Billionaire Romance Boxed Set 1(22)

“Oh I’m fine, sir. I must be made of steel,” she joked.

“You know, if any of your medical bills are going to be an issue, I have a friend or two at the Chamber of Commerce who might be able to help you out,” he said, very matter of factly.

“Really?” she said, maybe with a little too much hope in her voice.

“Yes, really. Why don’t you come back to my place with us tonight and we can talk it over?” he said. The tone of his voice betrayed exactly what they’d be “talking” about if she went home with him.

Tracy’s hope instantly deflated. It’s not that she didn’t want to have sex with him, but she knew that if she went home with him tonight, she’d just be used up and thrown away in the morning. He might not even have the connections he claimed to have, but there’s no doubt that he’d pressure her into sleeping with him if she went home with him. “I’m sorry, I’ve got to get home early tonight, doctor’s orders. Maybe another night?” she said, hoping it wouldn’t come to that.

He sounded honestly a little deflated himself by her answer. “Yes, of course. Another time.” He looked down at his menu, then his eyes slowly crept up Tracy’s body, as if taking a panoramic snapshot. Tracy let it happen of course. After all, he was probably going to be her biggest tipper of the night, but it still felt demeaning.

She expected him to stop at her tits, but he kept going, and they locked eyes. Suddenly, Tracy felt a blinding flash from behind her eyes, and nearly lost her balance. She closed her eyes until the sensation went away, and opened them again when she heard the rich man’s voice.

“Are you okay?” he asked, the real concern back in his voice.

“Yeah, just a little headache,” she said, unsure of what had just happened.

“Well, you make sure to take care of yourself, and think over my offer,” he said. His date returned from the bathroom, and the rest of the night went pretty smoothly. The way the young bimbo looked at him, she could tell that she was going to sleep with him that night. Knowing him, he’d probably be dumping her in the morning. Tracy left a little after Mr. Hayes did, feeling too sleepy to close down the restaurant for the night due to the pain medication she had taken, and went straight back home and went to bed.

Her dreams started fitfully, making no real sense. She remembered flying through space, a bunch of plus signs coming out of nowhere, some swirls of light, and then:

All of a sudden her dream became crystal clear. She was in a room, and the lights were dim. She looked down but only saw floor. I guess I’m just a disembodied set of eyes, she thought to herself. She looked around and saw a king-sized bed. Focusing closer on the bed, she saw the Mr. Hayes on it, naked. His details were fuzzier than the rest of the dream world, but she could still see his six-pack abs and huge pectorals.

A woman sauntered out of the bathroom, dressed in black lingerie. Tracy looked closer and saw that the girl was her! Well, maybe not quite, but at least a close representation of her. Her hair was much darker, and her stare was much more intense than anything she could pull off. Other than that, it was her face and body. She came out and walked right to the foot of the bed. His eyes were fixated on her, and other than the bed, the rest of the room lost focus and sort of faded away. Tracy watched with fascination as “she” looked at him up and down.

“You disgust me,” she said, her voice deeper and huskier than Tracy’s was in real life.

“But I just want to please you,” he said.

“You’ll never please me,” she replied.

“But…”

“Get back down,” she barked at him, and suddenly a pair of wraps materialized and tied his hands to the head of the bed.

He seemed to lie there, paralyzed, as she crawled up on the foot of the bed. She moved her way up slowly, maintaining eye contact the entire time. He was visually getting anxious, shifting back and forth a little as she slowly made her way up to his cock. All of a sudden Mr. Hayes’ body came into focus, and his cock was rock hard. “Tracy” grabbed it, and held it. She seemed to squeeze it, and for a moment Tracy thought she might break it in half. Instead, with eyes still locked on Mr. Hayes’ eyes, she asked him a question.

“What do you want?” The question seemed to echo in a thousand different voices, as if a thousand different girls had asked him the question before. Complete silence for a moment as the two of them continued to lock eyes.

Mr. Hayes answer came in the same form. A thousand different quiet voices, all his own this time, came back with answers like “Let me do it,” and “I’ll take it from here,” and “If you want something done right…” But as these answers rang out, a single voice, sharper, clearer, rang out. It was pleading, hopeful with some statements but full of despair in others. “Please, do this,” and “I need your help with this,” and “I’m counting on you.” Eventually, the voice began repeating the same phrase over and over.