by Krista Lakes
His Every Desire
Krista Lakes
Zirconia Publishing, Inc.
Contents
About This Book
Foreword
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Intermission One
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Intermission Two
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
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About the Author
Further reading
About This Book
“I'd do anything to please you...”
Paul Hayes is known as the most powerful billionaire in the board room. He's also known as the most powerful man in the bedroom as well. The tabloids have no lack of descriptions of his forceful and controlling behavior with women.
No woman spends more than one night with him. No woman knows how to keep him.
Tracy Collins is a down-on-her-luck waitress with big dreams. Dreams only a billionaire could make true, if only she knew what he wanted.
When a freak accident leaves Tracy with the power to enter a man's dreams, she finds out Mr. Hayes' secret.
He doesn't have a desire to control...
He desires to be controlled...
Tracy had looked up a lot of different knots this week, and she knew the best one to keep him completely fastened to the bed without cutting off circulation to his hands. When she finished, she smiled.
She slipped her shoes off and turned around. She slowly walked away from him, unbuttoning the dress shirt to her waitress outfit. Underneath it was the black lingerie she had carefully put on underneath. She checked herself one last time, wanting to make sure it looked completely perfect before she turned around for him to see it. It looked good, so she took the shirt off, turning around.
His eyes dilated as he saw the corset top, and he smiled as she began to undo her pants. She slowly worked them down, showing her black thong, garter belt, and stockings hiding underneath. This set of underwear had maxed out her last credit card with any money left on it, but by this point she was sure she had made the right choice. Her body filled out the lingerie in all the right ways, and she was sure she looked better in it than that skinny blonde bimbo at the restaurant would have.
She smiled, and did a little turn. "Do you like what you see?" she asked.
"Yeah! Come on over here and I'll show you," he said. All sounds of apprehension had left, and he was back to being the confident billionaire.
She smiled, and she knew it'd be her last smile for a few minutes. Again, she took a deep breath, then let it out, knowing there was no going back after this. "Really? Because I don't like what I see."
He frowned. "Oh, come on, you look great! I hate it when hot girls demean themselves. Now, come on over here."
She laughed, a fake laugh, almost cruel. "Oh, not me! I look great!" Tracy rubbed her hands down her body, accentuating her curves. "I was talking about you. I don't like what I see in you."
His smile vanished. "What?"
Tracy steeled herself. It was almost as if someone else was speaking through her body now. "Right now, I'm looking at something that disgusts me."
He looked shocked, and began to struggle against his bonds a little. "Hey, if this your idea of foreplay, then you're pretty weird."
She ignored him. "What I see is a helpless billionaire, tied to a bed, not in control at all. Just like he's a helpless billionaire, tied to a company, not in control at all."
He struggled more. "Look, Tracy, I think we've had a misunderstanding. Untie me and I'll take you back home. We'll forget this ever happened."
She felt like she might be losing control of the situation. She got to the foot of the bed, and touched his foot lightly. He relaxed a little bit.
"I think I know what you want, but I want to hear it from you," she said.
He looked flabbergasted. "What do you think I want? Why do you think I brought you to my bedroom?"
She got up on the bed, moving her hands up his legs. "What do you want?" she asked again.
He blinked, as if he couldn't believe he was being asked the question. "I want to fuck you, Tracy." He started to sound a little frantic.
She frowned and grabbed his legs hard. "You want to please me?"
He smiled and looked up at the ceiling, thinking that he finally caught on to the game. "Yes!" he said, sighing as he did so. He was starting to get worked up, unsure if he was about to be robbed, murdered, or have fantastic sex. "Yes, Tracy. Oh my god, yes, I could eat your pussy for days. I just want to please you."
"Really? Because I don't think you can please me," she said.
He got real quiet. Something inside of him had stirred, maybe déjà vu. He remembered the dream, she could tell. Suddenly the bulge in his pants grew in size, turned on by this woman in charge of him.
"That's right. I've known what you wanted all along," she said, and unzipped his pants. He moaned a little as his cock sprang free from his pants. His cock was long and thick, and Tracy was sure that he was used to giving women the ride of their lives. It explained quite a bit of his confidence, she thought. She began to get wet just thinking about lowering herself onto that beautiful cock, but she forced herself to snap out of it.
"What do you want?" she asked again.
That cocky grin was back. "I want to please you," he said. His voice was very serious.
"You'll never please me," she said, surprised that she had managed to get that line out as confidently as she had. The grin once again faded from Mr. Hayes' face. She grabbed onto his cock, holding it like she had in the dream. She didn't squeeze quite as hard as Dream Tracy had, but she was firm. He began to thrust into her hand, but she didn't do anything resembling a hand job to him.
