Cheryl glanced at her watch and quickly snapped her textbook closed. The economics of foreign markets would just have to wait. She’d promised to go out with Tiffany and she always had been a person to keep her promises, even the reluctant ones.

Nightclubs were not really her scene. However, her friend loved clubbing more than any woman should. Tiffany was wealthy, insanely beautiful, and owned her own line of designer clothing. The girl partied her ass off almost every night of the week.

They’d known each other since grade school and insisting on a night out on the town was just Tiffany’s way of dragging her out of the house. Cheryl supposed that’s what friends were for, annoying the life out of a person when they really needed to study.

As she got ready, Cheryl couldn’t help but harbor a secret desire to meet someone special. She found herself daydreaming again of her perfect man. He would be tall, dark, and handsome. He’d be wealthy, complicated to figure out, and have a little edge to him. Naturally, her perfect man would be simply crazy about her. She smiled to herself.

If I’m gonna dream, then I might as well dream big.

Her enthusiasm dimmed somewhat when she remembered that Tiffany had a bad habit of trying to hook her up with rich, eligible bachelors. Unfortunately, they were usually wealthy CEO’s who couldn’t stop preening long enough to flirt with a woman. Shoving aside the depressing thought, she scurried out the door praying for something wonderful to happen.

Arriving at the nightclub, she spied Tiffany sitting at a large table crowded with people. She put on her smiling face and joined their little party. It was clear the men were filthy rich because they were all talking business, marginalizing the females, and jockeying for social standing against each other. Formulating a quick plan in her head, she decided to drink fast and duck out early.

A couple of drinks later and she was loosened up enough to flirt with the hot server as he dropped their last round of drinks on the table. That got her a couple of snarky comments from the men, but she was way past caring. Even Tiffany seemed to have to conceded that they were a waste of skin.

That’s when it officially turned into a girl’s night out. The women flocked to the dance floor together, dancing in a group like drunken frat girls. It was the first bit of real fun she’d had all night. Closing her eyes, she let the music take her away.

As she moved to the beat of the music, Cheryl allowed her tipsy mind to drift to her favorite fantasy. In it, she dreamed of a man so hot her panties would fly off at the mere sight of him. Images of a ripped naked torso drifted through her mind. God, she loved a guy with sculpted abs. She was all too aware that masculine endowments, much like coffee, came in three basic sizes. Though she always ordered a regular size coffee, she’d want her endowment in the grande or venti category. She smiled as she continued to refine the image of her perfect man. He would be a genuine bad boy with a heart of gold. Oh yeah, he’d need to have a fabulous sense of humor as well. He would be thoroughly obsessed with her. In fact, in her fantasy, the man just couldn’t keep his hands off her. She could almost feel his strong arms cradling her body.

Opening her eyes lackadaisically, she noticed a man across the room looking straight at her. He certainly looked like her imaginary fantasy man. He stood well over six feet tall. His broad shoulders and muscular physique set him apart from almost every other man in the room. The handsome stranger was wearing a designer suit, but looked nothing like Tiffany’s friends. As her eyes slid over him, she realized what the difference was. His suit hugged every taut muscle and cradled the huge bulge growing beneath his well-cut trousers. She watched him reach down to adjust himself as he looked at her. A smile threatened to curve her lips. When was the last time a man had been so aroused by the sight of her that he’d needed to rearrange his junk? She couldn’t remember. She closed her eyes just as she saw him drain the last of his shot. The look on his face was predatory and lustful, pushing her sexy fantasy into total overdrive.

When she beckoned forth her fantasy lover again, she was pleased to discover that he had a face and thick, corded neck muscles. It was all too easy to incorporate the newly acquired information into her private fantasy. She imagined how their tongues would tangle together as they struggled to divest each other of clothing. He would be so hot for her that he would rip her clothing in his eagerness to get her naked. Pinning her beneath him, he would devour her, taking and taking and taking some more. The images in her mind were powerfully erotic.

Suddenly, a hand slipped around her waist from behind, gently drawing her back into a wall of solid muscle. Starting slightly, she stilled as a raspy voice whispered into her ear.

“You want to tell me what you’re thinking about out here all alone on the dance floor with your eyes closed?”

She knew without looking, it was the handsome stranger from across the room. He smelled like masculine skin care products, whiskey, and hot sexy man. Glancing back into his warm hazel brown eyes, she shook her head slightly. Yet, her body betrayed her by melting back into his embrace.

His hands moved down, skimming over her mound briefly before coming back up.

“Don’t think for a minute that I can’t tell when a woman’s fantasizing about riding my cock.”

She laughed nervously. “There are a lot of men here. Even if I were thinking nasty thoughts, odds are it could involve any number of guys.”

