BULKY

JESSA KANE

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 CONTENTS

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Epilogue

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 CHAPTER ONE

Josie

I stretch my right leg out and hook it around my best friend, Paul, stamping
it down on the red spot, giggling when my arms start shaking from holding
myself in place too long. We’re in his den playing Twister on Friday night,
as we’ve done so many times growing up. Since I met Paul in seventh
grade, his house has been my second home. Three of our other friends are
sprawled out on the couch, cheering us on, one of them absently flipping
through the television until finally landing on Love It or List It.
“List it, dude!” Paul yells at the television—which he is watching
upside down through his legs. I’m getting ready to disrupt his balance by
bumping him with my hip when the front door of the house opens and
closes briskly. And I lose my balance instead.
Seven o’clock on the dot. Every time.
It’s him.
Outwardly, I try not to show a reaction, but on the inside I’m rattling
like a rickety wooden roller coaster and my stomach has been left at the top
of the steep drop.
Paul’s father is home.
Gunner Kraft.
He passes by the opening of the den and glances in briefly, smirking
when he spies me collapsed on the Twister mat beside his laughing son. He
doesn’t stop walking on his way to the kitchen, so I only get a few seconds
to soak him in. Really, there will never be enough time to absorb his big,
bulky body. Those shoulders. He’s hard and thick and impenetrable.
Everywhere.
At Paul’s birthday party a few months ago—both me and my best friend
are eighteen—Gunner came swimming with us in the backyard and I almost
hyperventilated. My knees shook beneath the water at the sight of his salt
and pepper chest hair, the round slab of his stomach.
And when the water molded his swim trunks to his lap, the enormous
ridge between his thighs made my belly so ticklish, I turned so red everyone
thought I had a sunburn.
Gunner’s father is forty-five. A single-father divorcee.
I’m eighteen.
I’ve been in love with him, roughly, since I was twelve.
No one compares. What Gunner does to me in my dreams is more
satisfying than what any boy could hope to accomplish in real life, so I
don’t even bother with them. College starts in a month and I’m already
positive that none of the boys there will measure up, either.
At the reminder of college—namely, the tuition being due—my
stomach groans and I roll to my feet, pasting a breezy smile on my face.
“I’m going to go grab another slice of pizza from the kitchen.” I tuck my
white-blonde hair behind my ears. “Anyone want one?”
They’re all too busy shouting at HGTV to pay me any attention.
That’s just fine with me, because I have to get my fix.
On the way to the kitchen, I tug my skirt a little higher and knot my tank
top under my breasts. I put on a flirtatious smile. It’s kind of what I’m
known for—being a flirt. A tease. Lately, it has been my body armor, so no
one looks too deep. God forbid they find out I’m not really one of them.
That I’m just pretending. Treading water. The flirting makes them roll their
eyes and laugh, not take me too seriously. Every recent high school
graduate in the den is filthy rich and I used to be among their ranks. If I can
help it, they’ll never know how far I’ve fallen.
None of that is important right now, though.
There’s only Gunner. Getting a little glimpse of what I can’t have.
Pretending he’s mine for just a moment, like I always do.
When I walk into the designer chef’s kitchen, Gunner has a serious
expression on his stoic face, frowning down at a pile of documents spread
on the kitchen counter. His thick stomach is pressed to the edge, those
meaty fingers leafing through the pile. At the mere closeness of him, my
nipples turn to little peaks, skin prickling and heating.
“Mister Kraft,” I say, pouting, trailing a finger down the wall of the
archway. “Don’t you ever stop working?”
“No,” he says dryly, without looking up. “Hello Josie. How are you?”
“Better now that you’re here.” I swagger over to the counter where he’s
standing, propping a hip on the low cabinetry. “I always feel a little safer
when you’re home.”
He cuts me a brief look, but he doesn’t bite any of the eye candy I’m
offering.
Of course he doesn’t.
To him, I’m still a twelve-year-old with braces.
“You’re safe even when I’m not here. The alarm system is engaged and
the gate is electrified,” he says absently, flipping a paper and scrutinizing
the contents. “How is your father?”
Broke.
Destitute.
Lying to everyone.
“He’s well. He said to say hello.” That’s a lie. My father is barely
present enough to acknowledge me these days, most of his time spent on
the phone arguing with creditors. Maybe it’s the reminder that my college
tuition money has been squandered that makes me feel a little reckless
tonight. Normally, I would flirt a little with Gunner and he would send me
back to the kids’ room with a proverbial pat on the head. But I want to be
distracted from what’s happening in my life. I want the comfort of his arms,
now more than ever—and that is saying something, because I’ve been all
twisted in knots over this man since puberty.
I wet my lips and allow my pulse to trip over itself, then I slide in
between Gunner and the kitchen counter, the fly of his expensive dress
pants dragging across my bare stomach.
Immediately, I’m pinned by that gray, hooded gaze. The one that made
him a billionaire many times over in the finance world. It’s ruthless. Sharp.
It almost makes me lose my nerve. But I don’t. I hold onto my courage and
reach up to loosen his burgundy tie. “You can’t work so hard all the time,
Papa Bear,” I murmur, using the nickname I’ve been using since middle
school. It’s been a while since I said it out loud. It’s so fitting, though, for
this big bear of a man. “You have to have a little fun sometimes, don’t you
think?”
“Josie…” His tone holds a stern warning. “What are you doing?”
I succeed in taking off his tie, then trail the silk down between my
breasts, finally—finally—drawing his eye there. A muscle jumps in his
cheek when I arch my back a little. “Just having some fun,” I whisper,
dropping the tie in favor of sliding my hands up the front of his starched,
