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I started my day with one girl riding my dick and another riding my face. Life was good, but when you’re a six-foot-four ice hockey goalie, born to insanely wealthy parents, life is always good. The two girls this morning were attractive, as they always are, but neither of them had my dick as hard as the little pink pocket rocket who just stormed away from me. Do you believe in love at first sight? How about desperate to fuck at first sight? Because that’s exactly how I feel about the little troublemaker I just saved from the group of rowdy guys across the bar.

When I was flirting with her friend, Valerie, Malorie, or whatever the fuck her name was, I could tell she was distracted, and I can’t say I blame her, because the second I glanced across the bar and caught sight of the fiery little ice queen, I was fucking distracted too. Valerie fed me some bullshit about her friend not getting out often, and not being used to guys, but I was barely even listening, and when she said she needed to save her, I took my chance. I was across the floor and stealing her from the bunch of frat guys hitting on her before Valerie could even protest, and fuck was she even better up close. All thick thighs and bad attitude, with the best rack I have ever laid my fucking eyes on. I can just imagine my cock plunging between those two perfect, pale pillows of wonder.

To think I almost walked right past this shitty little bar, but I was too desperate for a drink to keep on looking for somewhere better. I was at one of my parents’ penthouses around the corner, rubbing shoulders with all of my father’s so-called friends during a business dinner, but there are only so many times I can answer bullshit questions about what I’m going to do when I graduate this year. Most of them don’t see ice hockey as a worthy career, and it gets tiring defending it while also having their wives, who happen to be twenty years their junior, hitting on me.

It’s always the same. The same people, the same conversation, and I’m so fucking over the whole scene. It’s why I don’t come home for the holidays anymore, and keep my visits to a minimum, because as much as I love my parents, I don’t love their fucking world, no matter how many privileges it affords me. None of the men there tonight care about the fact that hockey is something I am passionate about, no, the only thing they care about is making their wallets as big as their bellies. Which is ironic, since I have been richer than all of them for the last three years now, but when talk turned to their children and the lives they had planned out for them, I had to get out of there.

I knew my parents would understand, they aren’t like them, so I bailed and found myself here, and fuck am I glad I did. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have been blessed with her fucking beauty. She looks fucking perfect in her blush-colored little dress, and bows that give her an air of innocence, yet she glared at me like she would rather set me on fire than talk to me, and just like that I was hooked. There is just something about a girl being mean to me that gets my dick hard, especially when I am used to them throwing themselves at me.

My eyes trail after her as she storms from the bar, leaving her friend to rush and catch up, and fuck me, I don’t think I have ever seen an ass so plump and perfect. Half the fucking bar watches her leave while she is distracted by her phone, as Valerie laps up the attention that is so clearly not meant for her, and I grind my teeth in irritation. Downing my drink, I will my fucking cock to relax at her retreating form, but it’s no use. I can still feel the perfect weight of her as I tossed her over my shoulder, and how perfectly she molded against me when she slid down my body as I put her back to the floor.

Fuck .

My cock is begging me to chase after her, and as soon as she is out of the door, I turn back to the bartender and toss a few hundred dollar bills on the bar top, to cover my drinks along with a healthy tip. Then I am moving, stalking after her before I can stop myself, but just as I make it through the door, my eyes lock with hers, as the cab she is sitting in whisks her away from me.

Double fuck.

I start weighing up my options, which are almost slim to none considering I didn’t even catch her name, but nothing is impossible, not with my net worth. Turning on my heel, I head back inside the bar and let my eyes scan the space more thoroughly than I did before, not settling anywhere, until I find the opening that no doubt leads to a back office. I’m already storming towards it before anyone can spot me, let alone stop me, and when I reach a door marked ‘private’ I push inside. I find a middle-aged man with a rounded belly, sitting behind an old wooden desk, pouring over a stack of papers.

“How much for tonight’s security footage?” I ask by way of greeting, not wasting time on niceties, and his furrowed brow meets my expectant glare in confusion.

