The sun is the first thing that wakes me. It’s 6:45 am as I look at the clock and I’m usually up by 6.

Christ. I slept in again.

I look over to my right and at the naked man and I realize the reason why I slept in.

Last night was like something out of a porno - except I was both the director and star.

What’s his name again? I’m having trouble remembering.

Bill?

Mike?

No. It’s Barry. Right. Barry Miller or something like that. He's sleeping on his front, in a deep and dreamless slumber.

I think he’s passed out after the workout I gave him. I don't think he’s used to women taking charge like I did.

I look over at him. He’s six feet two inches. He’s muscular. I’ve seen him around the gym a few times too. He works out pretty thoroughly and has a nice body. I mean, 6 pack abs are nice. Leg and back muscles are great. But I’ve seen it all. His cock isn't bad. About 9 inches. It gets the job done.

But overall? It’s just meh. Another bad boy in a long line of bad boys. All looking at themselves in the mirror, trying to look like the perfect alpha male. All trying to be brooding and mysterious. I seriously chew them up and spit them out without a thought nowadays. They think they’re all that before they meet me. They think they’re players. That they can drink and fuck everything in their path.

I don’t mind that. Let people be people. But they think they’re God’s gift to women. That women will just drop everything in their lives to suck their cock.

Yeah, Barry wasn’t bad, but I’ve had better.

I am better.

I mean, you name it, I’ve fucked it. Mafia hit men. Billionaires. Princes. Firefighters. Cowboys. Even some really wealthy guy that claimed to be a dragon.

I wake up the guy. I doubt he’s the one usually getting woken up after sex. He’s probably so used to tiring the girl out that she can’t walk the next day.

Not me.

“Hey Julianna,” he murmurs as he opens his eyes.

But we don’t have time for small talk. I’m usually at my punching bag by this time. I start my day with some yoga. Then I hit the bag. Then I run. And by 7:30 am, I’m showered and in the office.

I’ve followed this same schedule since I was 7. I was determined to succeed back then at life. I kept that determination when I went to college - graduating magna cum laude from Yale, and then getting my MBA at Harvard at the top of my class. Oh, it wasn’t all studying all the time. Trust me. I knew where my priorities were, sure, but I also knew I had urges I needed to fulfill. And trust me when I tell you I wasn’t going to let a bunch of old men who made rules dictate what I could or couldn’t do with my body. Fuck them. I dressed how I wanted to, ate how I wanted to, fucked who I wanted to. So you’d see me at a fraternity party with the guys checking me out. But I was deciding myself which one I wanted. Regardless of who came up to me, I always placed my desires first.

That’s why when the investment bank Carter Jeffries offered me an Analyst role, I jumped at the chance. Five years later I was the youngest Managing Director in the history of the Firm. Five years after that I was their CEO. But I wasn’t content to just stay at CEO. I started a holding company and began buying distressed real estate right after I got out of Business School. It began doing really well and by the time I was made CEO of Carter Jeffries, I was able to sell it for a nice amount.

What’s a nice amount to me? Try $5 billion.

After climbing the top of Wall Street, there was one thing I needed to do in life. So the next year, I quit and bought the New York Nailers football team.

I paid the entire $1.8 billion out of my own pocket.

That’s right. I paid for a football team like some men go buy cars.

How many bad boys you know that do that?

To be fair, it was hard work. I bought the team last year. And over the course of one year, I turned it around from a bankrupt organization bleeding money to something that I was hoping could be Super Bowl worthy this year.

But all that wouldn’t happen if I couldn’t get out of bed.

“Did you sleep good, baby?” Barry asks, and I come out of my self-reflection.

Fuck. I’m late for work. But I need to fuck.

“No time for talk, hon,” I say, putting him to his back and straddling him.

I’m naked and I can see his eyes go wide as he sees my tits waving in front of his face. I take his cock in my hands and start stroking it. It’s still soft, but I can take care of that.

Bad boys think they can handle any woman. But they can’t handle me. I’m the one thing that a bad boy alpha male can’t handle.

I’m a bad fucking girl.

He’s getting hard, but I have a schedule. I also have an itch I need to scratch before my day.

I slip down and kiss his chest, licking the erect nipples on his hard pecs.

God, I love pecs. And broad shoulders. And 6 packs. 8 packs are even better

I kiss all the way down his body and run my tongue up and down Barry’s shaft. I take the tip of his cock in my mouth and watch his eyes roll back in his head.

When I met him yesterday at the bar, Barry was your typical alpha male. He thought he was bad. He told me about his motorcycle. He angled himself so I could see his profile. His massive body. He told me how he was a CEO for some financial services firm.

Then he asked me what I did.

I told him I owned a football team.

