Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Gunner

I pace the floor of the hotel suite, stopping at the window and looking out over the bright lights of the city skyline. I’ve always been an honorable man. As decent as one can possibly be while maintaining his success in the world of finance. I don’t gamble, drink heavily or womanize and I keep my word. Yet here I am, waiting for an eighteen-year-old girl to arrive so I can pay her for sex.

Looking at my reflection in the window, I know damn well that paying Josie is the only way I’d ever get the privilege of having her beneath me. We’re old and young. Big and small. Coarse and smooth. Because of that, there is something comforting about the fact that I’ll be compensating her. When she arrives, I plan to outline our agreement in a clear, concise manner and that will help, too. Having a detailed understanding. A mutually beneficial venture is something I understand. Maybe after we’ve met privately a few times, I’ll stop feeling this sweaty, horny shame for wanting to ride a girl twenty-seven years my junior. Wanting to get my dick into her so bad, my briefs are twisted around the turgid flesh, my balls like two tight knots.

I’ve booked the presidential suite at the Fairbourne and the bed waits silently in the other room, taunting me. Am I really doing this? Am I really a sugar daddy now?

Ever since Josie came to my office and I came in my pants like a school boy, I’ve done some research and these arrangements are not unusual. In fact, they’re common for men of my ilk. That doesn’t make me feel any better. If anything, I feel worse.

Josie is the furthest thing from common. She’s bright and sharp and warm. Her laughter has always been a source of joy in my home. Her wit can match anyone. She’s always fussing over me, telling me I work too much. Bringing glasses of warm milk or herbal tea to my office when I’m working late and she’s hanging out with Paul.

Paul.

Jesus, how would I explain this to my son?

That I’m out of my mind with lust for his best friend since middle school. He would think I’m a sick motherfucker—and maybe I am. I barely made it twenty minutes after Josie sailed out of my office before I started making arrangements for the following night. I’ve been watching the clock, waiting for this. Aching. Jesus, the things she said to me. The way she tugged me off through my pants, her perky tits on unabashed display. I’ve never been so hard in my life, throat closing, palms sweating, spine in a vise. She owned me.

And afterward…

I’ve never wanted to hold someone so badly.

Josie has always been the breezy one. She has a quip and a wink for everyone. But she was vulnerable sitting there on my desk. She needed…

Christ, I can’t believe I’m even thinking this.

She needed her Papa.

She needed me to rock her against my chest and kiss her forehead. I’ve never had this kind of relationship with anyone, nor have I wanted one. Where I’m the father figure and the lover. With Josie…I don’t know. It feels inevitable. Feels right. Like something we both need very badly. I’ve regretted not rocking and soothing her since she left my office and I won’t have those same regrets after she leaves tonight.

Our plan was to meet at nine o’clock and there is still ten minutes to go.

I turn from the window, planning on pouring myself a drink, when my phone rings.

Work.

I’ve never let a work call go unanswered in my life. It’s how I’ve built an empire. And I’m not changing now, even if the board member’s name flashing on the screen of my phone causes something acidic to flare in my chest. I take the call and assuage the man’s concerns about the price of wheat skyrocketing in China due to a storm destroying forty percent of the country’s crops. I assure him that we’ve already maximized the potential of an investment—such is the cutthroat world of finance—and end the call with him calmed down. But by that time, there is a pounding in my temple. I toss my phone onto the closest surface and massage the throbbing spot, trying to remember the last time I wasn’t stressed—

There’s a knock at the door.

Every ounce of blood in my body rushes south, my mouth drying up.

I’m moving to the entrance before I acknowledge the command to my feet, trying to come up with something to say that won’t make me sound desperate. Even though I am. God, I just want to spread out on her hot, little body and pump the stress away. But when I open the door and see the beautiful blonde standing there in what amounts to sheer tights, a T-shirt and high heels, I can’t deny there is a throbbing in the center of my chest, too. A sweeping of relief and comfort mixed in with desire.

Josie purses her lips and cocks a hip. “You’re working, aren’t you?”

I clear my throat hard. “I took one call.”

And just like that, here I am answering to a teenage girl about my work habits.

