BILLIONAIRE'S DESIRE

4. Challenge

CHAPTER FOUR: CHALLENGE

REED’S POV

“So her cleavage turned you on, but you’re still claiming

she’s not pretty? Dude, are you that desperate for some p***y?” Blake

laughed, exchanging a rowdy high-five with Collins.

“Like hire a f*****g escort or something. There is plenty of women to go around,” Collins laughs too. They are really having fun at my expense.

I rolled my eyes, gripping the edge of my glass so hard I almost cracked it. Where the f**k was the stripper I’d paid for? My so-called friends wouldn’t let go of the Scarlett situation. Apparently, being momentarily hypnotized by her cleavage now made me the punchline of the week.

“Ha-ha,” I said dryly, “laugh all you want. If you had been in that cafe, you’d understand why it was so f*****g easy to get hard.”

Truth was, I still couldn’t get the image out of my mind. That neckline, so dangerously low it still had my mind in a f*****g gutter. The way she adjusted her glasses like she didn’t know the kind of damage she was doing. None of the women who’d tried to grind on me since I walked into the club had come close to erasing her from my brain. I needed something, someone, to override the memory. So yeah, I’d paid triple the usual fee for a private show.

“Come on,” Collins grinned. “Everyone knows you’re not the type to get all weak over a pair of boobs. What do you say, guys? Maybe we stop by the company tomorrow and check out ‘booby Scarlett’ ourselves?”

“Count me in,” Jade giggled, sipping her drink through a red straw.

“None of you are stepping foot in my office,” I muttered darkly. Just as the words left my mouth, I spotted the club manager approaching.

“She’s ready for you, sir. Please follow me,” he said, all professional charm.

“About damn time.” I stood up, smirking.

“Yeah,” Blake called after me, “you clearly need it.”

I shoved my hands deep into my pockets to keep from flipping him off, following the manager past velvet curtains and up to the private floor.

“I hope it’s worth the triple,” I told him. “You know one bad review can ruin a career.”

“Trust me, Candy is one of our best,” he replied confidently. “You won’t be disappointed.”

Now that was the kind of assurance I liked. Even in business… or pleasure.

He led me to a private room on the fourth floor, then left me alone. The space was dimly lit with flashing club lights and moody shadows. A leather couch faced a short performance table, a stocked mini bar glimmering on the side. Seductive, slow music trickled from hidden speakers, vibrating through the air like a promise.

I sat down, anticipation curling hot in my gut. A knock, then the door opened.

And there she was.

Wearing a sheer floral galloon lace bra with delicate underwire and gold hardware, paired with a matching skirt, garters, and thong. Candy was more than I’d imagined. Curves that could end careers. Legs that begged to be touched. Lips painted a shade of red that should’ve come with a warning.

My smirk returned as she walked in slowly, deliberately, every move like a well-rehearsed seduction. She didn’t say a word as she climbed onto the table. Her French-manicured fingers glided from her collarbone down between her breasts, her movements teasing and slow, pulling my focus like a magnet.

Then she squatted low, hands on her knees, legs parted just enough to make me suck in a sharp breath. I gripped the couch cushion, every muscle in my body clenching. I was this close to saying f**k the rules and grabbing her. But then again, Dominic would have my head if I end up in jail for s****l harassment.

She traced a finger down her inner thigh, brushed it over her lace-covered core, then brought the same finger to her lips, kissing it with a wicked smile.

“Bring it on, Candy,” I muttered, my voice rougher than I expected.

She made her way toward me, hips swaying with lethal confidence. Then she leaned in and dragged a finger slowly across my lips.

“They don’t call me Candy for nothing,” she whispered in my ear, her voice soft and breathy, but somehow familiar. “Tonight, I’m yours.”

There was a jolt in my brain at her voice, something too recognizable. But I was too f*****g turned on to care.

“So why ‘Candy’?” I asked, not for conversation, but just to hear her talk again.

She smiled, playful and dark. “Because every man wants something sweet that’s bad for him.”

“When you put it like that, it sounds illegal.”

“Be careful,” she said, dragging her tongue over her lower lip. “Some addictions can kill you.”

She turned around and began sliding down, slow and sensuous, until her ass hovered over my lap. The movement made contact with my already hard length. She wriggled deliberately, teasing the tip of my c**k through my pants with the soft curve of her ass.

I clenched my fists. I wanted her under me. Naked. Moaning my name.

“So, are you here every night?” I asked, breath shallow.

“Who wants to know?” she countered smoothly, not breaking rhythm.

“A man already craving his next fix.”

I reached out, grabbing her ass. She immediately smacked my hand away, tsking.

“First, no touching,” she said, turning her head slightly. “Second, I don’t do repeat clients. Especially not cocky rich boys.”

“I paid three grand. Let me make you a new offer.”

She c****d her head, curious.

“Will there be s*x involved?”

“I wouldn’t mind.”

“Then it’s a no.”

I chuckled. “Fine. No s*x. But six grand for two hours next Monday. Private dance. My place.”

She hesitated, then turned to face me. “Ten.”

“Ten? You’re tough.”

“Take it or leave it, rich boy.”

I grinned. “I’m in.” I gave her ass a playful slap, watching it bounce. But something wild flickered inside me; a challenge. And the second she looked away, I moved, sliding my card to her.

“I’ll think about!” she says.