white button-down shirt. “I hate seeing you so stressed.”
This I’m not lying about. At all.
Gunner works seven days a week. Never takes a break, unless it’s his
son’s birthday.
I am worried about his stress level. It’s not just a ruse to get closer.
He has always been a steady presence in my life and I care about him. A
lot.
“I’m fine, Josie,” Gunner says through his teeth. “And you shouldn’t be
standing so close to me. Your hands shouldn’t be—”
He breaks off when I pop open one of his buttons. “Oops,” I say,
blinking innocently. “Bet you feel better already without this thing buttoned
all the way to your throat. Don’t you ever wear a T-shirt?”
“Don’t you ever wear a skirt that covers your tight little teenage ass?”
Gunner poses the question in a rush—and immediately regrets it, closing
his eyes and shaking his head. “I shouldn’t have asked you that. What you
wear is none of my business.”
I can barely breathe. “But you…noticed. You notice what I wear? I can
never tell—”
“This whole conversation is goddamn inappropriate.” With a jerky
movement, he rebuttons the top of his shirt. “Go back to the den. Now.”
Well aware that my window of opportunity is shrinking by the second, I
disobey him, hopping up and backwards onto the counter, gratified beyond
words when Gunner watches my breasts bounce, his throat working in a
rough pattern when I inch my thighs open, just a little. Just enough that he
can see the pink lace of my thong. “I’m having a better time right here with
you.” I lean back on my hands and shift my right knee side to side, hiding
my panties from him, showing them, hiding. “Aren’t you having a good
time with me, Papa Bear?”
“No,” he growls.
Now who’s lying?
 We both look down at the same time, at his colossal erection, then back
at each other.
“That doesn’t mean I want to…” He drags a hand down his face and
shoves my legs together with determination, his touch shooting electricity
all the way up my thighs. “I just haven’t been with a woman since the
divorce. After a decade, it’s a normal reaction to being…”
“Tempted?” I lean forward, taking the lapels of his shirt in my hands,
pulling him closer despite his resistance. Despite the way he growls my
name in that low, warning manner. And I settle my mouth over the top of
his hard lips. Inhaling. Exhaling. “Are you tempted?”
He shakes his head, but those lips come back to mine, not kissing me,
but making my heart rejoice nonetheless. “You’re my son’s friend, Josie.
Less than half my age. I golf with your father, for godsakes.” Too briefly, he
squeezes my knees, letting his thumb brush along the sensitive insides.
Slightly higher to my inner thighs. With a shaky curse, he backs away
abruptly, using his pocket square to dab at the sweat on his forehead. “I
don’t know what has gotten into you, little girl. But it ends now. You stay
where you belong—with your friends.”
I should be disappointed, but I’m not.
He slipped. Finally. He admitted he notices me. He let our mouths
touch. Stroked my thighs. This might have gone further if it wasn’t for his
notorious restraint. I’m almost trembling with euphoria at this development.
Wishing I would have pushed a little sooner. Wishing I had talked myself
into being brave. This man I love so fiercely…he’s tempted. Attracted.
He’s also just thrown up a forty-foot wall between us.
I’ve never been so determined to climb it. To reveal my love. My
devotion.
Eventually. When he’s not ready to throw me out of his kitchen.
With more confidence than I had upon entering the dim room, I slide off
the counter, letting my skirt drag up all the way to my hips, reveling in the
way he stifles a groan, using the pocket square on the back of his thick neck
now. Keeping eye contact with my best friend’s father, I bite my lip and
peel the lacy pink thong down my legs, stepping out of it. Dangling it from
my index finger and giving him a few seconds to look at me there. Naked.
Impressing upon him that I’m a grown woman now. With an itty bitty
landing strip.
 “Jesus Christ,” he rasps, starting to twist away—but he can’t. Not
completely. Half turned, his eyes remain glued to the juncture of my thighs,
his tongue coming out to wet those perfectly-matured lips, surrounded by a
gray and black five o’clock shadow.
Slowly, I close the distance between us, tucking the panties into
Gunner’s pocket while his barrel chest heaves, faster and faster. “I can be
your secret, Papa,” I whisper, gently dragging my middle finger down,
along the stiff spear of his erection. “Think about it.”
“It’s not happening, Josie,” he grinds out, yanking my skirt down, back
into place. “Go.”
He moves to the other side of the kitchen where he plants his hands on
the counter, dropping his head forward. Moonlight streams in through the
closest window, bathing him in white light and my heart races, clenching
and releasing with yearning. To be in his arms. To have him surround me
with that big, safe body and tell me everything will be okay.
Because I desperately need someone to tell me that right now.
Not only has my infatuation just told me, forcefully, to leave, I have one
month to come up with my first semester’s tuition. No way my father will
pull it off in time.
My options are dwindling. Fast.
I could ask any number of my friends for the money. Their parents
probably wouldn’t even miss it. But that would expose my father. That
would out me as a fraud.
Not one of them.
There is one option a lot of girls my age have to pursue—being a sugar
baby. Finding a man much older than them to foot the bills. In exchange
for…company. Of the biblical variety.
There is a website I’ve visited many times. I still haven’t brought
myself to create a profile, but I’m nearing the deadline fast when I’ll need
money. I’ll have no choice but to make a profile soon and hope someone is
interested.
But what if…what if I could be Gunner’s sugar baby?
It would be a dream come true.
And if he’d just let down his guard, he’d realize I would be good for
him. That no one will love and appreciate his hard work like I do. If we just
spent some time together, as adults, he’d stop thinking of me as a child. Or
the friend of his son. Daughter of his colleague. I could be the one thing in
his life that isn’t related to stress and work.
That’s when the idea formulates…
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 CHAPTER TWO