Josie shakes her head at me and saunters forward, into the room, closing the door behind her. She tosses her purse onto the entry table, reaching up to loosen my tie and that sense of relief multiplies, the pounding in my temple slowly ebbing. “You have to leave the office where it belongs sometimes.” I open my mouth to speak, but she keeps going. “Yes, I know you have to be aware of what’s happening in every corner of the globe every second of the day, but you also have to care for yourself.” She throws my tie over her shoulder. “We need to realign these chakras. If you aren’t balanced in your personal life, your professional one will eventually teeter and topple. We can’t have that, can we?”

My lips are twitching.

Damn. When was the last time I smiled?

“My chakras,” I repeat, leaning back to look her over. Fuck. Now that she’s inside, I can see those black, see-through tights end just below the hem of her T-shirt. If she bent forward, those sweet curves of her buns would be right there for the taking—and oh, I plan to take.

Hard.

“Yes, your chakras.” Her expression is very solemn. Even a little worried. For me. “You can’t see what I see, Papa Bear.” Nimble fingers dance over my shoulders, digging into pressure points and massaging. “All this locked-up tension.”

Her fingers find a knot and I groan, “That’s what you’re here for, Josie.”

Is she blushing? This girl who seduced me in my office? “Yes, I am.” She chews on her luscious lip a moment. “But I was thinking…when was the last time you went out?”

“Out where? To eat? I had a business dinner earlier this week.”

“Let me rephrase. When was the last time you went out when it wasn’t work-related?”

I flip back through my mental calendar containing engagements from the last year and I can’t think of a single time I did anything if money wasn’t on the line. “I don’t know.”

Her blue eyes flicker with sympathy, then determination. “Come on.” She picks up her purse, hanging it on her shoulder. “Let’s go.”

“Josie.” Shaking my head, I catch the front of her T-shirt and haul her up against me. “No more of your cock teasing. I need to fuck you. Badly.”

“I know,” she breathes—and there’s that vulnerability again. It makes her look startlingly young. Innocent. A little girl in front of her Papa. “I…I…”

Following instinct, I fold her into my arms, shocked at the level of comfort I get out of holding her, offering her security. “What is it, baby?”

“I’m a little nervous about tonight. M-my first time,” she whispers into my throat. “Maybe if we go out for a while, I’ll quit wondering if I’ll be good enough. Or if I’ll be what you’re hoping for—”

I interrupt her with a sound of utter disbelief, leaning back to see if she’s joking. And…she’s not. She’s actually serious. “Are you forgetting you made me come in my pants at the office?”

“No.” A hint of a proud smile dances across her lips. “I’ll never forget. But talking…a big game is what I’m best at. You know? Flaunting and flirting. I’ve never had to deliver.” She runs her hands up my chest and releases an uneven breath, her eyes going a little hazy. “I really, really want to deliver, I’m just…”

“You need foreplay.”

Inhaling the scent from my shirt collar, she nods. “I think so, yes.” Her body presses to mine and I indulge the insistent need to envelop her in a hug, rocking her side to side in her big girl tights and high heels, ignoring the agonizing pain between my legs. I give this girl what she needs. I’m her…Papa. It’s getting easier and easier to think in those terms. The dynamic between us is slightly twisted and a whole lot intoxicating. Do I want to carry her into the bedroom and bang her rotten on that extra-large bed? Yes. Fuck yes. I want to look into her big blue eyes and watch them widen when I pop her cherry.

But I’m also driven to provide what she needs. And if she needs time to calm her nerves, there is no way I’m going to deny her, no matter what my body wants.

“You’re not old enough to go to a bar,” I say dryly, combing my fingers through her long, icy-blonde hair. “Where do you propose we go?”

She leans back and gives me a dazzling smile that sends my heart flying up into my throat. “I know the perfect place.”

* * *

Josie

Oh my God, he is so hot.

Does he know I get wetter every time he adjusts his belt buckle?

Standing outside Wonderbluss, I call myself nine kinds of crazy for wanting to leave the hotel room. He could be on top of me right now, pressing me down with his full, delicious weight, taking his male relief with my body. I could be giving myself to him. Completely. My body would finally belong to Gunner, joining the heart he claimed a long time ago.

But I meant what I said. I’m nervous.

I spent all day trying on outfits and binging espresso. Lotioning. Pacing.

Gunner is a powerful man. I’m a virgin with a fast mouth.

What if I’ve oversold myself and then I underdeliver?

What if, in the end, he only wants sex from me and breaks my heart?

What if—

“What is this place?” Gunner asks, opening the door for me.

