fucking hands off me! Leave me alone!"

The EMT's reasoned with her. "Please, Mam. You need to calm down and let us take you to the hospital for evaluation."

"No! Get the fuck off of me!"

Seeing her in that state broke my fucking heart.

The svelte blonde I'd charged passed pointed and laughed at Heather. "Trailer trash skank."

That was the last time she was going to piss me off. What a bitch. I turned to her. "You shut your fucking mouth you stupid whore!"

She pulled back. "Ugh. Bitch! Like, fuck off!"

Heather called for me as the EMT's carried her to the ambulance. "Mandy! Mandy! Get these men off of me!"

I ran towards the EMTs. "Where are you taking her?"

"Los Robles Medical Center."

"Can I come with you?"

The EMT shook his head. "No. You can meet her there."

There was nothing I could do. The EMT's stuffed her into the back of the ambulance and closed the doors. They drove off with their lights still twirling and disappeared down the canyon.

Jordan approached me from behind and hit a button on his key fob. The lights on the orange Lamborghini blinked and lit up and the pull up doors opened. "Get in."

I was shocked to say the least.

"Are you sure?"

"This is non-negotiable."

I ran toward the car and slid inside. Jordan did the same and started the engine, which screamed so loud that the vibrations made my pussy wet. "I feel bad. You have a party and clients. I'm sorry for my friend. You don't have to take me, I can get an Uber."

"Absolutely not. It's not her fault. And it's certainly not your fault. James shouldn't have given her whatever the hell he gave her, and he'll pay for that. And this party? Fuck these vampires. They're just here for the free booze."

"And cocaine," I said.

He laughed. "Right. I'm not sure where that came from to be honest. I've never seen that much at any one place before."

"Crazy. Are you sure you want to take me?"

"You bet. Put on your seatbelt because we're about to haul ass."

The seatbelt was more like a harness and I made sure I was strapped in tight.

Jordan gunned the engine and whipped around the roundabout and down the driveway, waiting only a moment for the automatic gate to open.

As soon as the gate opened he blazed across the asphalt and was soon hitting tight turns at speeds of 80-90 miles per hour without issue, the tires held the road snug and tight.

While everything on the car was stable, my insides were not, and on more than one occasion I almost threw up. "You're driving crazy. Do you always drive like this?"

"It depends." We came upon a car's red taillights. He swerved into oncoming traffic and whipped around it.

"Jesus Christ Jordan!"

Jordan was smiling. "Relax, you're fine."

We approached another car and pulled past it again, only this time barely missed an oncoming vehicle before changing lanes.

My heart was racing so fast I thought I might need a medic next. "Please stop. Please, I can't take it."

He rounded another sharp turn until we were behind the ambulance. He followed it all the way to the hospital and pulled to the visitors drop off section and popped my door open. He seemed rushed to get back. "Wish her the best for me, will you?"

I unlatched my harness and stepped out of the car. "I will. Thank you."

"And let her know that I will cover the costs for all her medical bills related to this. Ok?"

Again I stood shocked. "That is so generous of you. I'll tell her."

"It's nothing. Really."

When our conversation began to die down I was thrust into a panic. "Will I see you again?"

He smiled. "What do you think?" The door to the Lamborghini closed and he bolted out of sight.

I didn't know what to think, or do, or say. I just hoped real hard that the answer was yes.

Chapter 6

I'd been in the waiting room for over an hour when a nurse in pink scrubs walked toward me and smiled. "Amanda?"

Weary and tired I rose. "Is she ready for me?"

The nurse laughed. "Yes, she's fine, just a little shook up is all. The doctor has her on some benzodiazepines so she might be a little loopy."

Loopy? She was loopy sober. I smiled back. "That's really good news, may I see her now?"

"Absolutely. Follow me." She turned to walk toward a door that led to the emergency room. As soon as she opened it a bolt of anxiety hit me. There were curtains separating all the treatment areas, and I couldn't help but leer into one of them to find an old woman with a tube coming out of her mouth. And in another a young boy crying and holding his side. Things could have ended differently for Heather. She was lucky.

The nurse pulled back the curtains and Heather was upright and in good spirits, though she was definitely a little loopy. "Mandy!"

The nurse patted her on the back. "Keep it down sweetheart, others are sleeping."

Heather's face scrunched up like she'd done something wrong. "I'm sorry."

"It's ok. No big deal." The nurse walked off and closed the curtain behind us.

I sat beside Heather. "What the hell is a matter with you? You could have been killed. And what did you take anyways?"

She sighed though seemed very relaxed. "Some club drug James bought. We'd been planning to take it all night. The doctor said I had a bad reaction but that since it was short acting the effects didn't last long."

"Good. You know better. You scared the shit out of everyone at the party. When I first saw you I thought you were dead." I wiped a tear from my eye.

Her emotions were all over the place and she started to cry. "I'm sorry. I just thought it would be fun. I had no idea what would happen. I'm sorry I embarrassed you. I guess I embarrassed James too, that's why he hasn't called. Can you hand me my purse?"

Her black Coach bag was on a seat in the room and I handed it to her. She rifled through it, pulled out her phone, and burst into tears. "Nope. Not even a text."

That was totally fucked up all things considered. "What an asshole. You deserve better."

"You're right, like his friend Jordan. I hear he's one of the richest men on the west coast. And he's beyond hot."

My heart started to pound. Jordan was mine. And he was going to stay mine. She had no idea what had transpired between us. "How about Logan? I'll be honest with you. I wasn't that into him."

"Yea, maybe."

"Listen, Heather, I need to tell you something. It's important."

She lay back on her bed clutching her phone. "Tell me."

"I hooked up with Jordan tonight."

She was shocked. "Wait, what?"

"Yea. It was sweet, and sexy, and I just think that maybe there's something there."

She was still in shock. "Really?"

"What do you mean? Aren't you happy for me?"

"Amanda Jacobs, you are a fucking slut! You guys had sex didn't you?"

"Jesus Christ, Heather. Keep it down. There are people in here."

"No. Give me all the details. Stat!"

"Well, like I said, Logan wasn't my type."

"And Jordan is?"

I couldn't stop from smiling. "He is my type defined."

She laughed. "He's wealthy, charming, and chiseled, he's every girls type. The question is: are you his?"

I shrugged but did so with a smile. "I think so. He could just be running game on me. I don't know. It's too early to tell but I'm hopeful."

"Right. Sure."

Heather sounded bitter and the drugs were making it harder for her to hide it. God forbid an attractive, wealthy man showed me any attention. I think that's what shocked her the most, that someone like that could.

She raised her finger. "Let's see what he's up to on Facebook." She unlocked her phone, hopped into the Facebook app and began scanning through images. "Strange, he doesn't have a profile but James does. Ah, I'm sorry babe. Look." She held the screen of her phone toward me and showed me a picture of him dancing with the some random brunette. "Yea, this one looks like he's already moved on. Sorry."

Of course he had. "Put that away. I hate Facebook. That's why I don't have one. That doesn't mean anything."

"Don't feel bad, babe. It's ok. Jordan is worth like $8 billion dollars or something. He's not settling down or anyone."

I snapped. "But he'll settle down for you, right?"

Heather was quiet. "Maybe. I don't know."

My heart was crumbling into tiny little pieces. Not because Jordan was dancing with some shallow slut but because my best friend since grade school seemed ready to try and steal him from me, and that she'd tried to prove to me that we weren't compatible. That was just... fucked.

My phone buzzed with a text and my pulse quickened. Jordan was the type of guy that could get my number from anywhere. I checked my messages and hoped it was from him. "Made you look, love Heather."

I should have known it wasn't Jordan. But that prank was just plain cruel and I began to cry. "That was mean, Heather."

"Aww. I'm sorry. It was just a joke. You'll get over it just like you'll get over Jordan."

My blood boiled. "Goodbye Heather, I'll see you at home."

"Ok. I'll be home in a few hours. I think they wanted to do a few more tests on me."

That was fine by me. I was pissed and didn't want to see her. I turned around and walked away, and as far as I could tell she drifted off to sleep. If she kept this up I was going to have to find a new place to live.
Chapter 7

Yet another crazy Uber almost killed me on the way from Los Robles Hospital in Thousand Oaks to Downtown Los Angeles. Where did these people learn to drive, anyway?

I left his Toyota Corolla frightened but that fear soon turned to anger when I walked up the staircase toward Heather and I's apartment. She really pissed me off with her comments and her little text message prank. It was rude and she knew it.

At the same time that I was mad I was also scared. She was one of only two women on this planet that I trusted, the other being my mother. Without her I literally had no friends. God love my mother, but I couldn't talk to her about the same stories and topics that I could with Heather.

It could have just been the drugs that the doctors gave her, or maybe those drugs made it hard to mask her true feelings. Perhaps she'd had resentments that she'd held on to for all our lives, though really I should have been the one to carry that burden, but I didn't. When something good happened for Heather I was happy for her. But it was starting to become clear to me that those emotions weren't a two way street.

I'd dealt with hate, recrimination, and bullying my entire life, and I was not going to put up with it from Heather, regardless of our history. I'd sooner pack all my shit up and move out, free rent or not.

As I opened the door to our apartment I came face to face with just how tired I was. Strolling over to the couch I collapsed. There was no way in hell I was making it to work after the night I had.

The sun had just begun rising and rays of light broke through the window in our living room and blazed across the carpet. With my eyes heavy I began to doze off.

I was startled awake by a knock on the door.

My anxiety raced and I prayed it wasn't Jeff. His bullshit was the last thing I needed to deal with.

Peering through the peephole a man in a hat stood with a clipboard. I sighed. Door to door salesman were starting earlier and earlier these days. It was barely 7:30 AM.

Enraged I opened the door, though my rage was quickly sublimated into surprise. At his feet was a bouquet of lush red roses.

He looked at me and smiled. "Amanda Jacobs?"

"Yes. That's me."

"I've got here for you an extra-special early morning delivery."

I was flattered. "I can see that! Who's it from?"