"What do you want?" she asked once more.
"Oh God, Tracy, I want to fuck you. I want to please you. I'll do anything. Tell me what it is and I'll do it. Just let me do it."
She let go of his dick, and climbed on top of him, straddling him. His cock thrust in the air, questing, trying to get to her still clothed pussy. A few times, it brushed against her panties, and she wanted to gasp, but she knew she had to remain in control. With her hands on his chest, she said, "That's not what you want. I know what you want, and it's not for you to take over from here." She paused for effect, then asked him the question again. "What do you want?"
"I want you to take control," he said, shifting back and forth. His dick felt ready to explode, so hard behind her pussy and ass.
"You want me to take control of... what?" she said, leading him to what she wanted him to say, what she knew he wanted to say.
"I want you to take control of me!" he yelled.
"Good," she said, her pussy leaning up against his cock now. Only that last little bit of fabric was stopping him. She could have sex with him now, get plowed for her own release, and it might still fit with her plan...
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Foreword
Even though this book is definitely a little different from my other books, it will always have a special place in my heart. In August 2012, I wrote the first part, called The Woman of the Bi
llionaire's Dreams. I was in Tracy's shoes, and this was a piece of self-insertion fantasy. I had just failed out of medical school and was really searching for my place in life. One thing that I had that Tracy didn't have was a baby, an additional concern. Maybe Tracy could have opened a restaurant on her own, but I was stuck at home. My husband was working in a dead-end job and I couldn't even afford a babysitter to go get a job. Six figures of student loan debt is a terrible thing to deal with for anyone. This was the seventh book that I released under the pen name Cassandra Zara and the first that I brought over when I made the pen name Krista Lakes for romance. For a while it was my bestselling individual book. By the time I released part three, my student loans were paid off. Even though this book wasn't the one that landed me on the New York Times bestselling list, I had to finish this. I had to give Tracy her 'happily ever after'. After all, Tracy helped me get mine. :)
-Krista Lakes
Chapter 1
Tracy Collins sighed to herself. Another month had passed, another month she was stuck here, doing this crummy job. She looked at her surroundings. In a fancy restaurant like this, a waitress should be making at least minimum wage. If not for the tips, she’d probably have to declare bankruptcy.
What did I do to deserve this life? The thought haunted her, especially because she knew the exact reason she was stuck here. She had become too comfortable at medical school, maybe going to one too many late night trivia contests instead of slicing open cadavers. School and partying on top of working at this restaurant had caught up to her. Whatever the reason that she failed that last exam, she knew that she had nobody to blame but herself.
Now she was stuck with a gigantic student loan bill. Six figures wasn't even the start of it, and due to the insane laws regarding student loans in these United States, she'd never get rid of them. Just the thought of how long it would be before she could claw her way out of that debt was enough to bring her to tears sometimes.
She grabbed another set of napkins and sighed again. It didn't make her feel any better to have to clean up after a man who spent more money tonight than she could ever dream of. It was just more salt in the wound that was her life.
Tracy knew it wasn't his fault – Mr. Hayes was the consummate professional at all times. The blonde floozy he had brought to dinner, however, had spilled half a bottle of thousand-dollar wine on the two of them, giggling the whole time. She had watched Mr. Hayes laugh it off, but on the inside, Tracy knew that he was fuming, and that this was probably the blonde's last trip to this restaurant.
Of course, everyone in the restaurant knew all about Paul Hayes. Only a couple years older than Tracy, Mr. Hayes ran his own international company. Rumor had it that soon he would be one of the world's youngest self-made billionaires. The mere fact that he chose this restaurant over and over again put it on the map, with everyone from gawkers to businessmen wanting to get a shot at speaking to him.
He loved to throw money around, and he had to be in control. Every time he came in, he insisted that Tracy be his waitress. And why not? she thought. She was the smartest and most competent waitress in the whole restaurant, not to mention one of the prettiest.
He had often hinted, sometimes quite strongly, that Tracy could be one of his floozies if she wanted to be, but Tracy always smiled and easily managed to stop his advances. It’s not that she couldn’t do it, or even that she didn't want to hook up with the most alpha male in the entire city. It was a matter of being able to look at herself in the mirror every day.
And not only that, right now she knew she had the advantage of being a mystery. She had no idea what Mr. Hayes wanted. She knew that if she slept with him and didn’t give him exactly what he wanted, he would be done with her, and probably with this restaurant as well. As much as a one night stand with a man worth that much sounded like fun, she had to think of her financial well-being.
He was her biggest tipper and she couldn’t afford to trade the short-term high life for the long-term tip dollars that he could offer. It was a pragmatic decision which sometimes disgusted her, but she knew that everyone worked for someone else, and that she was no different than anyone else who made these types of decisions.