“Oh, um…” Grateful for the cool, dark interior of the establishment, I rein in my wayward thoughts. “It’s a series of rooms with art installations for adults. It’s meant to stimulate the senses.” We stop in front of a black, floor-to-ceiling velvet curtain and Gunner pays the indifferent man at the front desk. A moment later, we enter the broad, pitch-black hallway and I thread my fingers through Gunner’s, giggling over the skepticism I can feel radiating from his big body. “Pick a door. Trust me.”

We stop in the middle of the empty hallway and he scans the series of doors, each of them painted in a different neon color. “Is this your way of balancing my chakras?”

I give him an impish grin. “It’s a start.”

Clearly still dubious, he tips his chin at the orange door. “That one, I guess.”

“Don’t sound so nervous,” I laugh, towing him in that direction. “It’s perfectly safe. They discontinued the interactive piranha exhibit.”

He does a double take. “What?”

“Only kidding.” I smirk at him as I pry open the door and pull him inside—and we come to a halt underneath the thousands of black lightbulbs hanging from the ceiling. They pulse in a slow rhythm, the low sounds of a heartbeat pumping from an unseen source. “What do you think? I’ve been here a couple of times, but they change the installations monthly.”

When he doesn’t answer, I glance upward to find him looking down at me. “You’re all lit up,” he murmurs thickly, tugging on my hand and positioning me in front of him, one of those thick forearms wrapping around the front of my hips, his steady breath on the crown of my head. And I am, indeed, all lit up, the blacklights making the material of my T-shirt glow. “I was thinking about what you said before. About talking a big game, but not having to deliver.”

I swallow hard. “Yeah?”

“Is that how it’s always been?”

My head drops back against his chest and we sway beneath the lightbulbs. “Yes, actually,” I say slowly, considering the question. “The night before my first day of kindergarten, I was so nervous. I couldn’t sleep, my stomach was tied up in knots. Back then, my grandmother was living with us. She used to be a movie star—did you know that?”

“I didn’t,” he says warmly. “You must have her genes.”

“I like to think so,” I murmur, tilting my head to one side so he can kiss my temple, my cheek. “She told me the secret to success is faking it until you make it. Walk in like you own the place, kiddo, and everyone will believe it. That’s what she told me and I’ve never forgotten.” I turn in Gunner’s arms, locking my wrists behind his neck. “That method has always worked for me. Until tonight. You make me feel…exposed. And I can’t hide that.”

“I don’t want you to.” His big hand slides down my back, his thumb digging into the base of my spine, dragging upward until I moan, pressing against him on my tiptoes. “You’re supposed to expose yourself to me. I’m supposed to make you feel safe enough to do that. I don’t know how I’m so aware of…these roles we need to play for each other, but they feel…”

“Natural,” I supply, breathless.

“Yes,” he says hoarsely, dragging his bottom lip through his teeth. Clearly wanting to devour me, but holding himself back. Waiting for me to be ready. “You pick the next room.”

Barely stopping myself from wrapping my legs around his hips and demanding to be taken back to the hotel, I kiss Gunner’s stubbled chin softly and guide him out of the room, pulling him down the hallway to a door painted white. Gunner opens the door for me and I gasp at the beauty before me. Cherry trees bloom everywhere. Of course, they’re not real, but they look entirely genuine. Giant fans are mounted to the ceiling, blowing the branches, giving the effect of standing on a hillside in Japan in the springtime. Pink and white petals blow off the trees and circle the air, landing in my hair, on Gunner’s shoulders.

“I bet you’re not thinking about work right now,” I whisper out of deference to the peaceful atmosphere, finding my spot in Gunner’s arms so I can witness his appreciation for the exhibit up close.

“You’re right,” he says, a groove forming between his brows as he observes the blowing trees, then looks down at me, his gaze running a lap around my face. “Work is the furthest thing from my mind right now.”

A triumphant smile spreads across my face and he curses.

“Jesus Christ, you are so damn beautiful,” he grunts, shaking his head and laughing without humor. “I’m glad no one else is here. They’d wonder what the hell you’re doing with me.”

My smile fades as rapidly as it appeared, the walls of my throat constricting. “What? No they wouldn’t. Why would you say that?”

“Come on, Josie.” He slides his hand up beneath my long T-shirt, gripping my backside roughly. “The only way a man like me gets to tap this is if he’s paying for it.”

“A man like you? What does that mean?”