He looked at his clipboard. "Just a second while I look... these beautiful flowers are from Jeff Ames."

My flattery turned to despair. "Really?"

He looked at me surprised. "Yes. Really. Where would you like me to put them?"

"I...I'd like them taken away from me. I don't want them."

"Whoa, Sister. That's a first. Are you sure? Don't you at least want to read the note?"

I snagged the note from his hands. "Amanda, my dearest love. I am so sorry. I love you and I miss you. I've been up all night thinking about us, and about my actions, and I wanted you to wake up to these. – Jeff."

How poetic. He'd spent all night figuring out a way to get back in my pants and I'd spent the whole night trying to forget about him. I ripped up the note. "I'm sorry if I seem rude, but I do not want flowers from this man."

He nodded. "I understand, that's ok. Since he's already paid they're yours. What would you like me to do with them?"

"Throw them in the trashcan in the lobby and push them down deep so I don't have to see them. Thank you."

He laughed. "No problem."

I hated Jeff Ames. If he thought flowers were going to fix the damage he'd done he was fucking insane. I was no dummy; it was all just a poorly thought out ploy to get laid and I saw right through it.

Stewing on my anger I walked into my room, dropped to my bed, and fell asleep.

****

I was startled awake by another loud knock on the door. Lifting up my head I looked over at my nightstand. The alarm clock spelled out 12:00PM in bright red letters. Stumbling out of bed I walked to the front door and opened it.

It was the flower guy. Again. Perhaps he didn't get the message the first time. "No flowers from Jeff Ames at this address. Thank you."

As I closed the door he held out his hand to stop it. "Wait."

"What?"

He smiled. "You're one popular lady."

I sighed. "What makes you say that?"

"Well, first off this delivery is from another 'J' in your life. And second it required my entire team to deliver it." He handed me a small, rectangular card with a note written in cursive.

"To picking up where we left off. – Jordan."

I stopped to catch my breath. "Where are the flowers?"

He laughed. "They're coming. All of them."

My heart raced and I began to sweat.

He looked my in the eyes. "Are you ok? You look... sick."

"I'm fine. I'm... delighted!"

Three men walked up to him, each of them were holding a cart filled with wonderful arrangements of flowers. "Where would you like us to put them?"

I turned around and pointed to the counter and dinner table, though I wasn't confident there would be enough space to store them all.

The men walked in and I watched with awe as our barren countertops were now bursting with the color of red roses, yellow tulips, and white carnations. The smell of them all was overwhelming.

The flower guy smiled at me. "Aren't you glad I came back?"

I laughed. "Yes! Any time!"

"Good. Well, that'll just about do her. Have a good day." The flower guy and his three men walked out of the front door just as Heather walked in.

She looked sick and pale but the sight and smell of the flowers perked her up. She scanned them looking for a card. "Are these from James? He still hasn't called."

I didn't know what to say. "Umm, no. Actually they're for me."

Her eyes widened. "Damn, Logan sure has the hots for you, huh?"

"Actually they're from Jordan. Are you feeling ok?"

"I'm fine." She stormed off into her room and closed the door.

My hands were shaking. What had I done to deserve her wrath?

I headed over to the couch and re-read Jordan's card to try and put a smile back on my face. In my surprise I hadn't realized that there was a note written on the back. "If you have plans tonight you are cancelling them. A limousine will pick you up at 7PM in front of your apartment and take you to Black Stallion Ranch. I'll be waiting..."

I burst out in excitement. "Yes!"

Heather slammed on her wall. "Keep it down I'm trying to sleep!"

I sat there in shock. After all the fucking racket she'd made me endure I wasn't even allowed to be excited. I'd dealt with double standards all the time with Jeff and I wasn't about to deal with it from my so-called best friend.

It was then that I saw right through her bullshit. She was bitter. Bitter not only that it appeared she'd been dumped again but that I'd actually found someone she valued as a potential partner. This was a first and I just didn't know if she could handle it. Some friend.

Chapter 8

I'd just turned off the shower when Heather burst into the bathroom to pee. "This whole sharing a bathroom thing... we need some rules around it."

I covered myself in a white towel from my breasts down and opened the shower door. "It's your place, you make the rules. I don't plan to inconvenience you for too long anyways."

She wiped her twat, pulled up her panties, flushed, and walked away without so much as responding.

Damn she was being a bitch. The tension between her and I was intense and I didn't have time to deal with it. It was 6:00 PM and I needed to prepare for my dinner with Jordan, which was going to be spectacular.

As I straightened my hair I wondered how this night would end, though I had my suspicions.

I rubbed my clit a bit before slipping into a pair of red panties. It was just enough to cut the tension in my body and get me ready for a good time.

I pulled a maroon satin dress off the towel rack, slipped it on, and adjusted my cleavage in the mirror so that it "popped."

Next I brushed my teeth and did my make up. I applied a luscious red lipstick from MAC as a finishing touch. I wasn't leaving anything to chance. Jordan was going to devour me, and that's just all there was too it.

I walked out of the bathroom to the kitchen where Heather was making a cup of coffee. "Did you hear from James?"

"Nope."

"I'm sorry. I'm sure he will call soon."

"Right. Where are you headed all done up?" She avoided looking at all my flowers.

I grabbed my black clutch. "To dinner with Jordan. Wish me luck?"

She said nothing. Instead she sipped her coffee, walked into her bedroom, and slammed the door shut.

My hands shook with an uncommon rage. Never before had I wanted to hit someone as bad as I wanted to hit her. If her fucked up attitude didn't reverse course soon it was going to be the end of our friendship. I had no patience for such displays of behavior especially consider the fact that I would never act in the same manner toward her.

I was about to leave our apartment when I stopped and turned around. There was no way I could leave without saying something. I opened her door without knocking and found her crying as she watched TV. "What is your problem with me?"

She looked shocked that I'd confronted her and wiped her eyes. "Who, me? I don't have a problem with you."

"Then I have one with you. You're being a fucking bitch for no reason. For Christ's sake you should be happy for me after what I've been through with Jeff. And now I've met this guy who is rich, and handsome, and seems to like me, and I get shit on by you. Shame on you!"

She sniffled and took another sip from her steaming mug of coffee. "It's got nothing to do with you!"

"Then don't take it out on me. We're friends, or at least I thought we were until today!"

She looked up at me. "I'm in a bad spot, Mandy. Leave me alone. Knock the next time you want to come in here. And quit taking so long in the shower."

I stood there dumbfounded. "Whatever, Heather. I hope you feel better. Not." I closed her door and stormed off fighting fresh tears in my eyes. I couldn't let whatever was going to happen between her and I impact what was going to happen with Jordan.

I was now running ten minutes late. As I ran down the hallway I caught my reflection in a window. A small line of black mascara had dripped down my cheek and dried. I cleared it away with my finger and continued on, promising myself I wouldn't shed another tear over Heather's bullshit.

Afraid to get too sweaty I walked down the stairs and entered the lobby looking toward the street. A man was standing in front next to a black limousine and smoking a cigarette. Our eyes connected and he smiled.

With a deep breath out I opened the glass door to the lobby.

He tossed his cig on the ground and snuffed it with his shoe. "Are you Amanda Jacobs?"

I smiled. "That's me."

"Good. I'm Jonas, your driver for the evening. Get on in and have a glass of wine on me." He opened the door and I climbed inside. I didn't expect to see Jordan, but there he was, and damn he looked good in a gray suit and slicked back hair.

"I told you I'd find you if you got away, didn't I?"

"You did. But do you like what you've found?"

He uncorked a bottle of red wine and poured me a glass. "Try this, it is from my personal collection."

He'd completely ignored what I said. Perhaps he thought I was fishing for a compliment, and maybe I was.

Bringing the glass of wine to my nose I inhaled the aromas and pretended like I had class. In reality the best wine I'd ever had was something I pulled off the shelf at Rite-Aid, and it was usually a yellow tag special.

Jordan leered at me. "Are you going to smell it or drink it?"

I smiled and took a sip. "It's really... complex. I like it."

"Good. Finish it."

"Now?"

He nodded. "Now."

I gulped it back. "Any other demands?"

His lip curled into a devilish smile. "Not yet."

This man was bossy and I liked it.

He stroked my thighs over my dress with his fingertips and I cooed. Our eyes connected and I began to breathe faster. "Do you like when I touch you?"

My head was resting against the cushion and I turned to him. "That depends."

His fingers slid under my dress and over my skin. "On?"

"Where you touch me."

His hands slipped up my thighs and spread them open. "How about here?"

My entire body vibrated. "Getting warmer."

He continued his ascent and assault on my pussy and moved my panties to the side. "How about now?"

"Hot. Burning-fucking-hot."

"It really is, isn't it?" He began to finger me, gently thrusting his middle finger in and out of my hot and eager pussy. "I hope you don't mind that I only had my chef prepare a main course this evening. I was thinking that we could handle the appetizers ourselves."

I nodded. "You're hungry, aren't you?"

"Starving." He thrust his finger deep into my pussy. "Spread your legs wider."

I did as he asked and opened my legs up. He slipped another finger in my pussy and began to bang me harder.

I started to moan. "Aren't you going to kiss me before you make me cum?"

"Who said I was going to make you cum?" He leaned in to kiss me and placed a warm, wet peck on my lips before resting his head on my shoulders. He was fingering me hard and deep and then he stopped and whispered in my ear. "Aren't you curious how big and hard it is?"

His thumb tortured my clit and brought me to the edge of an orgasm. "I figured when the time was right you would show me."

"I figured you'd have the initiative to figure it our for yourself. I like a woman with initiative."

As he fingered me I reached over to grab his cock, which was almost ripping through his trousers. "Jesus Christ Jordan!"

He smiled. "I know." He pulled his fingers from my pussy and rubbed them on my lips. "Have you ever tasted your own pussy before?"

"No."

His fingertips slid smoothly across my lips. "It tastes good, doesn't it?"

I was so turned on I sucked my slime right off of his fingers. "It's tangy and sweet."

"You're god damn right it is."

