Page 2 of Billionaire's Frenemy

Since my town car had already disappeared down Park Avenue, I cut through my building and headed down to the parking beneath it where my three cars were parked in my privateenclosure. In minutes, I was pulling up the ramp then out onto the street. Traffic was never good, even this late at night, but I was thankful I could more easily navigate through it than if it were daylight hours.

Navigating around the block, I headed toward the address Willow had sent. Pulling up to the club, I handed the doorman a couple hundreds and asked him to keep an eye on my car, making sure it stayed right where it was. When I got inside, Willow was sitting on a bench, her head leaning against the wall, her shoes in her hand.

“You okay?” I asked, kneeling in front of her.

“I got drunk and broke my shoe. Then I fell down in front of a gay Australian stripper, and Emerson spilled her fruity, sticky drink on my dress.” She was pouting, but she wasn’t crying, so I took that as a good sign she wasn’t that drunk.

I’d known her for a long time. And I knew a super-drunk Willow was a very tearful Willow.

“Come on,” I said, helping her to her feet. “Let me take you home.”

“Can we go to your place?” she asked, batting her lashes at me.

I scooped her into my arms and carried her to the door, claiming her mouth in a quick kiss.

“You’re the devil,” I told her, shaking my head as she giggled.

“And you love me,” she said.

“I’ve never said that,” I reminded her.

“You will, though,” she taunted. “Someday.”

The doorman opened the passenger door of my car, and I dumped her into the seat. Leaning inside over her, I kissed her again.

“That’s never going to happen, cupcake.” Then I shut her inside before she could respond.

I gave the doorman another hundred and a thank you then got behind the wheel and sped off toward my penthouse.

“How drunk are you?” I asked her as I pulled into my parking garage.

“Not very,” she promised.

“So, you’re of sound mind and body at the moment?”

She lifted a slim, tempting shoulder. “Um, mostly?”

Good enough for me.

We were barely through the front door when she jumped into my arms, wrapping her legs around my waist and throwing her weight forward so we fell back onto the sofa.

“We have to stop doing this,” I told her as I raised her skirt and ripped away the scrap of lace she apparently called panties. “I’m going to start thinking you’re ashamed of me.”

“I am ashamed of you,” she teased. “You’re my dirty little secret.”

“And you’re my dirty little hellhound.” I picked her up and flipped us, so I was lying over her on the couch. “My fucking gorgeous demon girl.”

“And you love me,” she said again.

“Never going to happen, sweetheart.” I pulled off my T-shirt then stood so I could kick off my jeans and shorts before jumping on her again.

I thrust forward, pushing completely inside her when she wrapped her thighs around me again. Her nails dug into my shoulders as she rocked with me, her breath coming in hard pants and her body shuddering.

Sliding my hand between us, I found her clit with my finger and pulsed over it while I fucked her, hard and fast. In moments, she was screaming out my name as she came, her nails digging rivets into my skin. My brain’s pleasure-and-pain center went haywire, and I came so hard I might have blacked out for a second.

I shifted us on the sofa, spooning behind her and pulling a blanket over us.

“So, I’m staying?” she asked through a yawn.

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