“Get the fuck out of here, kid,” he spits in response, and I almost roll my eyes. At my size, no one has called me a fucking kid in almost a decade.

“The footage, how much?” I repeat, my tone more pressing, and he huffs in annoyance at me interrupting his night.

“Not for sale, now get the fuck out.” He waves his hand towards the door behind me to exaggerate his point, and I feel my own irritation rising.

“Everything is for sale, you just have to know the right price,” I reply, moving towards his desk and pulling a thousand dollars from my wallet, holding the bills between my fingers.

The man finally leans back in his chair, assessing me more closely than before, and I know the moment he sees it, the power I hold. The one that runs just below the surface of my skin that I learned to wield when I was still a child, and have continued to use against people ever since. Having money doesn’t make me better than others, but knowing how to wield the power it affords me does. Not everyone can be rich, but they can be smart, I just so happen to be both.

When he doesn’t say anything in response, I pull out another thousand dollars and drop all the bills onto his desk, noting the red-marked overdue letters that litter the top. He grabs at them like a rat snatching up the crumbs of someone's leftovers, and I grimace at the ugly display, my patience slowly fraying.

“The tape,” I snap, and he quickly scrambles to his monitor in the corner, clicking a few buttons before ejecting a small disc and giving it to me, no questions asked. “Pleasure doing business with you,” I add, already tucking the disc into my pocket and walking firmly out the door, not missing the underhanded curse he tosses at my back that makes me smirk.

A few girls try to catch my eye on the way out of the bar, but I barely spare them a glance. No one could hold a candle to the little troublemaker I just dropped two grand on, so why even bother. Once I’m back outside I hail down a cab and pull out my phone as I move to climb inside, giving the driver the address to my parent’s penthouse, as my own personal hacker and assistant answers my call.

“What trouble did you get yourself into now, rich boy?” She drawls down the line, not bothering to say hello, and I can’t help but smirk.

“None that you wouldn’t be able to get me out of my dear Duchess,” I reply, and I can almost hear her rolling her eyes at me.

Duchess, for lack of a better word, is a bitch, but she’s also a fucking genius, and for some reason though she might deny it, she happens to like me and all my fucking debauchery. I call her for anything and everything, and pay her handsomely for it. There isn’t a place she can’t get into, or a stone she can’t uncover, and I probably could have got her to just hack the footage rather than pay for it, but that would only take extra time I am not willing to give.

“First, I need you to buy a shitty little bar downtown called,” I trail off as I look at the name of the bar before the driver pulls away. “Frankie’s.” She makes a scoffed noise at the name, but I hear her tapping away on her keyboard as she instantly starts to deal with my first request. I’m not sentimental or anything, but the need to buy the bar where I first saw the mystery girl is overwhelming, and well, what else would I do with my endless supply of money?

“It will be done by the morning, what else?” She asks, still tapping, and I look down at the disc in my pocket, as a fresh wave of arousal courses through me at the thought of the girl I bought it for.

“I’m going to send you some footage when I get home, I need you to track someone from it, a girl,” I tell her, and this time her scoff is even longer.

“Of course you do,” she mumbles, no doubt once again rolling her eyes at me. “Name,” she demands in exasperation, more than used to my antics and bullshit, though I have never gone this far.

“Probably something perfect for me to moan,” I toss back without thinking, and she groans, as the cab driver's eyes meet mine in the mirror.

“No name, Okay, where do they live?”

“I haven’t a clue.”

“Have they been to the bar before?”

“I don’t know.”

Her sigh is resigned, and I can almost see her leaning back in her chair like the man from inside the bar. “What the fuck do you know, Alexander?”

“That my cock will look amazing between her perfect tits,” I toss back, and I just know she is infuriated by me, just like every other day.

“You know you’re a rich, misogynistic pig, right?” She asks, as outraged by me as she usually is, and my grin only widens.

“Of course I know, now do we have a deal?” Another scoff at my question, because not once has she ever refused anything I asked of her, and she knows it.

“Just do me a favor and send me the footage before you jerk off to it, you fucking creep.”