After I sucked his fingers clean I knelt in front of him, unzipped his pants, and pulled them to his ankles. With a little fighting I was able to pull his thick, hard cock out of his underwear. It stood at attention right in front of me, throbbing up and down and waiting for my mouth. "Are you sure this isn't the main course? It looks pretty filling to me."

He smiled. "And here I thought you had an appetite."

His raging hard cock was irresistible and it was soon in my mouth. I sucked it up and down, taking it as deep as I could go before my jaw would snap from the girth. It had been a long while since I sucked dick but it was like riding a bicycle, no matter where I went or how long it had been since I'd done it, I could always make a man cum.

He grabbed my hair and thrust his cock down my throat. I gagged and pulled back. Ropey spit was dripping off my lips and onto the floor of the limo. "Was that necessary?"

"I was just testing your limits."

"Then test me again." There was no way I was going to let myself fail at sucking cock. I took his dick into my mouth until my chin was at his balls.

He thrust deeply into my mouth before pulling out. "Dear god woman!"

I was stuck catching my breath and gripped the base of his glistening cock. "Are you a sicko, Jordan?"

"No, but I do have my... peculiarities."

As I stroked his cock droplets of clear pre-cum began flowing down his shaft. I licked and sucked his pre-cum flow all the way up to the tip. Again he was in my mouth throbbing and ready to explode, and I was ready to swallow every last drop.

He moaned out. "Grab my balls, baby."

I did, gently, stroking them as his cock got even harder. "Squeeze them."

I did.

"Harder."

As soon as I applied a little more pressure he exploded in my mouth and fired out so much hot cum that I couldn't contain it. Half of his load went down my throat and the other half overflowed over my lips and dripped all over his pants.

He was out of breath and I'd made a fucking mess.

He grabbed a towel from the minibar. "God dammit. I've got cum all over my suit pants. You were supposed to swallow it all."

"I tried. There was too much. It was crazy."

"That's nothing. When I cum... I cum a lot."

I smiled. "I can see that. Good thing I like the taste."

He took a deep breath, reached over to the minibar and poured himself a glass of scotch, all the while staring at me with devilish grin.

"How much further until your house?"

He looked out of the limo window. "Fifteen minutes."

I spread my legs a bit, hoping he would catch on and finish me off. As much as getting finger fucked turned me on I loved sucking cock and I was so horny I could have come at the slightest touch.

He smiled as I spread my legs. "Don't worry. I'm saving that for desert." He knocked back a glass of scotch and laughed.

Fuck dinner. I didn't want to wait for desert. I was ready to hump.
Chapter 9

My heartbeat had finally recovered to normal by the time we arrived at Black Stallion Ranch. The limo climbed up the driveway and parked in front of the fountain. Jordan stepped out of the car and lent me his hand. "Two times in one week, you're lucky."

Luck my ass. "You and I both know this ain't luck."

He stopped, pulled me close, and leaned in to kiss me. "Then what is it?"

"I'd prefer not define it. I'd prefer to enjoy it."

He squeezed me tight. "That can be arranged." We walked up his patio and into the house. It was filled with the aroma of roasting beef and vegetables. Gone were the crowds from the night before and the mound of cocaine on the kitchen counter. Thank god. I didn't date druggies no matter how flippin' rich they were.

We approached a wooden dinner table with a place setting for two where he pulled out a chair for me. "Sit, please."

As I sat he disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a bottle of booze and a smile from ear to ear. "Check it out."

"What's that?"

"It's a sixty-five year old scotch from Ireland. I bought it off some hot-shot investment banker a few years ago for twenty-thousand bucks. I've been saving it for a special event." He pulled the metal wrapping off the mouth of the bottle like a kid at Christmas and then popped out the cork. "Hand me your glass."

I did as he asked and he poured a shot's worth for me. "Thank you, I'm sure it tastes lovely." The truth was I hated scotch. I was and always had been a martini girl.

He was grinning from ear to ear. "Go on, then. Taste it."

I brought the glass to my nose and smelled it. It was intensely smoky, rich and acrid, and not something that screamed out for me to consume it. But I was going to when I'd finally mustered up the courage.

"Well? What are you waiting for? It ain't going to drink itself."

"You first."

"How about we do it together?" He poured a bit in his glass and clanked his glass against mine. "Cheers."

We drank it at the same time to different reactions. The taste blew me away, and not in a good way. "Wow! This is... crazy!" It was bitter and warm, and left me craving a martini made with twenty-dollar vodka and cheap olives.

His reaction was different. He closed his eyes and savored every last molecule of it. "Delicious. It was worth every penny." He poured himself another shot and swigged it back before sitting in the seat next to me. "Would you like another one?"

"No. It's ok. One is enough. I know how expensive it is. I don't want to waste it."

He snuck his hand around my back and used his fingertips to tickle up and down my spine. He couldn't keep his hands off of me.

"It sure smells nice in here," I said.

"Chef Charlie is a Michelin starred chef. It better smell wonderful for the salary I'm paying him. And in all actuality he's never made something I didn't like, even with ingredients that I hate."

Charlie emerged from the kitchen holding a large serving dish that had two square, white plates. On it were perfectly roasted and seared hunks of beef with an assortment of roasted vegetables."

He placed our dishes in front of us and smiled. "As your requested, Jordan."

Jordan nodded. "Thank you, Charlie, this looks wonderful. As always."

"Do you need anything else? There is extra reduction sauce on the stove top, but I don't think you'll need it."

Jordan laughed. "Me either. Please leave for the evening and wish Marla well for me."

He nodded. "Will do. Thank you."

Charlie scooted out of the dining room and left the house. My stomach was growling, and like a fat ass I unraveled my silverware from a white napkin and dove right in.

Jordan held up his hand. "Wait! We should say grace. Where are your manners?"

A morsel of best roast I'd ever tasted was squished between my molars. I stopped chewing immediately and covered my mouth. "Really?"

He started laughing. "No. Not really. Dig in and enjoy yourself."

A wave of relief slammed into me. I hadn't even though about manners, though in every joke there was a scent of the truth. I ate a bit more carefully from there on out. Every bite was tender and flavorful and certainly, by leaps and bounds, better than anything that had ever come out my kitchen.

"What do you think of Charlie's cooking?"

"It's delicious. Are you kidding?"

He laughed. "Good. I'm glad you like it."

I raced through the main course hoping that my "dessert" would soon follow, as promised in the limo. With every bite I got hornier until my pussy was wet.

Jordan surprised me by standing up and pouring me a hefty glass of scotch. "Take her down, baby. It'll loosen you up."

I smiled. "I'm already loose."

He insisted. "Just drink it. Trust me."

I knocked it back and grimaced as it slid down my throat. Then I started to worry. What in the hell did he have in store for me? "Any other commands, Master?"

He was smiling from ear to ear. "Not yet. I'm going to show you something right now and I don't want you to freak out. Ok?"

Now my heart was really pounding. "What?"

He played it down. "You'll see. It's nothing bad, I promise. You might even like it."

"I might like it? What if I don't like it?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it."

I sighed and tried to contain my fluttering heart. We walked up the winding stairs to his bedroom and stood in front of the white doors, same as the night before. He had brought the bottle of scotch and our glasses with him, and poured me another. "Drink it."

I wasn't thirsty. "You don't have to get me drunk to fuck me, you know that right?"

His face was tense and brooding. "I don't want to just fuck you."

"Then what do you want?"

"I want to dominate you." He opened the doors to his room. Two lengths of chain were hanging from a metal reinforcement in the vaulted ceiling; they weren't there the day before. The chains were connected at the end by a shiny steel manacles. This was way, way too crazy for me. I didn't just want to leave I wanted to run.

My hands shook. "I... I think I should leave."

My buzz was intensifying and he held me by my upper arms. "You're not going anywhere but in that room."

I pulled away spilling my scotch. "Don't touch me. You lied!"

He grabbed me again and calmed me down. "I know it's intimidating and you're scared but I won't hurt you, not unless you want me to."

I took a nip off my nasty scotch. "That thing looks like it hurts by default."

"But can you say that for certain knowing you've never tried?"

He had a point. It was intimidating but I didn't know for certain. I loved his bossy, confident qualities, but I just didn't know if could handle being chained to the ceiling while he did... whatever he was going to do.

"Let's say I put my wrists in that thing. What then?"

He smiled. "Then I'm going to pop your cherry."

"That happened when I was fifteen, your seventeen years late to the party."

He laughed. "Just relax and come with me. Trust that I know what I'm talking about."

He squeezed my hand and walked me toward the chains dangling ominously in his room. I didn't want to lose Jordan because I was obstinate and unwilling to try new things. "You win. I'll do it so long as I cum at the end."

He smiled and placed his ear on my chest. "Your heart is racing. That's good. It will make it all the more intense when you finally do cum. Do you trust me?"

"I barely know you."

He grabbed my right wrist. "Let's change that. I can make your dreams come true so long as you submit to me."

"My dreams can't be bought."

"Sure they can." One by one he placed my wrists in the manacles and secured each cuff with a padlock. He then walked beside me where the other end of the chains ran through a metal hoop in the floor. He pulled the chain through it and my arms jumped up until they were taught over my head. He secured the chains to the loop in the floor and stood in front of me. "Is it too tight for you?"

I nodded. "Yes."

"Too bad."

If I moved too far right left or right I would swing and lose my balance so I stayed put.

With my arms taught he walked around my body admiring me, and then turned me until I was looking at my own eyes in his mirror. "There is nothing more beautiful than this."

"Than me?"

"Than the surrender of control from one human being to another on the assumption that their trust will not be abused."

"Will it?"

He ignored me, unzipped the back of my dress, and pulled it down my legs and off of my feet. "Look at yourself. Tell whether or not you like what you see."

Staring in the mirror I saw my rolls of fat, my overstuffed bra, and plus sized panties. "Don't you think I could be thinner?"

He whispered in my ear. "Wrong answer!" He smacked my ass so hard my body jumped forward. "I'll ask you again. Do you like what you see?"