That’s when he realized who and what I was.

By the time we fucked, he knew who was boss.

Barry’s hard now. It didn't take too long at all. Just a quick simple few licks up and down his shaft as my hands cupped his balls. I run my tongue up and down the tip of his cock before taking the head in my mouth.

“Oh fuck, Julianna,” he moans as I lift my face and move my body up, coming up to him and angling my pussy on top of his dick.

Julianna. Not ‘baby’ or ‘babe’.

Damn right, he better call me by my name. Tell me who’s boss now, bitch. I slide his dick into me and gasp. It fills me up and he moans out loud. I’m silent and I start pumping myself on him. Fuck, it feels good to fuck.

I love sex. I love having sex. And I love loving to have sex. As long as someone isn’t trying to steal someone else’s significant other, I think people should have as much sex as they want. And God help any man that tries to tell me that I need to be pure and virginal because that’s a woman’s place in society. Fucking men have been going around fucking everything forever. No one calls them sluts. No one shames them. I swear whenever someone ever tries that with me, I destroy them. It’s happened before. It’ll happen again.

Barry takes his hands and grabs my ass. Good. I like my ass getting squeezed. I bite my lip and shuck myself on his pole a few more times. I bring my hand to my breast and start twisting my left nipple.

God, that’s good. I close my eyes and focus on the pleasure, taking one of Barry’s hands and placing it on my other breast.

Barry’s breathing heavy, but I’m about there. I speed up my thrusts on Barry.

Barry tries to get up and get me on my back, but I open my eyes and make sure my hand pushes him back down.

“No way, hon,” I tell him. “I’m late for work this morning already. So, me first.”

The look of resigned defeat in his eyes does something for me. I don’t know what. This normal alpha male. Made submissive by my body. My pussy taming his cock. He’s never going to look at another girl the same way. But I’ll be done with him after this morning.

Just his subservient eyes are enough to push me over the edge. I close my eyes as my orgasm washes over me. I feel the tightening of my pussy as it clenches around his cock and the explosions go off across my body. I’m hot and then I’m cold and all of a sudden I’m floating in a sea of bliss. It crests over me and I feel tiny pinpricks of fire from every pore until my mind goes completely blank.

When I open my eyes, I’m breathing heaving and a trickle of sweat is coursing down by boobs. I look at him and give a few final up and down strokes with my body before getting off of him. He’s lying there, looking at me.

I get out of bed and walk to the shower.

“Hey,” he calls out. “What about me?”

Crap. This is the part I always hate. Not because of what I’m about to say. But because he’s going to be so damn childish about it.

I turn around.

“Sorry, hon,” I say, trying to act sympathetic. “I have an early morning meeting; can you take care of it yourself?”

“You what?” he asks, incredulous.

“Yeah,” I say. “I’m in a rush, but if your feelings are hurt, I can say I have a headache, or whatever,” I reply, not really talking to him anymore but walking to the intercom next to my bed. I push it and the building concierge comes on the speaker. Because I live in the penthouse, I have a dedicated concierge downstairs in reception. That’s luxury in New York City for you.

“Sammy,” I say into the speaker, “Can you please call me an Uber? Maybe have it here in ten minutes?” I ask.

“Sure thing, Ms. H!” Sammy says into the speaker.

I hang up and turn to Barry. He’s looking at me like I smacked him with a dead fish.

“The car’s on its way,” I tell him. “I’ll give you a call when I’m free, okay?”

I head to bed quickly and give him a quick kiss on the lips.

“It was nice to meet you, Barry,” I say and get off the bed heading to the shower.

The last thing I hear as I walk into my shower is Barry saying, as if in a daze, “It’s Bill.”

Fuck. I should have gone with my gut. But I shrug.

Plenty of fish in the sea.

* * *

An hour later my limo pulls up to the Meadowlands stadium and offices of the New York Nailers. It’s 8 am. I’m half an hour late and not happy.

For one, I usually spend the first half hour of the day from 7:30 am to 8 am centering myself for the day ahead.

But the bigger reason is that I’m going to have a meeting at 8 am with the head coach for the Nailers. Coach Karl.

The man who replaced my father.

That’s right. My father who gave thirty years of his life coaching the New York Nailers in some capacity or another. Who started from the bottom and eventually became Head Coach. And at the twilight of his career who was replaced by his best friend, Karl Stoffer. Who died watching his team going to the Super Bowl that same year. The same coach who never had a Super Bowl title and then built the greatest team in his career only to see his dreams snatched away from him.

So what did his daughter do?

When she grew old enough, and wealthy enough, she bought the team.

I didn’t fire Coach Karl. I wanted to slowly torture him, day by day. For now, that meant putting up with him. But I wasn't going to make life easy for the fucker either.