Gunner

Jaw grinding, I stare at the little pink pile of lace on my desk.

I can be your secret, Papa. Think about it.
Josie has no idea how long I’ve been thinking about it. I’ve been
counting the days until she leaves for college, dread and relief warring
inside of me. When she leaves, I won’t have to come home every night
worried I’ll finally snap. Finally drag the girl up to my bedroom, slam the
door and fuck her until she screams.
The constant temptation is killing me. The way she dances into the
kitchen in various revealing outfits, her hands growing more and more
brave when they touch me. She’s the ultimate forbidden fruit. Twenty seven
years my junior. My son’s best friend. The daughter of a colleague. And on
top of everything, I’ve been almost like a second father to her all these
years.
I’m not sure when everything changed. It’s a blur. Work does that to me.
It blinds me to everything going on in my personal life. One day I looked
up and Josie had a perky little rack and a mouthwatering ass that made my
cock stand straight up. My head spun at the changes, which she loves to
display in my kitchen to the detriment of my sanity.
The girl is a flirt. A tease.
 She has always had that nature, but her new body makes that personality
a weapon.
I can’t be the only victim, right?
I tell myself this over and over again.
The girl is only being kind to the bulky old man, making me feel
desirable. Reminding me I still have a working dick and decades left to use
it. There is no way in hell that beautiful girl wants me, an aging, thick
around the middle bastard with more salt in his hair than pepper. It’s just a
game. She’s only teasing, playing around.
That’s what I thought until she propositioned me.
Josie could have her pick of any man in this world, let alone this city.
And yet…
I can be your secret, Papa. Think about it.
God help me, it has been a week since she said those words to me and
they’ve been echoing in my head ever since. I can’t get rid of my erection,
no matter how many times I stroke off. And every single time, I think of her
whining Papa in my ear, her tight pussy making squelching noises while I
pump in and out of it. Honestly, I should be sent to prison for even
fantasizing about the girl, but that’s as far as I’m going to get.
There will be no calling her.
No wondering how we would keep the secret.
I’m an honorable man. Not some middle-aged pervert who needs a
barely-legal girlfriend to feel younger. Josie has a rich future ahead. An
education, a career.
Other men.
I slam my fist down so hard on the table, my wireless keyboard flips
over.
It’s ridiculous to be jealous. Absolutely ridiculous. I’ve let the flirting
get to me. I’ve allowed myself to start wondering if I’m different in some
way. Special to her.
How pathetic.
Look at yourself.
My reflection in the screen of my computer draws my attention. Maybe
once upon a time I could have been considered handsome in a non-
traditional way, but I’m forty-five now and I’ve traded my health for
wealth. What would I even look like on top of Josie’s supple young body? It
would be like that grainy homemade porn between a high-class escort and
her john.
With an impatient curse, I swipe the panties off my desk and shove
them back into my pocket, giving in to the urge to smell my hand, roughly
inhaling the lingering perfume of her pussy before determinedly turning my
mind back to work. I open my email, ready to respond to an important
inquiry, when a subject line—about five emails from the top—catches my
eye.
YOU HAVE TO TRY THIS SERVICE. HIGHLY RECOMMEND.
Is it an advertisement? Seems like it. But why didn’t my filtering
service pick it up? I don’t recognize the email address, but the name of the
sender sounds vaguely familiar. Richard Thomas Holden. That sounds like
one of my rich asshole golfing buddies for sure. And if so, I don’t want to
outright ignore them, especially if this is something ALL CAPS important.
I tap my finger on my mouse for a moment, then click on the email,
finding a link in the body—and that’s all. Just a blue link.
Embedded among the URL are the words sugar babies.
What the hell is that?
I’m about to close the email, to forget about it, but something makes me
tap it out of curiosity. I’m not a man who can walk away from a mystery
and I’ve never heard the words sugar babies put together like that. If this is
some illegal shit that has somehow been sent to me by mistake, I’ll make
sure to alert the proper authorities. And when the website splashes open
across my screen, that is my first thought. This is illegal. It’s prostitution.
There are girls, young enough to be my daughter, if I had one, smiling
in photographs. They’re lying in beds and showing peeks of skin beneath
their college sweatshirts. I make a sound of disgust, purely because these
poor girls must have reasons to exchange their bodies for money. Reasons
like debt, I’m assuming. And I don’t like knowing this is an avenue for men
my age to take advantage with their bottomless bank accounts. Who the hell
sent me this—?
Wait. No. It can’t be.
Josie?
No, she can’t be on this website.
And yet…there she is. In a bathing-suit top and miniscule frayed jean
shorts, giving the camera that flirtatious smile I know so well. She’s listed
in the FEATURED section. Of course she is. She is outrageously beautiful
with her bedroom eyes that speak of a higher intelligence. Those lithe
thighs and glossed-up lips. Who else has access to this website? Thousands
of men? Millions? Every single one of them would click on her…including
me. I have no choice. And I tell myself I’m exploring her profile because I
need more information before putting a stop to this bullshit. But hell, if the
pictures of Josie frolicking on the beach in a thong bikini don’t give me the
hard on of my fucking life.
Somehow I drag my gaze off the shot of her wet buns and read the
actual bio.
Hey there. I’m Josie. I’m a college student looking for financial support
in exchange for private time with you…
Financial support?
What the fuck?
Her father is the COO of a lucrative hedge fund. We came up through
the ranks together. I’ve been to dinner at his home. Josie’s family is
financially stable—and that’s an understatement. It makes no sense that she
would be in need of money. None at all.
Well this ends now.
Right now.
The thought of some lecherous old man putting his hands on Josie’s
body is making me sick to my stomach. And yes, isn’t that exactly what I
am for wanting to touch her?
With an inward growl of self-loathing, I snatch up my phone and scroll
through to Josie’s phone number. I’ve had her contact info for as long as I
can remember, wanting to have a backup way of reaching my son when
they venture out of the house. But I’ve never had to use it until now. Even
the act of calling her on the phone and knowing I’m about to hear her voice
is making my cock throb relentlessly in my pants.
She answers on the third ring. “Um, hello? Mr. Kraft? Is everything
okay?”
A shout builds in my throat. I’m a split second from yelling at her,
demanding an explanation as to why she is on this disgusting website. But I
want to see her face when we have the discussion. I want to weigh her
reactions. If I lose my temper with her, I might lose the chance to talk some
sense into the girl.
Right.
You should be calling her father.
 Letting him handle the whole thing.
She’s not my daughter and it’s none of my business.
Christ, maybe I just want her in my office. To look at her. Maybe I’m
that sick and horny for this girl that I’d put myself through more torture just
to be around her. But no matter how badly I’d like to have Josie’s legs
spread open on my desk, I won’t. I won’t let that happen.
I’m going to fix this problem for her and move on.
Get my head back into work mode where it belongs.
“Josie.” My voice sounds like the bottom of an oil barrel. “There is
something I want to discuss with you. Immediately. Are you downtown?”
“No, I’m getting a pedicure. I chose cotton-candy pink.” She giggles
and I almost groan out loud, roughly fondling my cock through the zipper
of my dress pants. “What is this about, Papa Bear?”
“Text me the address,” I growl through my teeth. “I’ll send a car.”
I whip out my pocket square and wipe the sweat off my lip.
I’m out of my fucking mind bringing her here.
But I can’t help staring at the door in anticipation.
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 CHAPTER THREE