My heart was racing and my mind was torn. Him spanking me hurt at first but it was now settling into some strange throbbing pleasure. And I liked it. But I didn't want to denigrate myself just so he would do it again. "Yes. I do Jordan. I like myself."

He whispered in my ear. "So then you lied to me? Naughty girl." He spanked my ass in the exact same spot again, this time much, much harder. My ass was aching and in need of some kind of relief from the unrelenting sensation on my skin.

"Part of this bond of trust is that you won't ever tell me lies. Would you agree?"

I nodded. "Yes, Jordan, of course. But does that go both ways?"

He nodded. "It does." He placed his hand on my lower back and slid his fingers in between my skin and underwear, and pulled them to the ground. Next came my bra, which he unhooked with one hand and pulled up over my head, letting it rest on my neck.

"Look at your naked body in the mirror and tell yourself you're beautiful."

"I'm...I'm..." I just couldn't do it. I couldn't lie to myself. Heather was beautiful; those bitchy girls at his party were beautiful, at least on the outside; I was Amanda Jacobs, an overweight slob from LA. Coming face to face with my self-esteem was crushing and I began to cry when I realized I had none.

Jordan held my face and looked in my eyes. "There's no crying in here. Do you understand me?"

I sniffled a bit. "Do you have any more scotch?"

He shook his head. "Scotch like that isn't for criers. Now tell yourself you're beautiful and believe it."

"But what if I don't believe it?"

"Then you and I have a problem."

I started to cry again.

"It shouldn't be so hard. Tell yourself you're beautiful. I find self-esteem and confidence inspiring. And it was what attracted me to you in the first place. Are you going to stand here with me, in this state, and tell me it was all for show?"

Raising my head with tears in my eyes, I stared at my body in the mirror. "I love you Amanda Jacobs. You're beautiful."

Jordan smiled. "You most certainly are. Was that so hard?"

I sniffled some more. "No."

Jordan walked toward the nightstand next to his bed and pulled out a small wooden paddle and then returned to me. "I'm going to ask you a series of questions. Lie to me and you'll be punished. Tell me the truth and at the end you'll be rewarded."

"Ok."

He walked behind me and stared at my ass completely transfixed by it. He looked up to me and our eyes were locked to each other's in the reflection of the mirror. "First question: are you scared of me?"

"No."

My shivering body was proof of the lie. He smacked my ass so hard with the paddle pain streaked down my legs and up my back.

"Tell me the truth. Are you afraid of me?"

"Maybe a little." Pain was still throbbing in my ass and I couldn't take another spanking.

He smiled. "Very good. You're learning."

"Second question: are you interested in me for my money?"

I was shocked. "No. Of course not!"

His eyes were still fixed on mine. "I believe you."

"Third question: did you like the scotch?"

I nodded. "Yes, very much so."

"You disappoint me." He spanked my ass again with the paddle so hard my body flailed. The chains were the only things holding me from the ground. "No, Jordan. You know I'm a martini girl."

He laughed. "One more question: do you like it when I spank you?"

I moaned out as he sunk two fingers into my wet pussy. "What do you think?"

"I think you fucking love it." He finger fucked me from behind and kissed my neck.

He was right. I did.

He sunk his fingers deeper into my pussy. "Do you want to see how red your ass is?"

I moaned out. "Yes."

He began to rub my asshole with his thumb as he thrust his fingers into me. "Where are your manners, Miss. Jacobs?"

"Yes, please."

He turned me to the side so that I could see myself in the mirror. My ass was apple red and little spots of blood emerged from my skin like pin pricks. "I told you I was going to pop your cherry, didn't I?"

"You did. And you did."

Watching his hands thrusting into me in the mirror made me skin crawl with pleasure. I wasn't sure how much longer I could hold off before I exploded.

Pussy juice was dripping down my legs as he removed his fingers. I was completely unprepared for what came next.

My eyes were locked on the mirror as he stood behind me and spread my ass. "Will you deny me any of your holes?"

I started to shake. "No."

"Good."

He began to kiss my back, starting at the top of my spine and tracing down its length. He was just above the crest of my ass when his hands reached in front of me and pulled my ass on to his face.

He nibbled my ass cheeks before spreading them and diving in. I squealed. No man had ever licked my asshole before. And it felt so damn good.

With hard strokes he tortured my asshole and then shoved his tongue in and out of it. He was breathing hard and that breath tickled the tiny hairs on my ass.

"You're a dirty girl, aren't you?"

"When I want to be."

He sunk two fingers in my pussy and banged me from behind as he licked my asshole again. He was ravenous.

I'd never known that anal pleasure could be so... divine. And I was craving penetration by something thicker. "Jordan are we going to do anal? I've never done it before but I think I want to."

"No. Not tonight. We'll work up to that. Your asshole is way too tight."

"Then loosen it. Put a finger in there or something."

"You don't give me orders. That's my job. And if I want to fuck you up the ass I will. I don't."

"Ok." I vibrated as he continued fingering me.

He pulled his fingers away from my pussy and I oozed out on his carpet.

Jordan disrobed until he was fully nude and his cock was throbbing in front of me. This was the moment I was waiting for, chained up like a slave or not.

He approached me with a grin and stroked his hard cock. "Are you ready for me?"

I smiled. "Since last time."

He lifted me up by the backs of my thighs and slid my tight hole onto his hard shaft. Gravity pulled me down until I was stuffed to the brim with man.

Only a very strong man could hold me, and his rippled arms and chest contracted as he held me into position. I did my best to use the chains to hold up some of my own heft. We were fucking. And it was amazing.

He thrust upward and my pussy contracted every time, refusing to let him slide in and out. I whipped my hair back until my neck was elongated.

"Cum for me. I want to feel your pussy when it unleashes."

It didn't take much. One more deep thrust and I lost it. "Oh my god!" My body and gyrated back and forth on his cock as I came. Fluid poured out of me and dripped down my legs. It was soon replaced with his cum, which unleashed in numerous hot and powerful spurts.

"Whoa," he said, pulling out of me. Cum dripped down my legs and he stood there and watched it.

He was mesmerized. His cock hardened again and he began to stroke it. "Oh, yea, baby. Push it out for me. I want to see it all, I know there's more."

I'd never seen a man able to orgasm again so quickly. But he was right there and ready. I pushed his cum out of me and let gravity do the rest as it pulled it to the earth by way of my legs.

Jordan walked up toward me as he jacked off and shot another load on my stomach with a loud, intense groan.

He was spent and sat down on the bed for a moment to catch his breath. With a deep sigh he looked up at me and smiled. "You're messy."

"And you made me that way. Are you going to let me out of your cuffs of doom so I can clean up?"

"Absolutely... not."

I could hardly stand anymore and my legs were still trembling from the orgasm. "Pretty please?"

"Did you like it?"

"I was pretty sure my pussy answered that one loud and clear."

He smirked and dug into his nightstand pulling out a set of keys that he used to uncuff me. I walked to the bed and sat down tired and ready to sleep. Snuggling up next to Jordan was my dessert.

Jordan's cell phone rang from his pants that were on the floor. He rifled through his pockets and answered it. "This better be good, James."

He paused for a second and then burst into rage. Every muscle in his body was tense. "No fucking way! I don't give a flying fuck what the spot price of Brent crude oil is in Europe, we are not-fucking-selling. It's going to tank when we get the supply reports due early the week after next and our short position is going to be profitable. You can tell those bastards to eat their fucking margin call! Do you hear me? They can eat it!"

He paused for a moment to listen to James speak and began to calm down. "Use the cash fund to make the margin call, but don't sell any more of our positions."

He growled. "What do you mean there's not enough cash?"

Jordan paced around the bedroom listening to James nude as the day he was born. "Jesus-fucking-Christ. This is why I am hounding you, Logan, and everyone else to bring in new money. Fuck! If that's the case then we need to rebalance immediately or risk insolvency. I won't have that no matter the remoteness of the risk. For the time being pledge the physical gold to pay for the margin call. We'll take a tax loss on that. Meet me at the office in thirty, we need to review some things."

Jordan listened intensely. "I don't care who your with. I don't care who you're fucking. Meet me at the office in thirty or you wont have a fucking job."

He hung up the phone and sighed. "I'm sorry you had to hear that. Money never sleeps in the global economy, and I've got to leave. Europe is blowing up on me. It's always something."

I tried my best to hide my aching disappointment, and I wasn't so sure I succeeded. "Really?"

"Really. My driver will take you home." Jordan picked up his house phone and made a call. "Hi, can you please take Miss. Jacobs home? She'll be waiting outside by the fountain in ten minutes."

"Just like that you're leaving?"

He looked me square in the eyes. "Yep."

As he rushed to get dressed I did the same. This caused me more panic than being chained to his ceiling. "Do you have a pen, I can leave you my number."

He laughed as he squeaked into his leather shoes. "Not on me. Don't worry about me. I'll find you. I don't text and I don't call, and that's just the way it is."

"Sure. Yea, that's... fine."

He took my hand and led me out of his room, down his winding stairs, and to the front where his driver Jonas waited for me smoking a cigarette. This was not how I envisioned this night ending, not even close. My heart was breaking with every step toward the limo, and then shattered when he rushed me inside of it without so much as a kiss or a goodbye. He simply pulled up his cell phone, ran toward his Lamborghini, and bolted out of sight with my self-confidence riding shotgun.

I cried the entire way back to Los Angeles.

Chapter 10

I took a deep breath and opened the door to my apartment, hoping that Heather wasn't there. Of course she was on the couch with a half-gallon of chocolate ice cream in her lap sucking on an oversized spoon. She looked at her phone. "Wow, you're back early."

Not two steps in the door she'd already started in on me. I ignored her.

"Uh, oh, you're silent. I know what that means. What happened with Jordan? You can tell me. You can trust me. You know that right?"

I put on a smile to hide my worry. "Everything was splendid. He was a real gentleman the entire night." I grabbed a glass from the cupboard and poured myself a glass of tap water.

"Come on, Mandy. You know I need details. Quit being so vague and give 'em up."