“Yeah Doll, there are a lot of guys here. Not many men, though, and I think you have a thing for real men,” he remarked.

“Don’t act like you know me,” she replied.

“I know you couldn’t wait to get away from those desk jockeys you were sitting with earlier. What kind of man prefers talking to other men over hitting on a hot chick? Pussies, that’s who. I saw you flirting with the waiter. For fuck’s sake, he was more of a man than those idiots ever thought of being.”

She smiled back at him as they continued to sway to the music. No use arguing with this one. He was a good dancer and she was all too comfortable in his strong arms. “You got me there, big guy,” she shrugged.

“Let’s get outta here, Doll.”

His words jolted her back to reality because they bespoke a kind of reckless impulsiveness she’d never once embraced. She began to pull away, worrying that he was not the kind of man to take no for an answer.

“I need to go powder my nose,” she told him.

He tilted his head and one corner of his mouth quirked up. “Your nose is fine, Doll.”

Her lips pressed together in a hard line. “I need to pee,” she further clarified.

His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Wouldn’t be tryin’ to ditch me would ya, Doll?”

She looked away, avoiding his gaze as she stammered. “Be right back.”

Standing in front of the mirror in the ladies’ room, she stared at her reflection in the mirror. Damn her long blonde hair and blue eyes all to hell. Her stupid pretty face had gotten her into more trouble in her life than was even fair. Now, she had a hardcore badass on her tail. Forget the wine and roses. He wasn’t the bad boy with a heart of gold she’d dreamed of meeting. In fact, he likely wasn’t the type to give a damn about a woman once he pinned her to the wall and got what he wanted.

Then there was the other problem. During their little body rub on the dance floor, she became all too aware that he was packing heat. Only cops and criminals carried guns into a club. He wouldn’t be a cop, not when wearing threads that cost more than the average cop’s monthly salary. Damn, she would just have to slip out the back. Coming tonight had been a shitty idea.

She peered out of the restroom door, noted the coast was clear, and quickly headed in the opposite direction. Down the long hallway, she could see a bright red exit sign. Pleased at her stroke of good luck, she headed directly towards it and hopefully freedom.

A large hand came out of nowhere and pulled her into a little alcove between offices. Before she could cry out, her back was against the wall and the handsome stranger had caged her in with his arms. She looked up to find a lopsided smile on his face.

For some reason, her throat closed up on her. How did he find her? He didn’t look angry. That was good. It felt like he was just giving her a moment to panic and move past it. Damn it all to bloody hell. She wasn’t nearly as scared as she should be. If she was being honest, she would admit to a tiny part of her being thrilled that he’d come after her.

The part of her brain not currently being controlled by her libido was screaming for her to run. Since that was the part of her brain apparently intent on ensuring she died an old maid with a hundred cats in a safe, but poorly decorated older Victorian style home, she promptly ignored it.

Instead, she chewed on her bottom lip as she felt her mouth pull into a satisfied little smirk. He’d pursued her and that could only mean one thing. Of all the women in the club, he wanted her. He was smoking hot and the lust in his eyes pulled her in like a moth to the flame.

“So, what do you have to say for yourself, little ‘Miss I’ll be Right Back’?” He was teasing. She could tell by the smile.

“You’re used to getting what you want from women, aren’t you?” she asked.

“Don’t answer my question with a question. It’s rude.” Still smiling, therefore still teasing.

Running her hands up his chest she gripped his lapels and jerked him forward until they were chest to chest. “What can I say? I like to be chased, you like to chase. I really don’t see a problem here.”

He brought one of her hands down to cover the huge bulge in his pants. “Funny, that feels like a problem to me.” Not smiling, therefore not teasing anymore. The man definitely wanted some action.

She gave him a slight squeeze before replying. “Umm…feels more like an opportunity to me.” Now it was her turn to tease.

“Hoped you were gonna say that.” His voice was husky and his eyes shuttered. He seemed to be slipping into some sort of lust-induced haze.

His hand came up under her short skirt and he ripped away her tiny lace panties as he inhaled the scent of her hair.

She glanced up at him.

He smirked “I know what you’re gonna say before you say it. It ain’t polite to rip off a woman’s panties before you give her a little kiss.” His words were a heady mixture of teasing and flirting with a thick overlay of lust.

She smiled ruefully at him before giving a short nod.

He slid to his knees mumbling, “A kiss it is then.”

His head literally disappeared beneath her full short skirt, and she could feel his fingers opening her and then his tongue gently gliding over her nub. God, what kind of man gets on his knees for a woman he doesn’t even know in a public place? Anyone could walk by and see him…see her…know what they were doing. Something about that sent a shiver up her spine as she opened her legs giving him more room. His tender ministerings were a cross between kisses, licks, and nips which culminated in him sucking her clit as his tongue teased her tender flesh. Just when she felt her legs begin to shake and a white-hot flame building in her core, he slipped back up her body.