Josie

I step out of the black SUV and smooth the ruffles of my pink skirt, staring
up at the black onyx building emblazoned with the words Kraft
Investments. Before the car pulls away, I turn to check my mascara, making
sure my French-braided pigtails don’t have any stray hairs sticking up and
nod, satisfied.
“Thank you,” I call to the driver. And when there is a break in
pedestrian traffic, I move across the sidewalk toward the building. Where
my presence has been very gruffly requested.
Of course I know why.
It’s the email I sent from that fake account.
I’m actually a little surprised that Gunner clicked on the link because he
isn’t the type to trust the unknown or put up with any shenanigans. I was
making a list of other ways to get the website in front of his face when he
called me.
Based on his steely tone of voice, he has definitely seen my profile on
the sugar babies website. It went live last night and I’ve had three hundred
and twenty requests for contact. Not that I read a single one of them. I
won’t read any of them unless I fail at convincing Gunner to give in. To
give us what we both need.
Please don’t let him say no. Please don’t let him reject me.
 It has been a week since I had his hands on me and I feel like I’m
drowning without the maturity of his touch. The scrape of his palms and the
rasp of his breath. I’ve lost count of the hours I’ve spent lying in bed and
replaying those moments in the kitchen when our mouths met. Even now,
walking through the air-conditioned lobby of his building, my nipples are
erect thinking about how close we came to kissing. Me and Mr. Kraft.
The elevator arrives and I step inside amidst a group of black suits. I
almost laugh at how insanely out of place I look, a pigtailed girl in head-to-
toe pink, surrounded by businessmen. I face the wall to hide my stiff
nipples, remembering too late that it’s mirrored—and none of the men are
shy about looking at me, two of them even crowding closer until I’m
pressed into the corner of the elevator, my breath accelerating with nerves,
fear.
Normally, I’m a flirt. No amount of interest rattles me. But only with
dumb boys my age who I can easily rebuff if they get the wrong idea. Or
perceive my teasing as something more.
It’s never more. Only for Gunner.
Only ever for Gunner.
These men are older, have a hard, worldly look in their eyes. They’re
used to getting what they want. My father has had men like this over for
dinner countless times. I’ve attended parties with them. But I always make
sure not to be alone with them. Not when they make their interest so
obvious when no one is looking.
The men are all facing me now. Four of them, I see in the mirrored wall.
One of them starts to unbuckle his belt, another one preparing to hit the
emergency stop button on the metal panel—
The doors roll open.
And there is Gunner.
I start to slump against the wall in relief, but he already has my elbow in
his grip and he’s pulling me off the elevator. Away from the predatory
men…and directly into his embrace.
My knees almost give out at the perfection of being held by Gunner.
My savior.
I slide my arms up around his neck and inhale the woodsy scent from
his clothes, nearly moaning when he wraps me up tight, one arm around my
shoulders, one low around the small of my back. And when I look up, I see
he’s snarling at the men on the elevator, baring his teeth at them in a
possessive way that turns me on as much as it gives me hope. If he’s
possessive over me, there is no way he’ll allow me to remain on the sugar
babies website, right?
He’ll have no choice but to claim me.
The elevator closes once again, taking away the foursome of men.
“I have their faces on camera, Josie. They’ll be fired before the hour is
out. They’ll be so ruined in this city, they’ll have no choice but to leave.”
He exhales a curse. “I was watching the camera feed. I worried the elevator
wouldn’t get here in time, baby—”
“It did. Now I’m safe,” I whisper into his neck, snuggling closer.
“Thank you, Papa.”
Between our tightly-pressed bodies, Gunner becomes erect. I hear him
swallow hard, one of his hands getting lost in the pink ruffles of my skirt.
“What is this outfit you’re wearing? Throw in these pigtails and you look
like a school girl.”
“I am a school girl.”
“Perhaps you should be punished like one,” he rasps, dragging his hand
up the back of my skirt and kneading my right cheek—just one glorious
time—before he rips his hand away, disentangling from me with a shaky
curse. “Enough of this, Josie. Goddammit.”
Feeling abandoned, I default to my flirtatious routine, biting my bottom
lip and twisting side to side. “You’re the one who brought me here.”
Gunner’s attention drops to my breasts and heats. “I must have been
insane,” he mutters thickly, taking me by the wrist. “Don’t make eye
contact with any of the men on the trading floor, is that understood?”
Laughing, I allow Gunner to drag me out of the deserted marble
elevator bank and down a hallway. At the end of it, there is a reception
desk, a sweeping, brightly lit office beyond, packed full of analysts and
traders, all glued to their computers. “Why can’t I make eye contact?”
I’m caught off guard when Gunner wheels around, pressing me up
against the wall of the hallway, his hard face an inch from me. “You
perpetually look like you need to be fucked. That’s why. Every man you
look at sees an invitation.”
His big chest and stomach are pinning me and I love it. “That’s their
problem, not mine.”
“Don’t. Look. At a single one of them, Josie.” Lightly, his hand circles
my throat, tightening ever so slightly. “In my current mood, if one of them
showed interest in you, they would be removed from my employ
immediately.”
“Why?” I trail a finger down his chest. “Because you want me all to
yourself?”
He’s right on the verge of saying yes. I can tell. But at the last second,
he blows out an unsteady breath and continues leading me down the
hallway and through the office. It’s definitely in my nature to make eye
contact with some inconsequential boy just to incite Gunner. What can I
say? I’m sassy like that. But I want to be alone with him too badly to blow
my chance. So I keep my eyes down on the sapphire-blue carpet until we’re
safely enclosed in his office.
I’ve been in my father’s office, which is impressive, but Gunner’s is
even more so. Two walls made up entirely of windows overlooking the
financial district. A leather sofa in front of a fireplace. And on the other side
of the office, there are built in bookshelves behind a humongous desk. He
leads me over to it now, hitting a button on his phone that brings down the
blinds on the windows, darkening the office, except for the flicker of the
fireplace and the glow of his computer.
With a firm hand on my back, Gunner bends me forward over his desk,
putting my face right in front of the screen—and there it is. The sugar
babies website has been pulled up and my profile is open. Just knowing he
looked at these pictures of me so scantily dressed wets my panties, makes
me restlessly hot.
“Josie Elizabeth Lancaster,” Gunner says, using my full name, his hand
flat between my shoulder blades, his lap pressed to my bottom. “You tell me
right now that someone stole these pictures. That you didn’t voluntarily put
them up on this horrific website.”
“I…I…”
“Josie, you didn’t. Tell me you didn’t.”
“I did,” I whisper, my breath fogging up the computer screen. “How…
who sent you this? How did you find out?”
Gunner lets out a hiss of breath over my confession, his big hand
twisting in the back of my tank top. “A friend sent it to me, urging me to try
the service. A service where men my age find young girls to fuck between
business meetings. It’s inexcusable. It’s wrong.”
I don’t like making Gunner this upset. He doesn’t take care of himself
and I get very worried about his stress level. Sometimes it even keeps me
awake at night, tossing and turning anxiously, wishing he would just let me
care for him. But I have to see this through. This is make or break. I can’t
go on waiting for him to see me as more than a little girl. I have to force