I sighed and sat next to the dinner table. My flowers were gone. "Hey, where did all of my flowers go?"

"Oh yea, about those. It got hot in here and most of them wilted and died so I took them out to the dumpster."

"What? Without even asking me?" My eyes were twitching and ready to burst, but I wouldn't let them. Not with my worst enemy standing in front of me.

"Well... it is my house, Mandy, they were rotting and smelling. I had to do something." She dug another scoop of ice cream from the carton. "I would have thought you'd have stayed the night if your date went so good."

I sighed. "Honestly it's not any of your business. At least not anymore."

Heather was smiling but that smile was just as phony as her friendship. "I'm trying here, Mandy. I'm trying to make this work."

"Oh, really? How about you start by apologizing for this afternoon and follow that up with an apology for throwing my flowers out. You and I both know they weren't wilted. They were brand new and perfect."

"They were wilted. How dare you accuse me of that?"

"Whatever, Heather."

"No whatever. I'm sorry for this afternoon. And for your flowers too, I should have let you make that decision. Do you forgive me yet? Can we move on now?"

"Yes, I forgive you. We can move on." The truth of the matter was that I didn't forgive her, or believe her shitty, half-assed apology. In fact I was starting to hate her, and I didn't hate anyone, even when considering all the people that bullied me from pre-school to my college graduation.

She smiled back. "Good. I'm glad that's over. Now you can tell me about your date."

"We had dinner, we hung out. You know... it was a good night."

"Come on and get to the good stuff already. How big was his cock? You fucked him right?"

"Please stop! I'm not going to talk about those things right now. It's an invasion of his privacy."

"Wow, Mandy, really? We talk about everything, right?"

"We don't talk about this. Not this time." I stormed off to my room and shut the door vowing to find a new place to live. And fast.

Heather knocked on my door and barged in just as I sat on my bed. "I just still feel like there's this... this tension between us and I think we should talk."

"Then talk." I finished my glass of water and placed it on the nightstand.

"I've been doing some thinking about things. And... well...I don't think you should live here anymore. We're better friends than roommates. Don't you agree?"

"Wow, Heather. Wow! I've done nothing to you, nothing at all, but I do agree, especially seeing how you've been treating me this last week when you're jealous! And honestly, I don't even know if I even consider you a friend anymore. I think you've been using me to feel better about yourself since elementary school."

"That's not true!" Heather was turning beet red, a dead give away that I was right.

"Don't bullshit me. I know you. And now after all these years I know what you are. You're an attention vampire, a jealous, miserable ogre, and a fucking whore to boot! If I have to listen to you get nailed again by some random guy you just met I think I will puke. How's that for the truth?"

Heather was nodding, her hands shaking. "Oh, yea? I fucked Jeff this evening after you left. Would you call him a random?"

My head started to spin. "Wait, what did you just say?"

"You heard me. Jeff came by earlier drunk as fuck pining after you at the door and I fucked him. By the way, you never told me he had such a big dick. I guess you've been keeping secrets from me all along."

I just couldn't believe my ears. My hands shook and my body tingled. I was going to smack her. I should have smacked her, but I didn't. "You're perfect for each other. You can have each other. Fuck you. I will be leaving first thing in the morning."

Heather smiled. "Good. And just so you know, I'm going after Jordan. So if you think for one second that you're all that, you're not."

I laughed. "You're not his type."

"I'm every man's type."

She walked back into the living room and my vision turned red. "You bitch!" I slammed the door and locked it.

When I left Jeff, I left with almost nothing. Every box that I'd unpacked I broke down and slid under my bed to make it easy to move when the time came, I just didn't expect it to come so soon. And I never for one second expected my best friend in the world to turn on me over a man, and to do so viciously.

I didn't sleep at all that night, not even wink. I was too busy packing all my shit. It was the only thing that kept my sanity in balance. I didn't know where I was going and I didn't care. As long as it was away from Heather I'd do just fine, whether I ended up with Jordan or not.

Chapter 11

I sat in my office having a full-blown nervous breakdown. My back ached from the Motel 6 I'd been staying at for the last two weeks and I just couldn't begin to remove my face from the palms of my hands.

My life was a friendless, loveless mess. Jordan had kept his distance since the night he'd chained me to the ceiling. And every hour or so pleasurable flashbacks filled my mind like bolts of lightning.

If that was all the time I had with him I could accept it, but God only knows where he was and what he was up to. And Heather, fuck Heather.

Someone knocked on the glass of my office, which was just enough impetus to make me pull my head from my hands. Jenny Cinque stood at the glass with a smile. She was a curvaceous brunette that worked for me, a referral from Heather. I waived her in.

She opened the door and sat down on one of two leather chairs in front of my desk. "I'm here for our ten o'clock one on one. I can come back another time if you'd like."

I pulled out my compact and stared in the circular mirror. My eyes were swollen, red, and bloodshot, just like I'd been smoking pot in the girl's room. "It's ok. I forgot about the time. What do you have for me today?"

She slid a manila folder across the desk toward me and I opened it. "This is my new creative for the local insurance company selling 'big' savings to their clients. What do you think?"

When I opened the folder there was a woman with giant tits, and big block lettering on the top that said: "Savings as big as these!"

My head snapped up.

Jenny was smiling. "What do you think? Sex sells right?"

"This isn't sex. I don't know what this is. Jenny, you're fired. This is not only immature it's offensive. Please pack up your things. I will have security escort you out."

"Mandy, you've got this wrong. They specifically said edgy."

"Right. They wanted edgy not trashy."

"Come on, Mandy. I love it here and I like working for you. Give me another chance. I swear I can do better."

I sighed. Jenny was a good girl and she was a talented artist. I hated the idea of losing her to the competition but she needed to learn a lesson in what was and was not acceptable.

She wiped the tears from her eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Ok. You can stay. Just don't do something like this again or the next time I won't be as forgiving."

The relief I offered her was priceless. "Thank you. Thank you so much. I can do better, I will do better!"

"Good. Now go make me some creative I can use, please."

My phone began buzzing. A random number was texting me. "Check the financial news ASAP." I hated random texts with a passion.

I checked Bloomberg News on my computer browser just in case and was blown away. The first headline was one I didn't expect. "West Coast Hedge Fund Sees Billion Dollar Loss On Oil Trade Gone Wrong!"

I couldn't look away.

There was a video link halfway down the article featuring Jordan in front of the London Stock Exchange where a bubbly blonde reporter peppered him with questions. "How do you feel now that you've lost over a billion quid on this wild and crazy gamble?"

Jordan smiled and melted my panties right through the computer screen. "Wild and crazy? Really?"

"Well some would certainly call it that. Who shorts oil in a bull market at 100 to 1 leverage?"

"I do. That's who. The recent run up in oil prices does nothing to weaken my resolve around this trade. Oil can and will fall. It has to fall. The economics of the industry are broken. I will self-capitalize this trade if I must and in no way does this hinder the security of our fund. I have flown out to London and made this perfectly clear to our investors, and they are standing by Jordan Wright & Associates in this difficult time. Now I must be going."

The lady followed him but he walked away and ducked into a limo.

In all honesty I had no idea he was such a big deal in the world of finance. Maybe I should have paid more attention to the news.

I closed down the article but not before secretly rubbing my clit while I ogled over his face. I needed to see him just one more time, but I knew compared to what he had going I was nothing, a nobody, just some fat slob with a regular job.

Then again, I could have been wrong. He must have seen something in me or why would he waste his time?

A courier approached my office and walked in. "Are you Amanda Jacobs?"

I stood up surprised. "Yes, I am. Who are you?"

"I'm Jack Davis from Western Courier, and I've got a special delivery."

I smiled. "What makes it so special?"

"Well, I'm delivering it, duh. I need your John Hancock on the dotted line, thank you very much."

I signed for the package and he handed me a small brown box.

"Who is it from?"

"I don't know. The sender or his agents asked to remain anonymous. Have a good day."

Jack slipped out of my office and I placed the package on my desk. My hands shook as I used my thumbnail to cut through the clear packing tape to open it.

As I opened the flaps of the box a white index card caught my attention. I pulled it out. "Hello there, beautiful. I am returning to Los Angeles from London tomorrow evening for a Client Engagement and want to see you there where we will continue our...exploration. Wear all three of them and meet me at the following address at 8:00 PM Saturday night: 3256 Sparrow Lane, Westlake Village, CA. Don't be late. The password at the door is Blue Horseshoe. And don't be afraid. It won't hurt. I promise. – Jordan."

Underneath a small square of cardboard that the note sat on was a shiny steel butt-plug that widened to the size of a banana before tapering back down to the size of a dime. One end was adorned with a shimmering red crystal.

Beside the plug was a gold necklace with a diamond pendant, and to the left of that was a matching bracelet studded with even more diamonds. There had to be at least 5 carats worth of diamonds in the box. No man had ever bought me diamonds... or butt-plugs. In fact I'd never even used one, but that night at Jordan's was illuminating and I couldn't wait to try it. It was definitely going to take some practice if it was going to end up in anything but my purse.

I fumbled the box and it fell to the floor. Something else had fallen out of it. I knelt to pick it up and found a keycard to the Ritz Carlton in Westlake Village. Written in black sharpie on the reverse side of the key was another short note. "You deserve better than a Motel 6."

Unable to contain my excitement I beamed. This man was crazy. And I liked this kind of crazy.

TO BE CONTINUED

Thank you for reading! Please don't forget to sign up for my mailing list here for advanced notice about my new releases and free content! If you've enjoyed something I've written please don't hesitate to leave a review. Once again, thank you for your continued readership!

Passionate Deceptions – Teaser

Chapter 1 – Jennifer

"Miss? Miss? Can you hear me?"

I opened my eyes slowly to find that the world a blur, the sounds surrounding me like I was caught at the end of a tunnel and listening to echoes. An ache the size of Texas blistered across my forehead. I squinted to try and make sense out of where I was and made out the contours of two men standing above me.

"Miss, can you hear me?"