“I can’t make any promises,” I tease, and she disconnects the call in response, ignoring my laughter, as I focus back on the road.

When I make it back to the penthouse the party has thankfully dissipated, so I grab myself a bottle of water and make my way toward the stairs to head to my room, when I am cut off in my tracks.

“Alexander, is that you, son?” My dad calls from his office, and I pause on the threshold with a sigh, before turning on my heels and heading to his office.

My father, Parker Reign, is CEO of one of America’s top technology firms, PRT, a company he founded when he was just a little older than I am, which catapulted him into the land of billionaires within just two years. At the same time he was traveling around Europe, wooing clients and winning investments, which is how he met my mother. Sinclair Reign, then known as Sinclair Striker, was a famous British supermodel back in her day, and it was pretty much love at first sight for the both of them. They’ve been happily married for twenty-five years, and as their only son, I know they love me more than anything, but you can’t run an empire and always be an emotionally available parent.

When I reach my dad’s office I find exactly what I expect, my father sitting behind his desk, with his reading glasses perched on the end of his nose, as he stares down at his computer screen. It doesn’t matter where we are in the world, or what house we are staying in, it’s always the same sight, and I can’t help but smile at the familiarity of it.

“You ducked out early,” he muses, and I can feel his knowing stare watching me.

“You know I hate those bullshit dinner parties,” I grumble, as I lean against the doorframe.

“Don’t let your mother hear you say that,” he laughs, wiping a hand down his face before he continues, “Besides you know those dinners are good for business.”

Now it’s my turn to scoff. “Please, I am richer than every man who attended tonight combined, why the fuck would I need their business?”

My father only smirks, that prideful look that is always present in his stare, shining a little brighter than normal at my response, before he asks, “Are you heading back to campus tomorrow?”

I nod, finally meeting his gaze. “Yeah, Coach wants us back early so we can go over our training schedule to get ready for regionals.”

“Ah, that’s right, you’ve got the Frozen Four coming up soon,” my father replies with a nod, already knowing this information, because despite always being busy with work, he still always knows what’s going on with my life.

“If we make it through,” I start, knowing our place isn’t guaranteed, not yet anyway, but my father cuts me off.

“Alexander, I’ve seen your team play, there is no question you are making it through, especially with Nova at the helm.” His tone is all business, and I can’t help but smile.

My father is the kind of CEO who knows everyone’s name. From the people who line his boardroom, to the ones who clean his offices, and I’ve always admired that about him. He hasn’t even met half of my team, but if I’ve mentioned them, then he remembers them, and their position, and I love him for taking an interest, even when he has barely seen me play.

Ice hockey is something I picked up as part of my required sport option at the first boarding school I attended, but I quickly grew to love it, and though my father has never understood my love for the game, he has always supported it.

“Yeah, he’s a great captain,” I reply, before quickly adding, “We do have a great team this year, I think our chances are better than they ever have been,” I add, and he only nods.

“Good, now get to bed, your mother wants to cook you breakfast before you leave tomorrow.”

“Cook?” I ask, raising my eyebrows, and he laughs.

“Okay, she wants to serve you breakfast that Glinda will make for you,” he switches up, and I laugh. Glinda is our housekeeper, and an amazing chef, but despite her best efforts, her talents have never rubbed off on my mother, and I love her, I do, but I don’t love burnt bacon.

“Sounds great, catch you in the morning.”

When I finally get to my room, I strip out of my suit and take a quick shower, checking on my investment portfolio before uploading the security footage I paid for onto my screen. Then I watch on repeat as I rescue the little pink pocket rocket, her eyes flaring wide with annoyance as I toss her over my shoulder and carry her back to her friend. My stare is transfixed on the wide set of her hips, and how her dress clings to her ample chest. Fuck. She’s even better than I remember, and my cock thickens in my sweats at the sight of her.

I have to find her.

I don’t know how, or when, or even where, but as I wrap my hand around my cock and begin to stroke myself to the sight of her, I know one thing for sure. I’m going to hunt her down and make her mine.

Watch your back, trouble, I’m coming for you, in more ways than one.