him to notice. I have to tempt him until he gives in. The alternative is loving
him from afar for the rest of my life and I truly think that will kill me. So
it’s full speed ahead.
Trust the plan.
“I wonder if your friend is one of the men who messaged me,” I drawl.
“Asking to meet.”
Gunner stiffens, the tempo of his breath changing. Growing harsher.
The fire crackles on the opposite end of the office. And then he does
something I’m not expecting, but excites me beyond my wildest dreams. He
flips up my skirt and spanks me. Hard.
“Cock teasing little brat,” he grunts, slapping his palm against my other
cheek, ripping a gasp from my mouth, my fingers turning to claws on the
desk. “You will take yourself off this fucking site. Immediately. You’ll
delete every message you received. And I’m going to watch you do it.
You’re going to sit that hot little ass right in Papa’s lap and take it all the
hell down.”
I want to tell him yes. Yes, I’ll do it.
Especially because he called himself Papa. Treating me like his
wayward little girl, just like I’ve dreamed about for so long. I want to
scream my agreement and make him happy and be a good girl. But I can’t
do that yet. Not yet. Not until he claims me himself.
“No,” I whimper. “You can’t make me.”
“Oh yes I can.” I’m turned over and crowded up onto the desk. He
looms so close, I have no choice but to open my thighs for him, my
femininity clenching when he steps between them, pressing his hard shaft
flush to my cleft. “You don’t need the money, Josie. Why?”
“I do need it.” I wet my lips, hating that I have to lie. “M-my father
keeps me on too short a leash. I want more spending money. Not that I owe
you an explanation.”
“Don’t you, baby?” He ducks his head, breathing hard against the side
of my neck. “Don’t you owe me an explanation, after treating me to little
peeks of tits and ass for months? After you flashed me that airtight pussy on
my kitchen counter?”
 My thighs flex involuntarily around his bulky hips, my nipples
throbbing now. Painfully. “You have a filthy mouth, Mr. Kraft. I had no
idea.”
“Take down the profile,” he says with forced calm, his lips traveling up
the side of my neck to bury in my hair, his hands inching higher and higher
up the outside of my thighs. “You want spending money? I’ll get you a
credit card. Cash. Whatever you want. But you don’t respond to any of
those men. You take your beautiful image off the site.”
Almost there.
I can’t believe it, but we’re almost there. He’s touching me, offering me
money.
It’s happening.
Once we have an agreement, we’ll have time. Time alone. To finally get
to know each other as adults. I’ll finally be able to show him how good we
can be together.
I run my hand down the length of his tie, tugging gently. “Are you
offering to be my sugar daddy, Mr. Kraft?”
“What?” he barks, his head coming up. Eyes flashing. “Absolutely not.
I’ll give you the money without strings. I’m not making a teenager fuck me
for cash.”
Make me?
Is he crazy? I’m practically begging.
Push a little more.
“I won’t take your money without giving something in return.”
“Josie. No.” Even as he supposedly turns down my offer, he rakes his
hands down over my breasts, plumping them in his hands. Teasing my
already-stiff nipples between his thumb and forefinger. “Jesus Christ, these
tits…they make me so goddamn hot.”
That admission dampens my panties even more. So close.
Ever so slightly, I tug him forward by the tie, planting my mouth against
his ear. “There are a lot of reasons a man like you would want a sugar
baby.” Slowly, I let go of his tie, lean back slightly and peel off my tank top,
watching a violent shudder pass through him at the sight of my bare breasts.
I draw his hands to them, urging him to mold the mounds in his strong grip
and a wet spot appears on the fly of his pants, that massive chest heaving.
“For one, you don’t have time to date. But you still deserve pleasure, don’t
you?” I find his erection with my hand, rubbing the now-wet material up
and down, earning a guttural moan from his mouth. “And with so much
money, Papa, why not get that pleasure from a virgin? Don’t you want a
little girl all your own?”
“Goddammit, no. A virgin?” His hands leave my breasts and grip my
hips, as if he’s trying to convince himself to push me away. Instead, he
yanks me up against his big body forcefully, dislodging my hands from his
arousal. “Ah Jesus. No. I can’t. I can’t. I could be your father.”
“No. But you can be my Papa.” I open my thighs wider around his hips,
arching my back enticingly. “Papa gets to put it anywhere.”
I have no sexual experience. I’m just a flirt.
But I can sense Gunner is on the verge of something extraordinary. His
back is beginning to hunch, his fingers clutching and unclutching my hips.
The color of his face deepens, his eyes squeezing shut. Nostrils flaring.
“You’d own my mouth. You’d own all of me,” I whisper. “I’m on the
pill so you don’t have to pull out or use a condom.”
And then he makes a choked sound, ramming his hips up between my
thighs. Just once. And he bellows into my neck, grinding down, down, his
hefty frame shaking against me. Straining. Dampness blooms on the front
of his pants, so much moisture that it drenches my panties, making them
cling to my sex. All I can do is take it, let him soak me, my mouth open in
utter shock and joy, my hands stroking his broad back soothingly.
“Get it all over me, Papa. I’m your good girl.”
Another bellowing moan and more release soaks the fly of his dress
pants, his shaft jerking behind the zipper, his grip bruising on my hips. His
mouth kisses my neck reverently, just once, and then unexpectedly, he tears
himself away from me, taking a pocket square from the back pocket of his
pants and wiping his forehead and upper lip, his gaze hot and a little wild
on the spot between my splayed thighs. “Take the profile down. Now.”
“Does this mean—”
“Yes,” he heaves, raking a hand down his face. “I’ll be your…sugar
daddy.”
I come very close to crying.
I’ve loved him so long.
Now I get to kiss him, be with him, spend time together the only way a
no-nonsense businessman like him would ever allow. Under a contract. I
want to throw myself into his arms, but I can tell he’s stunned by the force
of his reaction to me. Knowing I need to give him time to acclimate to our
new relationship, I put my tank top back on and hop off the desk, turning
toward the monitor of his computer. A few key strokes later and the profile
has been deleted.
“There,” I say, blinking back at him over my shoulder. “I’m taken.”
Still not breathing normally, Gunner jerks his wallet from his front right
pocket and removes every bill in the fold. A giant stack of hundreds. And
hands it to me. “Until I can make arrangements.”
Guilt tries to pervade my belly, but I ignore it. Gunner is a multi-
billionaire. There is no limit to what he can afford. Plus, I remind myself, he
would never agree to a normal relationship with me. He’s a man of rules
and structure. I should know, I’ve been infatuated with him since I was
twelve. There is no cheating at board games under his roof. No dessert
before dinner. He needs things outlined perfectly and that’s why this plan
will work. Until I can convince him we can have a real relationship. No
money involved. Just love.
“Thank you,” I say, going up on my toes to kiss him softly on the
mouth. “I’ll wait for you to call.” Another kiss, followed by a gentle bite of
his full bottom lip. “I’ll think of you non-stop.”
He groans, staggering toward me and kissing me back, inhaling me,
really, before breaking away as if shaken. More than anything, I want to be
held in his arms, especially after my first sexual experience, but I know how
to quit while I’m ahead. I’ve gotten what I came for and I better leave
before Gunner’s conscience gets the better of him. So with one more kiss of
his masculine mouth, I fix my clothes as much as possible and leave the
office, already counting the seconds until my phone rings.
OceanofPDF.com
 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…
OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER FIVE