I said nothing because I couldn't.

"I need you to blink if you can hear me."

I blinked once; I didn't have enough energy to do it twice.

"Very good. My name is James Winters, and my partner is Jeffrey Smith. We are EMT's. You've been in a car accident and we're taking you to the hospital. Please blink if you understand me."

I blinked once more, and with that my blurred world began to shift as they pushed me on a stretcher, the wheels of it scraping along the black asphalt below. He thrust me into an ambulance and slid my stretcher into the bay.

I tried to speak again. "Wh-wh-where is he?" I muttered under my breath.

"Mam, please stay quiet and let us help you. You've sustained a head injury. We've got your neck and body stabilized. I need you to relax and let me work."

Jeff slammed the ambulance doors shut. James grabbed my right arm and put a large bore IV into my vein. "These are just fluids to keep you hydrated, for now." The coolness of the liquid rushed through me. I hated needles. The sounds around me began to normalize and my vision sharpened as I came back to the land of the living. The whaling sounds of the ambulance blocked out everything else as we sped off down the freeway, every thump of the wheels against the road perceptible.

As I relaxed I began to panic. "The man I was with. Where is he?" I said, struggling to talk.

"Miss, you need to relax. We're almost to the hospital."

I begged them. The thought of his fate causing me more panic than my own. "Tell me. Is he ok?"

"Mam, I need you to keep quiet until the medical team has evaluated you. We don't have the information you're seeking."

I shut my mouth and tried to replay the last few hours in my mind. I couldn't remember anything about a car accident, but I remembered Damien's face, his smile, and my aching need for him. "Damien!" I cried out. But this time no one responded, not even a comforting word from the EMT's.

The sirens stopped crying right after I did. The EMT pushed the ambulance door open to reveal a team of doctors waiting for me at the hospital's intake. James pulled me out the ambulance and stabilized my stretcher. He gave a rundown to the doctor on my suspected injuries and helped wheel me into the hospital as an entire medical team began to evaluate me for injuries. They pressed my body, felt my bones and inspected my flesh. I'd of felt violated if I hadn't just dodged death.

A doctor approached me. "Hey there, how're you doing?"

"I-I'm ok," I said, holding me head as it continued to ache.

"Do you have some pain in your head?" he said.

I nodded. "A little."

"I'd be surprised if you didn't. My name is Dr. Joseph and I will be assisting you today. I want you to follow this light with your eyes, ok?"

"Ok," I said.

He ran a penlight left and right across my eyes and I was able to track it. "Very good. Can you tell me your name?"

"Jennifer Davenport."

"Very good, Jennifer. Do you remember what happened to you?"

"Not really. Kind of." The memories of the accident slowly started to fill my mind as I imagined Damien hanging lifeless in his seatbelt in our overturned vehicle with blood dripping from his face like a fountain.

"That's ok. It's obviously early, but by the looks of it you've sustained a concussion, and a bad one at that. We're going to take some pictures of your brain but as far as major trauma goes, I think you're going to be ok. You've sustained no broken bones, just some bruising, and as far as we can tell you have no internal injuries. It's a good thing you were wearing your seatbelt. The CT will tell us more but that's what we know. I'm optimistic."

I tried to stay calm, I did. But I still hadn't been informed about the fate of my lover. It chewed at my mind. I pointed at the doctor to get his attention. "Where was the man I was with taken?"

The doctor looked down at me. "Man? I don't understand."

"Damien. He was driving. Is he ok?"

He looked down at me confused, his eyebrows scrunched up. "They only pulled one body from that wreck and it was you."

"That's not possible!" I said, but the moment I raised my voice it just made my head ache further. I gripped my forehead as my ratcheting stress ratcheted the pain in my head.

The nurse left the room and returned, pulling out a syringe and injected it into a v-shaped port in my IV line. "That ought to make you feel better. Now try and relax." The moment it hit my system a glaze enveloped my entire body. Morphine. I could hardly speak. I became compliant as they wheeled me into the CT room. I couldn't keep my eyes open a moment longer and passed out.

Chapter 2 – Jennifer

A week or so ago

I took a deep breath as I prepared to open the front door to my home. I almost didn't want to go in. I couldn't stand the thought of another fight with Steven. He was a rageaholic, and I knew that when I married him, but over the course of the last year he'd become an alcoholic too. It was a dangerous mix that left me unsettled and scared. But below all of that misery was a long history, after all he was still my husband and I loved him.

A year prior after ten years together in the DEA he'd lost his partner Erick Cornejo on the Mexico-California border in a drug bust gone south, and he hadn't taken it well. I tried to support him, I tried to help him, but he wouldn't have it. At every turn I was cast aside and belittled as he sunk further and further into a soul crushing depression that left him a shell of the man I once knew. A man I hoped to see again.

I opened the door to find him sitting on the couch and staring at the TV, yelling at the conservative news station covering the riots in Baltimore. An ice-cold bottle of IPA was in in hands, as usual, with twelve other empties piled up on the coffee table like a brown glass wall. He looked up at me. "What are you doing here this early?"

"It's 6pm. I live here," I said. "Lose track of time in all that ale?" He laughed and took a swig of his beer. I placed my purse on the coffee table in front of our brown leather couch. "Steve, we need to talk okay?"

He laughed again and chugged the rest of his beer. "Ain't much to talk about," he pointed to the beer bottles and cleared his straw blonde hair from his eyes. "This is who I am, if you don't like it then you can leave."

"Oh, there's plenty to talk about and I'm not going anywhere." The fact was when we got hitched I made a vow to him that I'd stand by him for better or worse. And I intended to keep that promise, regardless of what he threw in my direction. Deep down he was a good man once you stripped away his demons.

He paused for a second and stared at me with a drunken gaze. "Stay then," he said. "Stay and boss me around like you enjoy so much."

Steven didn't understand that me trying to help him was born in my commitment to our marriage. I hated when he doubted our relationship, or my commitment to helping him. "I will. I heard the border is heating up again on the news. Have you been paying attention? The same guys that killed Erick are still out there, aren't they?"

His eyes filled with fury and rage. "Excuse you?"

"You heard me. Yet here you are drowning in ale, as usual."

"All you give a shit about is money! You don't give a fuck about me, or what I've been through."

"That's not true! Listen, I don't make enough for us to survive on an administrative assistant's paycheck! Your disability ran out a month ago and we've got bills to pay. And all you do instead of getting back out there is to sit and drink beer, all day. It's only holding us back!"

"You don't know what I've been through!" he yelled.

"I do, but you don't give me any credit for it!"

"Really?" he said. "So you know what it's like to find your partner shot point blank in the head, and how it feels to inform his wife and family that he's been killed in the line of duty?"

"That's not what I'm saying. I understand what you've gone through because I've seen what it's done to you. Babe, you're better than this! Can't you see that?"

He took another swig from his beer and put it on the coffee table. "I'm not better than shit. I should have saved him from those cartel bastards."

"Babe, just let it go! It wasn't your fault. Can't you see that holding on to all of this anger is killing you? I'm not pushing you to work just because of the money. I'm pushing you because I'm tired of seeing you like this."

My heart began to pound. He stood up and walked toward me, his face riddled with rage, his soulful blue eyes as piercing as ever. For the first time in our relationship I was almost certain he was going to hit me. "I'll go back when I'm good and fucking ready!"

He turned and walked to the fridge and I followed him. He pulled out another bottle of ale and opened it with the dull side of a knife. He took a huge swig of it and rubbed the foam from his lips.

"What would Erick say if he saw you like this?"

He pointed the knife at me before he slammed it on the granite counter. "You watch your fucking mouth!" He threw the half full bottle against the wall behind me and it exploded into a million pieces covering our wooden floor with shards of glass and suds. He walked toward me until the stench of hoppy beer was evident on his breath. "I'm going to say this once, and only once. Don't you ever talk to me like that again. Do you understand me?"

He returned to the fridge to open up another beer as I choked up with tears. "Why are you saying this to me?" He'd never spoken to me in this way, but the rage and booze were mixing in a dangerous brew. After everything I'd done for him, he was so resistant to change, or even a comforting touch. He'd changed, and I didn't know if the man I still loved was in there once you stripped away the booze and regret.

He laughed and took a swig of ale. "I'll say whatever the hell I want. Now get out of my face and leave me alone." He walked back to the couch and stretched out on the chaise.

I ran to our room with tears in my eyes, slammed the door and texted my co-worker Susan Smith, a fellow administrative assistant at Schuster and Sons. "What are you doing tonight? I need to get out of the house and talk." She was the only one of the fellow assistants that I trusted not to spread rumors.

She responded almost immediately. "That bad huh?"

"Worse."

"Oh dear. Are you sure you can you get out tonight? Or is he going crazy again? Let me know if I need to call the cops."

"No cops! I don't know. I have to wait for him to pass out. He's really, really drunk. I can probably squeeze out at 9PM?"

"That works. Meet me at the bar in the W hotel downtown. We'll talk. Love you."

"Ok. I'll see you there." A sense of relief rushed through me. I needed a friend, and I had one.

I stayed in our room that once was full of love and sat on the corner of our bed, my face in my hands, crying my eyes out. It hadn't always been so bad. We'd been together ten years, seven of them amazing, two of them troubled, and one of them downright awful. Our relationship was hanging by a thread and I didn't even know if Steven cared enough to sustain it. I hated being the only one trying. It left me feeling empty and alone as I chased for a glimmer of hope that we'd get back to the way it was in those first seven years, but every day that passed that glimmer of hope got dimmer.

I understood that he'd been wounded by the loss of his partner and suffering from PTSD, but what I didn't understand is why he would push me away when all I wanted to do was help him. It seemed so counter-intuitive, so I reasoned that he'd become comfortable in his misery, but I refused to join him. The higher road for us both was me pulling him out of the mire and I was determined to do so.

8:30 PM rolled around and I slipped into a hip hugging black dress, released my ponytail so that my brown locks draped over my shoulders, and applied a thin coat of red lipstick to my lips. A black pair of Jimmy Choos Steven had given me as a gift five years prior caught my eye in the closet. I kicked off my flip-flops and slipped into them. I felt hot, hot enough to hang out with Susan who always looked immaculate.