“Not yet, Doll. I wanna feel that pretty little pussy wrapped around my cock when you come,” he informed her.

She nodded and wrapped one leg around his waist. How in the hell had she gotten so compliant? The little voices were battling it out in her mind. It sounded something like:

Voice One: Run…go get a cat and a floppy hat. Throw on some dark shades and hide from him.

Voice Two: Don’t be an idiot. This is the opportunity of a lifetime. Wrap your legs around this hot fool and ride him like a cowgirl…then listen to voice one.

Voice two was definitely the winner in that short self-styled debate. The internal dialogue faded away the moment his lips landed on hers. She could taste herself on him and it thrilled her. She heard the sound of his zipper opening and then felt the full length of him as he thrust forcibly into her.

“God, Doll, you’re tight. Don’t you fuckin’ have sex?”

“Not often enough,” she muttered.

His eyes came down to meet hers. A cocky grin spread across his handsome face. “We’ll have to see what we can do to fix that.”

It occurred to her to think he had been giving her a moment to adjust to his size. That was kind of sweet.

His voice sounded in her ear. “Ready?”

She nodded and he hammered into her with force and precision. Tilting his hips slightly with each thrust until he found her sweet spot. Once that happened, it was all over. He made sure to hit it every single time until she was hanging onto him, kissing his neck, and mewling her pleasure in his ear.

“Lorenzo’s the name, Doll. Now would be a great time to be hearin’ it.”

“God, Lorenzo. You need to stop. I can’t…take it.”

“Oh, you can baby. You’ll take me all night long.”

Grabbing her hands, he lifted them above her head and pounded into her so forcefully, her toes lifted off the floor with each thrust. Being helpless beneath him was so much like her fantasy, that she came apart instantaneously. A few short quick thrusts later and he jerked violently inside her as he emptied into her. Instead of pulling out, he leaned down resting his forehead against hers.

She saw a shadow of movement behind him. He must have sensed it as well because his body tensed. Before she could think or react, he was reaching inside his jacket. In a flash, she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was going for his gun. He pressed her back against the wall with his body. Was he protecting her or covering her nakedness? She couldn’t tell.

A masculine voice interrupted them. “Sorry, Boss, but we gotta go. The Irish are on the move.”

“Give me a minute.”

“Sure thing, boss.”

“And Gino…don’t ever walk up behind me like that again unless you want to eat a bullet. Are we clear?” Lorenzo demanded.

The man shifted uncomfortably and cleared his throat. “Yes, sir. I wasn’t thinkin’.”

“Name?” he questioned the woman in his arms.

“Cheryl Stallings.”

“Well, Cheryl Stallings. You’re coming with me.”

“Why in God’s name would I do that?”

“Because we’re not quite finished here. I don’t fuck nice girls like you against a goddamn wall then walk off and leave them. I’m not like that.”

She plucked the pen from his shirt pocket and shoved his sleeve up slightly before inking her phone number onto his skin. It was barely noticeable.

Looking up into his face she saw the lopsided grin was back.

“That number better not be to dial-a-prayer or anything like that, Doll,” he warned. She smiled up at him. “Give me more credit than that.”

He planted a small chaste kiss on her lips. “Thanks for the lift-off, Doll. I really needed that.”

“I’d say it was my pleasure, but you already know it was.”

“Don’t know about you, but it seems like we’re doing a lot of talking in and around the fuckin’. That usually don’t happen for me,” Lorenzo groused.

“The fucking or the talking? With your bedside manner, I can’t believe you get much opportunity to fuck, and you can barely conjugate your verbs so lots of talking doesn’t seem like your style either,” Cheryl stated.

He laughed as he rubbed a hand down his chest. “That just earned you a nice spanking.”

“Maybe later.”

“Definitely later,” Lorenzo promised her.

“We’ll see.”

His expression turned serious. One hand came out and landed on her mound. He squeezed her slightly through her skirt.

“Put a lock on that shit. It’s mine,” he ordered.

Shock tore through her as he gave her one final nod before walking away.

Reality came crashing in again. Shit, shit, shit, and double shit. Did she just hold her own with a freaking mobster? Who gets referred to as ‘boss’ in this city except for mob bosses? No one, that’s who. Panicking a bit, she took some deep breaths.

Good thing she didn’t give the sexy bastard her real last name or her actual phone number. Even in the thrill of the moment, she’d managed to sneak in some clear thinking. Rubbing her forehead, she decided to head home and never, ever come back to this godforsaken place.