Gunner

The elevator door opens directly into the suite, but I can’t summon the
willpower to stop kissing Josie and step off. I can’t believe it—this is the
first time I’ve kissed her with tongue. I didn’t realize before that my hands
were touching, our bodies rubbing, even our lips pressing. But we haven’t
kissed properly, wetly, until now. It’s a practice for young people. Children.
At least that’s what I thought before.
Now, I’m not sure how I’ve survived a single day without her
whimpering mouth opening up for mine, offering her tongue like a
sacrifice. Our height difference puts her much lower than me, so her head is
tipped back, her fingers winding in the front of my shirt. She’s usually so
smooth, so practiced in her flirting, but the kiss seems to undo her, as much
as it’s undoing me, and she can’t remain balanced on her toes, stumbling
sideways, trembling. Until I pick her up again and she sighs, like a happy
angel, wrapping her thighs around my waist.
And we go on kissing.
I flatten her to the wall of the elevator and our tongues fuck blatantly,
my hips holding her in place so my hands can roam. There isn’t a single
place on her body I don’t want to touch, my smooth, sexy girl. Her legs, the
beautiful planes of her face, the curves of her sides and her horny little tits.
Once I’ve thumbed her nipples into tight pebbles, I tunnel my fingers
through her blonde hair and pull it, making her cry out, her pussy rubbing
anxiously on my cock. She might have no idea what it’s like to have sex,
but she wants it all the same.
Wants it from Papa.
Bad.
Finally, I manage to walk us off the elevator, striding to the back
bedroom. The man who thought about having Josie on that bed is not the
same man who enters the bedroom now. We’ve only spent an hour together
and I already feel…lighter. Better. Unburdened. And even though it was
hell to delay the main event, I can’t be sorry about the time we spent
talking. I’ve always thought Josie was incredible, smart, sensitive. She’s
more, though.
She’s magic.
All those things she said about finding me desirable…I truly don’t know
if she meant them or if my money goes, in part, toward her boosting my
ego. At the moment, I don’t give a fuck what is lie and what is truth. I’m
too hard, too horny. If she’s a liar, so be it. I’m grateful for whatever this
perfect angel gives me. I’ll accept it like a beggar.
There’s a voice in the back of my head telling me that I do care if she’s
lying.
That I want her to be telling the truth. That it matters. A lot.
I ignore the voice and throw her down on the bed, however, growling at
the picture she makes in the T-shirt, thigh high tights and heels. Young.
Fuck, she’s so young. But when she gets up on her knees and strips the T-
shirt off, my conscience is nowhere to be found.
“You might as well not be wearing any panties,” I manage hoarsely,
reaching out to finger the thin pink string adorning her hip, then running my
touch down to the tiny soaked triangle that holds no mysteries. It molds to
her cleft like a second skin and all I can think about is eating that pussy like
my last meal.
Josie trails her fingertips up her ribcage and cups her tits, squeezing her
nipples into even tighter peaks. “Do you want me to wear panties, Papa?
You’re the one who decides.”
Jesus.
My fingers work my buttons clumsily, my palms damp. I’m already
laboring to breathe. My balls are embarrassingly full, my cock curved to the
right in my dress pants, harder than a goddamn metal rod. I came on her
without taking my pants off last time. This time, I’ll be surprised if I make
it two pumps before my body releases the flood.
You’re the one who decides, she said.
And it finally sinks in that I’m in charge. I’m paying her.
She’ll do any sinful thing I ask.
“Dance for me while I’m undressing. The way you do in the den—
under my roof—when I’m not supposed to be looking.” I’m all but ripping
my buttons through their holes now, getting rid of my shirt and starting on
the buckle of my pants. “Do you know how many times you’ve sent me
upstairs to fuck my hand, little girl?”
A flush crawls up her neck, her cheeks. “Really?”
I yank down my zipper, groaning over the added space for my dick to
grow. “Don’t act surprised. You knew what you were doing, didn’t you?”
She bites her lip shyly, turning around to face the panoramic window
overlooking the city. Then she drops forward on all fours and slowly grinds
her hips in a circle. “Like this, Papa?”
God almighty.
Her ass is completely bare, except for the little pink string caught
between her cheeks. I’ve never seen anything so taut, round and delicious in
my life. And those stockings that run up to mid-thigh…they’re naughty.
Somehow the black, see through nylon makes this assignation exactly what
it was meant to be. An old man banging a barely-legal girl in exchange for a
small fortune. I should be ashamed over how feverish that turns my skin.
Maybe I am ashamed, but nothing can stop me now. Not when she’s
shaking her backside for me, sliding her thighs open nice and wide, giving
me a view of the entire pink string and where it touches. Asshole and pussy.
All of her glistening. Ready for me.
Worth millions. Worth every cent I’ll rain down on her.
I grab her hips and jerk her toward me on the mattress, groaning as she
begins to grind on me, teasing her naked ass up and down in my lap,
tweaking it side to side. Anxious, breathy sounds come out of her mouth as
she does it, as if she could get off just like this, working her backside
against Papa’s fat johnson. If I’m not careful, I’m going to come even
earlier than expected—and nothing is going to keep my tongue out of her
cunt. So before she can grind the semen out of me, I step sideways and get
onto the bed, lying flat on my back.
“Now do it on my face.”
 Josie’s seductress mask slips and her innocence shines through at my
request. She’s never had a man’s mouth between her thighs, that much is
clear, and I’m fucking exultant over being her first. Possessiveness roars in
my veins. No one else is ever going to lick her but me. Christ, I’d spend
every last cent in my bank accounts to keep her for me and me alone,
wouldn’t I? Yes. Look at her. She’s a fantasy come to life. My fantasy.
And she has no idea how to get pleasure.
She needs to be taught.
I crook a finger at Josie and she comes on her hands and knees, kneeling
beside me.
I pluck her up and settle her on top of me so she’s straddling my chest, a
position that forces her to spread her legs as wide as possible, because of
my size, and her knees still don’t touch the bed. She looks excited, but
nervous—and excitement wins when I take her butt cheeks in my hands and
knead them roughly, her eyelids fluttering, bare tits rising and falling.
“Do you know where your clitoris is, Josie?”
She starts to nod, then stops. Shakes her head slowly. “I know there’s a
spot that feels good, but I can never seem to make it feel good enough to…
to…”
“To come.” My right hand trails over her hip, finding the damp flesh
between her thighs. Knuckling aside the pink thong, I rub my thumb along
the seam of her pussy until it parts, watching her eyes widen when I find
her clit and stroke it gently, gently, then faster. “Any time we’re together,
baby, this is where I’ll be touching. Playing with this little rosebud makes
you wet for my cock. And getting my cock into you is what I pay to do,
isn’t it?”
“Yes, Papa,” she gasps.
I tease my thumb faster and she whimpers breathily, her thighs jolting
on either side of me. “I can touch it a lot of ways. My fingers, like this. Or
we can use toys. But right now, I want you to grind it on my mouth. My
chin. My nose. Every fucking where. Make Papa proud.”
Her apprehension in itself is a turn-on as she crawls up my body,
dragging her tits over my face, continuing until her fragrant little mound is
an inch above my starving mouth. Slowly, she drops it down, her soft petals
of flesh parting around my tongue, which I immediately wiggle against her
clit—
 “Oh!” Her thighs slide apart and she rolls her hips, dragging her clit on
my tongue a second time, screaming through clenched teeth. “Oh my God.”
When her fingers grip my hair and she starts to fuck my mouth, I almost
spill my seed.
Her smooth, slippery sex rides me relentlessly and Jesus, I’m a pervert.
A sick fuck, getting off on an eighteen-year-old having her first orgasm on
my face. But I couldn’t stop this if I wanted to. My hips lever up, thrusting
my hard-on into the air, my hands on her juicy little ass to keep her