With an impatient sound, Gunner leads me out of the room. I jog along behind him feeling numb, anxious for an explanation. In the hallway, we stop outside of a red door. But instead of entering, he turns to look down at me, clearly trying to find the right words. Impatient with himself. “You don’t need to hear my shit.”

“I want to.” I take his hand and press the palm to my cheek. “Talk to me.”

Gunner hedges a moment. “You know I haven’t been with anyone. Since the divorce.” He rolls a thick shoulder. “A lot of that was because of work. Because I didn’t meet anyone that interested me. But, uh…the divorce had a lot to do with it, too. Paul’s mother and I weren’t a great match. We didn’t have the same interests, but we came from money. It was more for status than anything. When she left, though…it was because of…” He nods down at his midsection. “The way I look. Big and bulky. Not lean like the tennis player husbands at the country club.”

I’ve only met Paul’s mother on a handful of occasions and I’m pretty sure I was too overcome with jealousy that she’d been married to Gunner to pay much attention. Right now, I’d like to stomp on her instep and bust her stupid nose, though. That much I know. “Well, I’m sorry, but that’s really horrible and shallow,” I say, my own nose starting to burn out of outrage and the need to cry for this man who provides for everyone without complaint. “That’s more of a reflection of her character than you.” He gives me an appreciative look, but clearly doesn’t believe me, so I swing for the fences because there’s no way my sugar daddy is going to feel anything less than amazing when he’s with me. I can’t believe he doesn’t know how desirable he is. “Listen to me. You’re sexy as shit. That thing you do…where you roll up your sleeves and plant both fists on the kitchen counter, the way you manspread in your swim trunks with those log-cabin thighs. That gray and black chest hair. Like, oh my god.” I bite my lip and give a low squeal, tugging him toward me by the front of his shirt. “I’ve been wanting to ride the Gunner train since it was highly illegal.”

His chest has started to heave. “Did you now?”

Contritely, I duck my head and look up at him through my lashes. “Uh-huh.” I rake my breasts side to side against his chest, his rumble vibrating my stiff nipples. “And I still don’t really know what it means to ride the Gunner train. You have to teach me, Papa.”

Gunner yanks open the red door and pulls me inside, closing us in. “I don’t know if you’re saying this stuff because you know you’ll be well paid or if you really mean it,” he says, backing me against the door. His mouth on top of mine as he reaches down, roughly cupping my sex through my panties. Groping me. Massaging. “Either way, it makes my cock hard, doesn’t it?”

“I mean it. Everything,” I moan, breaking off on a gasp when Gunner’s middle finger tugs aside the crotch of my underwear and enters me, pumping in and out of the dampness.

“Going to fuck this little wet gash, baby,” he growls in my ear, biting the lobe and tugging. “Going to rail it like a dog.”

I’m so overcome by heat, by lust for this man, all I can do is nod, brain scrambled.

“Fifty grand a week. A penthouse. A Rolls. Diamonds.” He pushes deep with his fingers and looks me in the eye, teeth bared. “Any damn thing you want. You just keep this pussy for Papa, are we clear?”

“Yes,” I whimper, pressing into his hand, arching my back. “Just for Papa.”

You’re all I want. All I’ll ever want for the rest of my life.

I want to say those things to him so badly, but he’s not ready to think of me as his equal. His significant other. I need more time to make him understand we could work. That we’re supposed to be together and there’s no use fighting it. That the money is secondary to what I feel for him. What I’ve always felt.

“That’s a good little girl,” he says, licking up the side of my neck. “Now I’m going to take you back to the hotel so you can squirm that tight teenage cunt all over my face.”

My knees lose control and I drop, but Gunner catches me, throwing my limp body over his shoulder without missing a beat and stomping out of the red room. Before the door can close, I glimpse the art installation. It’s a pitch black room with, “The truth will set you free,” written on the wall in strips of LED lights. Blinking.

And I take it as a sign. That I should confess everything to Gunner.

That I’ve loved him since middle school.

That my family is broke and his money will put me through college. If I tell him that, though, he’ll never believe my feelings are real. He’ll believe my claims that he’s sexy even less. Won’t he?

No, I can convince him. The truth is always the best policy.

But before I can work up the nerve, Gunner is walking into the lobby of the hotel and storming the elevator, punching in a special code to bring us to the top floor. His mouth is on mine, ravenous, and I can think of nothing, nothing, but the moments ahead…