The thing he wanted had to be something that none of these girls would give him, since he was with a different girl almost every time he came in. It surely couldn't be anything that Tracy could offer him, though. She was prettier than average, sure, but nowhere near as hot as some of these girls. If she got a little more desperate for money, though, then perhaps…
She put the thought out of her mind, and finished closing down the restaurant. As she waved goodbye to her co-workers, she lost herself in ideas about how to make some fast money. Maybe she could start her own restaurant…
Lost in her own thoughts, she didn't even see the car barreling toward her. She didn't see him weaving, or hear the thunk of tires as he hit the curb before going back down on the street the first time. When she did happen to look up, she didn't even have time to scream as he hopped the curb to where she stood. Tracy tried to jump out of the way, but her head hit the car’s windshield and she tumbled over the top of the car. For a moment, she flew like an ungraceful bird before crash landing. She lost consciousness as she hit the sidewalk.
The driver never even slowed down to see if she was okay.
Chapter 2
Tracy woke up a few hours later, feeling as if she couldn’t move. She might as well have been immobile, with all the wires on her and the IV in her. A nurse was in the room with her, and soon a doctor came to visit her.
"Do you know how lucky you are, Tracy?" His tone was familiar, and she recognized him as one of her professors from medical school. Just one more reminder of my fuck ups, she thought.
"Please, tell me how lucky I am," she said sarcastically, tenderly poking at the bandage on her head with a finger.
He sighed. He clearly thought that this was all her fault. "You're bruised up pretty badly, but there's nothing broken. We were concerned about the head injury, but I think that even the scarring should go away pretty soon."
She groaned a curse. A nice, scarred up face was a great way to ensure that she'd get less tips. She poked at the bandage again, this time wincing at the sting from the pressure.
"Hey, don't do that," he snapped at her. Then he shook his head. "You've seriously got a guardian angel looking out for you."
She stared at the expensive medical equipment beeping around her. Someone paged a doctor overhead. This was a total nightmare.
"And how much is this guardian angel going to cost me?" she asked. Of course, she knew that the doctor had no idea. He didn't know she didn't have insurance. She had just been dropped from the school's health insurance and hadn't been able to afford any coverage since then.
"Well, we'll worry about that in the morning,” he said, trying to sound comforting. “For now, you need to get some rest."
"Please let the nurse know that I need my clothes and purse," Tracy said. "I can't stay here."
The doctor froze. "You have to stay here for observation tonight. With a head injury that severe, we have to make sure that-"
Tracy cut him off. "Unless you're paying for it, or unless you want to call the police to keep me here against my will, I'm leaving. I'm a waitress, and a night here will cost me weeks of salary. I cannot afford to stay here."
He sighed, then scribbled on his clipboard. She knew he was writing something like Patient Combative or Not Responsible for Injury or something like that. She didn't care. She just had to get out of there.
A long taxi ride (the price of which hurt her bruised pocketbook even more) brought her back home. She wondered how she would ever fall asleep being in as much pain as she was. But when the taxi dropped her off, she realized she could barely keep her eyes open. Must have been that pain medication they gave me, she thought.
She managed to get inside and lock the door before stumbling to her bedroom and falling into bed. Instantly asleep, she dreamed strange dreams for a
while, but eventually fell into a deep slumber.
Tracy called in sick, or rather injured, to work the next day, but she knew she couldn’t take much time off. She agreed to come back in on Friday and Saturday night to make up for it, and she knew she’d be doing that an awful lot over the next few months. Kiss my social life goodbye, she thought to herself. She did her best to just lay in bed for the next three days, only moving to get food or go to the bathroom. Her dreams got stranger and stranger while she avoided human contact.
On Friday night, she rousted herself out of bed, took some pain medication, and made it to work only fifteen minutes late. The manager, while mostly an uncaring prick, let it slide this one time, making it clear he thought he was doing her a huge favor. A great way to start the night, she thought.
She was mostly slow and stiff doing her job, but she could do it. All of her bruises were gone. She had pulled her stitches out this morning, taking great care to do it the way she had learned to do it in medical school. Still, she had a small scar that ran from the edge of her right eyebrow to the middle of her forehead. It wasn’t too noticeable, and, in fact, she thought it looked kind of cool. She had thrown a little blush on to mask it, but otherwise she didn’t think it hurt her appearance at all.
She was a little slow serving each of her first customers, but soon she was back into the swing of things, with just a little creak of pain here and there. At about eight, Mr. Hayes came in with a new young woman on his arm, a brunette who had a body to die for. Tracy showed the two of them to their table, and Mr. Hayes' date quickly excused herself to go to the bathroom while Tracy went to take the billionaire’s order.