grinding, my mouth feasting on her like a ripe melon, her youth and
horniness dripping down my cheeks and chin—and still she rides, her cries
of Papa growing louder and more anxious until finally, she stiffens, her
pleasure bursting all over my tongue.
“GunnerGunnerGunner,” she whines, still undulating on my face.
I made this beautiful goddess come and it inflates me with male pride.
Might be ugly, too old for her and oversized, but at the very least, I can give
her an orgasm. That confidence has my body moving to flip Josie on her
back. Staring down into her dazed blue eyes, I shove down my briefs and
fist my aching cock, shoving it against her hole. “Let me in, little girl.”
“I’m yours, I’m yours,” she sobs, her hands twisting in the comforter on
either side of her head, her thighs opening in welcome. “I want to make you
feel good, too, Papa.”
“Oh, you will. As often as I want, isn’t that right?” I wedge an inch
inside of her and have to stop to get myself under control. Bare minimum, I
need to get my whole dick inside of her before I come. Her extreme
tightness could prove that a pipe dream, though.
Jesus.
Her innocence, the knowledge that I’m the first one to claim her, turns
me into an animal. I’ve never been like this before. Dominating. Starved.
But there is permission in her eyes, her body language. She wants
everything I have to give. Maybe even needs it.
I wrap my hand around her throat and thrust another two inches deep,
her pussy suctioning up around me. “Give me that fucking cherry,” I growl
through my teeth, flattening her petite body and jerking her knees up to her
shoulders. “This is where teasing gets you, baby. This is where looking like
sex on legs gets you. Underneath a man your father’s age with a bloody
little pussy. Let me deeper.”
 She makes a mewling sound of struggle and wiggles her hips, allowing
in some more—and I feel her virgin barrier stopping my tip from going any
further. Tenderness catches me unexpectedly in the chest, bringing my
mouth down to hers where I kiss her soothingly, with reassurance, even as I
try to stuff my cock deeper. There’s no stopping it. No putting off what I’ve
wanted from this girl for longer than I’ll ever admit.
“Gunner,” she whimpers against my lips, her eyes bright, nervous.
“Baby,” I groan, preparing, sinking my tongue in and out of her sweet
mouth. “It’ll be okay. I’m here. I’ve got you.”
She nods trustingly, wide eyes on her Papa—and I ram forward,
breaking through the obstacle of her virginity, her miracle pussy swallowing
me whole. My shoulder muffles her scream, her fingernails imbedding in
my back. And I’m not exaggerating. The pussy is a fucking miracle. It
milks me from root to head, little muscles rippling, stroking my cock like a
million tiny hands. It might be a decade since I had sex, but I know damn
well she feels even better than she’s supposed to. A million miles beyond
what I’ve experienced or could have imagined.
“My baby okay?” I manage, my spine already beginning to tighten,
balls drawing up.
Shit. Goddammit. I’m not going to last one thrust.
“Yes,” she hiccups, kissing my neck, my shoulders and cheeks. “Big,
big, big.”
Her praise makes me groan raggedly and I try to pull out halfway, so I
can sink back into heaven and drain my cock, but I can barely move inside
of her. “Christ, Josie.”
“I made myself tight for Papa,” she leans up and whispers in my ear.
“Every morning and night, I clenched it really tight, released, clenched,
released…”
As she says the words, her pussy performs the actions until I’m panting
into the space between us, shudders wracking my body. “FUCK,” I growl,
sparks blinking in front of my vision. “You’re going to get it now, little
girl.”
All I can do after that is assault her.
That’s the only way to define it.
I shove her legs open on the bed and do exactly as I threatened. I rail her
like a dog, slamming my dick in and out of her wet blonde cunt. She
screams and claws at me, begging me not to stop, rocking her hips up to
meet my hectic drives, my grunts loud enough to be heard in the room next
door, along with her calls of my name—and in this moment, I want that. I
want everyone in this hotel to know I get to fuck this supple eighteen-year-
old. I want them to know she primed her pussy for me so it would be extra
snug. And I can’t believe my luck. Whether I’m paying or not, I can’t
believe she’s allowing my big, hairy body on top of her smooth, tiny one for
a single second. That she’s not only spreading her legs for me, she’s
moaning with pleasure, not put off by my aggression at all. No, it’s making
her hot.
“Harder, Papa. Punish me.”
I’m not sure how I stop myself from ejaculating. Maybe it’s the intense
need to stay locked inside her perfection for as long as possible, but
somehow I hold back. Long enough to pull out of Josie and flip her face
down, yanking her hips up and back into my lap. I reenter her with my
purpling cock, our flesh slapping madly as I raw-dog her from behind,
employing not a hint of gentleness. She doesn’t want gentleness, either. Not
my girl. She tilts her hips back and asks for it harder. Faster.
Across the dark room, I catch our reflections in the window. Big and
small. Man and girl. Her small breasts bounce every time I smack into her,
tight pussy welcoming me wetly. Her mouth is open, eyes clenched shut.
Enjoying the hell out of being ridden rough. And I know in that moment
that I’m already addicted to her. This isn’t going to be a casual arrangement.
The way she feels—the way she makes me feel, inside and out—is what
I’ve been missing for so long. And she was right there in front of me the
whole time.
With a snarl of possession, I hunch over her smooth back, bringing my
fingers between her thighs to stroke her clit. “No more flirting, Josie. Not
with anyone but me, understand? I get it all. Every smile. Every shake of
those tits.” I pound her relentlessly, my climax beginning to crest,
thickening my voice, pulling taut the muscles in my loins. “You want to
flirt? You get on your knees and flirt with Papa’s big dick. Are we clear on
that?”
“Yes, Papa!” she screams, her little body shuddering through an orgasm.
I give up the fight at the first clench of her pussy, my shaft spasming,
firing a hot line of come into her wet heat. Primal ownership surges inside
of me and I wind her hair in my fist, pushing her face down into the
mattress, burying my cock as deep as it’ll go. Growling. My hips slapping
off her tight ass, rope after rope of semen filling her until I collapse
sideways.
My big stomach heaves inside of my undershirt, my cock still half-hard
in the open V of my trousers. I think life can’t get any better, when
suddenly it does. Josie curls up into my side like a drowsy kitten, naked and
rosy and dazed from her orgasm. It feels completely natural to turn onto my
side and welcome her into my arms, smiling as she snuggles into my black-
and-white chest hair. I think she’s fallen asleep when her hesitant voice
reaches my ears.
“Did I…please you?”
A laugh barks out of me before I can stop it. “Josie. I could die a happy
man right now. Life can only go downhill after what we just did. You
were…you are…Jesus Christ. I should be asking if I pleased you, not the
other way around.”
“You did,” she whispers shakily, hot eyes raking up and down my chest.
“A lot.”
Unbelievably, my cock is already starting to stir again. This girl…she
invigorates me. Makes me feel even more alive than I felt when I was her
age. Not only in sexual way, either. The organ in my chest has been twisted
up into a knot beneath my jugular.
“We can’t spend the night together, can we?” Josie says, more of a
question than a statement. “My parents would ask questions if I didn’t come
home.”
I blow out a breath. “So would Paul,” I say, tipping her chin up so our
eyes meet. “Once you and Paul move out, head to college, we’ll be
spending nights together, Josie.”
Every. Single. Night.
“In the meantime, I’m going to book this room indefinitely.”
“Really?” Her lips part, heat kindling in her eyes. And something else.
Something like hero worship that stiffens my dick into a crowbar. Despite
the fact that we’re both expected at home, despite the late hour, God himself
couldn’t stop me from rolling my sugar baby onto her back, pumping back
into that hot, wet pussy and riding her into the ground.
“Mine,” I groan, my hips rutting wildly. “Mine.”
Her back arches as the orgasm overtakes her. “Yours.”
OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER SIX