I call my secretary, Trudy, and tell her to move my meeting with Coach Karl to later on in the day. I don’t care when she tells me that the Coach is waiting outside my office or that he came in early from home just for this meeting that I insisted be in the morning.

I don’t value his time.

I don’t value him.

Instead, I decide to plow into some work for the next three hours until the most exciting set of meetings that I have that day.

A face to face sit down with Colt Stackford and then Ethan Blake.

I can’t wait.

* * *

I thought 11:30 am couldn't get here soon enough, but all of a sudden I’m sitting across a desk from Colt Stackford.

The man has the smirk that’s driving me insane.

I just had sex this morning. But then, why am I salivating over his Greek god body, that fills out his Armani tailored suit?

I take a moment to look him up and down. He's got a handsome, to die for face. Blonde hair that’s perfectly coiffed. His jaw is chiseled and his face is lean. Hungry. His eyes are icy blue and deep. They hold something dark. That face sits on top of an elegant neck and one of the most fantastic specimens of human male I have ever seen. Shoulders so broad that they could stop a truck. A chest that you can tell has pecs the size of wooden boards. Washboard abs. A tall, 6 foot 4-inch sculpture of perfection. With a bulge in his trousers that hints at a package sends tingles to my pussy

That’s right. I may want to fuck him. Or not. But it’s my decision. And right now, I am definitely leaning for fucking his brains out.

Control yourself, Julianna! I tell myself as I get up and walk around my desk.

“We both know that I’m going to be the most valuable asset this team has, Ms. Heaton,” he says to me, smirking again.

So fucking full of himself. So cocky.

“I don’t fucking care, Colt,” I say sternly. All of a sudden, it’s like I poured ice water down his shirt. He starts and looks up at me.

“The New York Nailers only have a salary cap for one of you fuck-ups,” I say sweetly. “Unfortunately, I’m going to have to choose between you and Ethan Blake.”

Colt’s silent. I doubt he’s ever been this quiet for this long in his life.

“Now tell me, if I only have $30 million dollars in my salary cap and you and Ethan both cost me $40 million together, I’m in a bit of trouble, aren’t I?” I ask, sitting against my desk, just six inches from his marvelous body.

I’m wearing a black pencil skirt and a purple silk blouse. I have on my pearls and my gold hoop earrings. And my heels. My six-inch black heels.

I like to dress sexy for work. From my thong to my blouse - everything is there to accentuate my curves. My tits. My ass. My legs. My entire body.

And it works now on Colt, as he stands up and walks to me.

“You’ll pick me,” he says softly, taking two steps closer.

My heart rate starts to increase with each step he takes closer to me. I can smell him. His musk. It’s cologne. And sweat. And man.

My brain starts to feel intoxicated as I stand up to meet him.

“You think you can tell me what to do?” I ask, my eyes flashing at him. I wonder if he truly can.

“I can tell anyone what to do,” he says. Innuendo is running wild between us. “I’m Colt fucking Stackford. QB1 for the NFL.”

“That doesn’t mean shit to me, hon,” I say with a smile. If that’s the most he’s got, then he’s got another thing coming.

And that’s when he surprises me.

“It’s Colt,” he says. “Not ‘hon’”.

He’s an inch away from me. “And it doesn't mean anything to you because you’ve never been to a rodeo like this, babe.”

My nostrils flare. It’s not even lunch time and my panties are fucking wet. But I like the dance.

“It’s Julianna,” I say. “Not ‘babe’”.

He smiles at me. His perfect teeth flash as he lowers his head. I want him to kiss me. Fuck, I could take him on this desk right now.

His face is centimeters from mine. My eyelids start to droop.

And that’s when the buzzer to my phone rings and Trudy’s voice comes on.

“Ms. Heaton, Ethan Blake is here for your 11:45 meeting.”

Fuck.

I should have given the both of them more than 15 minutes each for their meetings.

Colt senses that the moment’s gone as well and he pulls away. He looks at me as he takes a few steps back and starts walking to the door. “I’ll be waiting for your decision, Ms. Heaton,” he says, and I wonder which decision he’s referring to. “I’m a patient man.”

“I’ll be watching you,” I say, my blood rushing to my brain. “Let’s hope you don’t disappoint me.”

He smirks and turns around. I look at his perfect ass as he opens the door and heads out.

I sigh. I need to cool myself down. I try to clear my head and look out the window towards the stadium. My stadium.

That’s when the doorway darkens and I turn to see dark brown hair on a ruggedly handsome, outdoorsman of a face. With slight dimples, deep brown, soulful eyes. And the most gorgeous frame I’ve ever seen.

Ethan Blake.

Fuck.

This decision is going to be hard.