Susan was an interesting woman. She'd always been my good friend and trusted confidant. She was younger than me by 2 years at 32; she had never been married but went through men like a hot knife through butter. Her raven black hair, young face, and sultry lips were weapons and she employed them. As much as I wanted to look down upon her non-traditional ways, I couldn't. Oddly enough, I respected her for her differences.

I checked my look one last time in the mirror. My eyes were swollen from the near constant flow of tears an hour earlier. I hoped by the time I made it to the bar they'd look normal again. As much as I trusted Susan, I didn't want her to see me like this. I didn't want to make her worry more than she already did.

I tip toed passed Steven who was passed out on the side of the couch and snoring, and headed toward my run down, oil gobbling 2005 Toyota Tercel parked in our driveway, and drove downtown. It only took a few minutes to get there from Bayho. I walked into the W hotel and was taken aback at how dead it was, but then again it was Thursday.

Susan was sitting at the bar sipping on a martini. I watched a Japanese businessmen approach her and get summarily rejected. She was merciless as he walked away with his head hung low. My eyes caught hers from across the room and she smiled. "Jennie!" she yelled, walking toward me like a top model on her neon blue heels that matched an equally bright blue dress. Dammit she looked hot. No matter what I wore I always ended up looking plain compared to her.

I smiled back, trying to hide the negative emotions bubbling just underneath my flesh. I scanned her up and down. "Damn you look hot."

She brought her martini glass up to her mouth and took a sip. "Thank you. And that black number on you? Girl, goddamn! Come on baby, let me buy you a drink and let's talk."

I followed her to the bar, she didn't hesitate to order for me, and she knew exactly what I wanted. "Vodka cranberry, on the rocks," she said.

The curly haired bartender wearing a bowtie smiled in return. "Coming right up, Miss." He began to make my drink without hesitation.

But as happy as I was to see her, my emotions started to bubble up. A tear slipped out of corner of my eye and I brushed it away quickly to prevent my mascara from running.

She lightly touched my shoulder. "Aww. Come on Jen, tell me what happened. Are the two of you ok? Couples fight you know?"

I sobbed a bit. "Not Iike this they don't. I want to believe we're ok, but he is in a horrible place mentally. Please don't repeat what I'm about to tell you."

"Ok, I promise. I won't. What is it?"

The bartender delivered my drink on a small white napkin and I took a sip. "Thank you," I said to him, and turned back to Susan. "For the first time since I've known him I stopped believing he wouldn't hurt me. I saw a look in his eyes I just can't explain. He threw a beer bottle at me."

"Really?" she said in a state of shock. "I never took him as the type."

"I know. He's not, he's really not. He's just never gotten over the loss of his partner. He blames himself and then he punishes himself, only now I'm the collateral damage taking shrapnel."

Susan looked me dead in the eyes. "Jen baby, I hate to ask you this, so please don't be mad."

"Ok," I said.

"Are you thinking of leaving him?"

I was appalled by the question. "Excuse me? No! That is not an option. We will get through this!"

"I only ask because I'm honestly scared for you sweetie. It's not right that he treats you like this. You deserve so much more. You're a beautiful, smart, and classy woman. He needs to see that, there are other men who will and will treat you as such."

I took another sip of my drink and felt the booze began to numb my emotional pain. "You're right. But I never made vows with any of those men."

She smiled at me. "Damn you are one tough bitch! And I mean that with the best of intentions."

I laughed, clearing the mist from my eyes. "I know. A weaker woman would have been gone long ago, huh?"

"Umm, yea!" she said, taking another sip of her martini. "But I respect your decision to stay. Lord knows I kick 'em out too quick."

I couldn't help but laugh. She always had a way of making me feel better. I finished my drink, when out of nowhere the bartender delivered me another vodka cranberry. I looked up at him surprised. "I didn't order this."

"You're right. You didn't." He pointed down the bar to a Hispanic man as striking as I'd ever seen who stared at me and smiled. "He did." He was wearing a grey wool business suit and a light gray tie, his brown eyes like two glimmering marbles, his black hair slicked back.

"Really?" I said in a state of shock and confusion. I looked at Susan. "Did you set this up?"

She shook her head and laughed. "No, babe. That's all you."

I looked at the bartender. "Send it back. I'm married."

The bartender smiled and carried the drink back to the man at the other end of the bar. Susan grabbed my arm. "Are you crazy? That guy is like super hot."

"He's all yours. I'm taken." A mischievous grin erupted on her face. "Are you sure?"

"I am." But just as I said that, the man stood up and walked toward me, his gaze magnetic as my eyes refused to look anywhere but in his. My heart pounded as he approached. With a smile he spoke. "If I'd have known you were going to be such a challenge I would have sprung for something more expensive."

Susan clamored. "Oh-my-god. I will leave you two alone." She stood up and quietly disappeared to the lobby of the hotel as the man inched a little bit closer.

With a conversation now unavoidable I grasped for the right words. "More expensive? Like what?" I said it with a smile though my nerves had never been more frayed.

"Blue Label Johnnie Walker always goes down smooth." He pulled out a stool from under the bar and sat right next to me.

"I'm sorry mister, I'm taken."

"Well at least let me introduce myself?" He held out his hand toward mine. "I'm Damien Hernandez, and it's a pleasure to meet you."

I hesitantly shook his hand; his grip was firm, his hands strong. For a split second I imagined them massaging the stress from my shoulders, though I halted those guilty visions as quickly as they'd started. "I'm Jennifer Davenport. What brings you to San Diego?"

"Business. As usual," he laughed. "My entire life revolves around airports and hotels."

I caught vulnerability in his eyes as he spoke. "Tough. I wouldn't enjoy that. What's your business?"

"Well, it's not as simple as that. I run multiple businesses for a large conglomerate. I am in the area closing a deal, and to be honest with you, it's going to be my last."

"Last?" I said.

"Yes. I'm retiring."

I looked him up and down. He wasn't a day over 40. "Yes, retire because you're so old."

He laughed. "I'm looking forward to a new chapter in my life, one that doesn't revolve around midnight conference calls, red-eye flights, and never ending stress." He waived down the bartender who came quickly. "May I have two Blue Label Johnnie Walkers, neat? On second thought, make them doubles."

"Absolutely," the bartender said. He fixed our drinks, sliding them toward us.

I was hesitant to grab mine, not wanting to give him the wrong idea, and knowing that Blue Label Johnnie Walker was so far out of my price range I'd never be able to pay him back. "It seems like you've got a great job, but you're not happy?"

"It's not that I'm not happy, it's the occupational hazard from all of the stress. Life can't be only about money and power. I want stability and a family, none of which this position affords me. I haven't been home to Manhattan in four weeks." He paused. "Enough about me. Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?"

I blushed, and after the excitement wore off, I realized that aside from Susan I hadn't been told I was beautiful in a long, long time. I finally took a sip of the whiskey before responding, and did so quietly. "No."

"That's a shame," he said, brushing a strand of hair away from my forehead. "Clearly you deserve better."

I began to sweat. I took another sip of the whiskey, noting how smooth it was. "Thanks for the whiskey, it's a real treat. Listen, I don't want to lead you on, I have a husband."

He smiled. "I know. You've only been talking about him all night."

I snapped at him. "And you don't care?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "Should I?"

I nodded, and took another sip of whiskey. "You most certainly should."

"I'm perplexed," he said.

"At what?"

"At you. You're here with a friend, you've been crying, and you're dressed to kill. What with the tears and all... I don't mean to pry, but is everything ok at home?"

I took a big gulp of whiskey and coughed. "My personal life is none of your business." Offended that he'd gone there I decided to wiggle out of the conversation. "Listen, it's been fun talking to you, and thanks for the drink, but I've got to go catch up with my friend."

He nodded. "Well that's disappointing. I know I'm a stranger, but I'm a good listener if you want to talk. I've always found it easier to talk to strangers when I'm in need, but that's just me."

"How convenient," I snapped. "Goodbye Damien." I shot the rest of the whiskey down my throat and slammed the glass on the table. I turned and walked toward the lobby where an attractive businessman was showering Susan with attention and affection.

Damien addressed me from behind as I walked toward Susan. "You don't really want to leave, you just think you have to."

I turned around in a state of shock. "Excuse you?" I didn't know if I was offended, angry, flattered, or all three combined. I was flummoxed. No man had ever been so forward with me.

"You heard me," he said, walking toward me with the most confident stride I'd ever seen. "I can see it in your eyes, swollen as they are from the tears your husband has put you through. The last place you want to end up tonight is back home."

"Really?" I snapped. "And I suppose you have no vested interest in where I go tonight, do you?"

"Only if you come with me," he said with a smile.

"Do you always get everything you want?"

"Always," he said, pulling a keycard from his wool suit jacket and handing it to me. "I'm in the penthouse, join me? The views of the city are incredible." He stared me right in the eyes, not saying another word as he waited for me to accept his proposal.

My resolve weakened as a thick silence lay between us. I grabbed the keycard from his hands and looked at it, legitimately considering his offer, but I was better than an adulteress and my husband needed me. I handed it back to him. "I'm married Damien, and those vows mean something to me, regardless of what I'm going through."

"I don't care. Deep down he'll never treat you like I will, and then again you'll never know. You're too busy hanging on to the exact thing which makes you miserable."

"You don't know anything about my marriage or me! And you should care because how we uphold the vows and the promises we make to others is reflective of who we are as people. I will never break my vows to my husband and especially not with a man I've just met who thinks they can buy my affection with an overpriced whiskey!"

"Jennifer, when I want something I go after it, and I never stop until I get it. I understand if you want to leave, or if you find me too forward, but I won't let up until you're mine." He pulled out a business card from his suit pocket and handed it to me. "Call me whenever you want, even if you just want to talk. I'd be delighted to hear from you, any time, any place. I leave San Diego for New York City in the morning." He let out a sigh of relief. "God it's going to be nice to get home."

I took his business card and noted the tasteful, modern design of it. "I'm never going to call you, but if it makes you feel better I'll keep your card."

He smiled. "You'll call."

I put the card into a secret pocket in my purse. Shocked at his arrogance I headed toward the lobby to meet Susan. She was now alone, running her index finger along the rim of her martini glass. I turned back to look for Damien but he'd disappeared.

Susan's eyes lit up as I approached. "Tell me everything!"

"Ugh! What an arrogant, cocky son-of-a-bitch! The things that came out of his mouth you wouldn't believe!"

She laughed. "What's his story? He looked loaded."

"He is. Money is not his problem."

She looked surprised that I'd turned him away; perhaps forgetting that I wasn't a free spirit like herself. "Then what's the problem? He's a knight in shining armor if I've ever seen one, and my god was he into you!"

I smiled. "The problem? I'm married."

"You're right, that is the problem. You're married to an asshole."

"Come on Susan, that's not what I meant. Please just let it go. I don't want to feel any worse than I already do."

"I understand." She finished her drink. "Are you ready to get out of here?"

"Yea, I'm ready. I hope Steven isn't awake when I get back. If he sees me in this dress he's going to flip."

"Remember you can always text me if you need anything." Her eyes caught those of another man at the bar. "Don't wait up. I'm going to talk to this one." She winked at me. "Who knows where it will lead, but I'm hoping his bed," she whispered.

I never understood how she could randomly sleep with a stranger, but more power to her. "Good luck, but with a dress like that you don't need it."

Susan meandered toward the dark haired stranger at the bar and I went back to my Toyota Tercel, hesitantly opening the door and firing up the engine. God dammit I didn't want to go home!

Chapter 3 – Jennifer

My heart was pounding as I pulled into my driveway. It was 2AM, and I had stayed out far longer than I'd planned. In only a few short hours I'd have to get up for another brutal day at the office dealing with my boss, who was, by any rubric imaginable, an asshole to nth degree.

I opened the door quietly to find the living room lights on. Steven was not on the couch passed out, but was instead staring right at me, a 375 milliliter bottle of Jack Daniels in his hand, half consumed. "Where in the hell were you?" he said, stumbling toward me. He looked me up and down. "You look like a fucking slut!"

I started to cry and began to hyperventilate. "I went out with Susan. Please don't be angry."

The stench of booze was thick on his breath. "Susan? Yea right, who did you see? Is there another man?"

"No. I would never cheat on you and you know that! It was just Susan and me. We talked, that's it."

He took a nip off the whiskey bottle. "I don't believe you!"

My hands began to shake. "We're married remember? You're supposed to trust me."

"Well I don't!" He stumbled backward.

I looked into his eyes, searching for the man I once loved but he just wasn't there. I shook my head in dismay at the realization he was a stranger. "Who are you?" I sobbed. "I want my husband back!"

"Well he isn't coming back! He's been gone for a long time, just like my partner."

"You're punishing yourself for no reason! It's not your fault baby, please. Once you understand that all of this pain will end!"

"Don't you dare tell me how to feel!"

"I'll tell you whatever I want!" I could see in his eyes that he was self-conscious, knowing that the man he'd turned into was pushing me away, but at the same time he was so trapped in the vicious machinations of his mind that he couldn't stop it.

"Look at you. You're not my wife; you're just some slut parading around town in that whore dress looking for my replacement. I can't trust you as far as I can see you." He sucked another bit of whiskey from his bottle.

I couldn't breathe. I became dizzy. No man had ever spoken to me in such a way, and my husband or not, I wasn't going to let him do it again. He crowded me against the wall. I looked to the door handle plotting my escape, it was still open.

"What the hell are you looking at?" he said.

He walked to the door and slammed it shut, locking the deadbolt. "I'm not done with you yet."

"Please just stop! I'm not your enemy!"

"You're a liar." He pulled his spare hand up, and with the back of it struck me across the face so hard I stumbled, falling to my knees as the iron rich taste of blood filled my mouth. I looked up at him in fear. Steven was a monster and it was then that I saw that he was capable of anything.

He took another swig of his whiskey. "Get up!"

I began to shiver uncontrollably.

"Get up!" he screamed, reiterating his rage down toward me.

I did as he asked and he smacked me again, leaving a rapidly swelling bruise on my eye socket that obstructed my vision. I waited in silence, every muscle and bone frozen in place as pain radiated through my face. From some bastion of strength inside of me my mouth opened, and words I never thought possible escaped. "Steven, I want a divorce."

At that moment, realizing the magnitude of his actions, and the loss of my undying love, something clicked in his mind, his facial expression changed from anger to sorrow in an instant. He began to sob and threw the bottle of whiskey into the kitchen where it shattered on the floor. He collapsed to the ground in front of me, his hands clasped together. "Please don't leave me baby I am so sorry for what I've done. I'm a mess and I take it out on you, it's not right. But if you divorce me you mine as well put a bullet in my head like Erick. You have to forgive me, you just have to!"

I looked at his groveling face. "No, Steven. I don't. One day I will forgive you, but this isn't right. This isn't a relationship, and it sure as shit isn't a marriage."

"I can make it up to you. I can!"

He began to panic. He stood up and tried to stroke my face, as if he could make it better. I pulled away. "Don't touch me!" I snapped.

"Stay there, please don't go." He stumbled toward the refrigerator trying to make me a cold compress out of a few ice cubes and a washcloth, but mostly just spilled stray ice cubes into the mix of glass and whiskey strewn about the tile floor.

Steven returned to me placing the cold compress on my face. "Stop!" I yelled. "Just leave me alone I need time to think."

His sobbing intensified as he came face to face with the rapidly swelling bruises on my face. "Jesus Christ baby I'll never hit you again. This, this has gone too far! I promise you baby, I will be the husband you remember. Please just give me another chance. I swear on my life I will change."

"Forget it. I don't want your help!" I took the compress he'd made me and held it to my face. He sulked away into our room, stumbling toward the hallway. I looked at my watch, it was 3:00 AM and the workday was closing fast. I was out of sick, vacation, and personal days already having to deal with Steven, and I was going to have to go in.

I cried some more, shocked at how I'd allowed myself to get into a situation like this. I'd watch my friends deal with abuse; I'd even counseled them through it. I recognized the cycle forming as he beat me down and pulled me back in. One thing was certain, counseling a friend through abuse was far simpler than enduring it. It was more horrible than I ever imagined possible, because there was a part of me that wanted to leave, and there was another part of me that, for some unknown reason, begged at me to stay. He could change.

Perhaps I was an optimist. But what if what he said was true? If he'd turned over a new leaf I could look past this experience to reignite the good in our relationship once more. Everybody fails, and everyone deserves a second chance. He'd acknowledged what he'd done, and if this was our rock bottom it could only get better from here. I hoped. But there was a newly minted pessimist that emerged from within that vehemently disagreed. He's just going to do it again. You've seen it before, he's no different! Don't be a fool!

In a state of emotional disarray I texted Susan. "I need to talk." I waited patiently, staring at my phone as the minutes went by, but she didn't respond. I texted her again. "Please respond I need to talk to you." Nada. I assumed she'd spent the night with the man at the bar, or like any other normal person at 4:00 AM, was fast asleep in her bed.

She was the only one I trusted. I thought about calling my mom but didn't want to alarm her, for now I had this under control but I needed to vent. I gave Susan a few more minutes and then I did the unthinkable, I pulled out Damien's business card and stared at it.

When the urge to text him became too intense I caved. "Damien? It's Jennifer."

When five minutes went by and I didn't receive a response I lost all hope. And then, when I'd got up to lay on the couch and try to catch some shuteye, my phone vibrated. There was a moment of excitement that rushed through me as I read his text. "That was fast. See, I knew you'd reach out."

My blood boiled at his response. I didn't want to deal with anymore of his arrogant cocky bullshit. I was in no mood for it. "If I knew you were going to be so arrogant I wouldn't have!"

He backtracked quickly. "I apologize. I didn't mean to be arrogant. I was just flirting. Is everything ok? You sound... tense."

"No, everything is not ok. My husband just beat the shit out of me." Just saying those words to another soul helped me feel better. Maybe Damien was right after all.

"I know we've barely met but god dammit that pisses me off! You don't deserve that! Are you ok?"

"No one deserves it. Yes, I'm ok. For now."

"Can you talk on the phone?"

At that moment I knew his manly voice would sooth me, but I couldn't risk it. "No, I'll wake him."

"Ok. Please stay calm and try not to panic. Do you have anywhere you can go, perhaps your friend's house or a parent's house?"

I began to sob again as I realized the gravity of the situation, and how, whether I liked it or not, if I left Steven my life was going to change drastically. "I don't. I don't want anyone to worry about me."

"I understand. Have you called the police?"

"No. No police. I don't want them involved. My husband is a DEA agent; they'll take his side. I don't know what to do!"

"I understand. Listen, this is a clear-cut case to me. You're leaving him."

I'd never texted so ferociously. "It's not that easy! I can't. I just can't. He swore that he wouldn't do it again."

"That's a god damned lie and I think you know it. This is what abusers do. Where are you? I am coming to get you. I will pay for a hotel, food, anything you need. Just let me know where you are and I will scoop you up before I fly out. I will even stay with you if you need me to. My sister had this happen to her, and it never got better, only worse."

"No. I can't, I just needed to vent to someone. I'm not looking for you to rescue me."

If sighs were audible through text I would have heard one. "Well, okay then."

As five minutes went by I realized that I had been rude, so I texted him once more. "I'm sorry for being so rude to you. I know you were trying to help. Thanks for talking to me and thanks for your generous offer. I'll be in touch."

He responded quickly, which left me uneasy knowing that he'd ignored me before. "Ok, then. Be safe. Take care of yourself." And then there was nothing. Like that he disappeared. Not a text, not a call, or even a smiley to say goodbye.

TO BE CONTINUED AT YOUR FAVORITE RETAILER