Josie

I’m trying really hard to focus on organizing my class schedule, but gifts
keep arriving.
It has been a week since my first time with Gunner. Since then, we’ve
been meeting at the suite every night at nine o’clock…and I’ve never been
so happy. So cherished and safe and excited to wake up in the morning. My
body is sated and sore. My heart is blooming with new love and
appreciation for the man who is now my sugar daddy.
The man I want to be so much more.
Soon.
Every time we’re together, we become closer.
It’s not just about the raw, filthy sex. Or the fact that we’re addicting to
giving and receiving pleasure from one another. No, it’s also about the quiet
moments afterwards when he holds me and we talk. About silly things and
important ones. Problems that arose during our day apart. Our favorite
foods and places in the city and movies.
We are twenty-seven years apart and have different personalities. He’s
quiet, stern and I’m outgoing, bubbly. He has a ten-year plan and I barely
have a ten-minute plan. But we also have a lot in common. We both love
classic seventies rock and even play songs while lying in bed together
occasionally. Our favorite place to visit is Barcelona, though we’ve never
been there together. And we both have secretly sensitive sides that we keep
to ourselves. We share them with each other, though. Gunner doesn’t hide
from me and I don’t hide from him.
Well.
Except for a couple of major secrets I’m keeping. But I don’t plan to
keep them much longer. Just a little while more. Just until I’m confident he
won’t freak out when I tell him I want to be with him. Forever. Without
being paid. Without him sending me gift after gift.
Speaking of…
I push back from the desk in my bedroom and flit across the cushy
white rug. Sunlight glints off the Olympic-sized swimming pool in the
backyard and pours into my room, warming me in my belted robe as I make
my way out into the hallway and down the stairs, so I can answer the front
door. As recently as a year ago, one of the maids would have answered and
informed me of the guest, but they’ve all been released because my father
can no longer afford to pay them. I can’t have Paul or any of my friends
over—they would notice the lack of help immediately. But compared to our
staff losing their income, it’s not a serious hardship, so I don’t complain
about not being able to entertain. Besides, if I wasn’t home alone right now,
there would be a lot of questions regarding the suited messenger on my
front porch holding a shopping bag from Cartier.
“Thank you,” I say, shaking my head while accepting the silver-and-
white bag. I’m smiling all the same, though, because I love knowing
Gunner is thinking about me.
Over the course of the last week, he’s showered me in jewelry and
designer clothing.
Just yesterday, a man arrived with a box containing two sets of keys.
One to a Rolls Royce and one to a penthouse apartment, both of which are
waiting for me near my college campus. It’s as though I’m right on the cusp
of true adulthood and a new life is waiting for me to step into. I don’t want
to wait. If possible, I would move out of my parents’ house today, but I
have another month before I’m scheduled to move out. Eventually, I’ll have
to answer questions about my new lifestyle, but I’d like to delay that as long
as possible. There’s no way I want to rock the boat when everything is so
perfect. When my evenings belong to Gunner, just like I’ve been dreaming
about for so long.
 I bring the Cartier bag into my bedroom and close the door, pulling out
boxes one by one and gasping over the contents. A sapphire necklace, a
diamond choker, an array of tennis bracelets and cocktail rings that must
have cost him a small fortune.
I’ve just finished closing the final box when my phone rings.
Gunner.
Just like that, my body turns to molten liquid, my erogenous zones
pulsing at the memory of how he took me last night, my palms flat on the
panoramic window, dressed in nothing but five-inch heels while he grunted
and groaned, thrusting ferociously into me from behind, the force of his
drives lifting me off the ground.
Now, I roll over onto my back and let the silk material of my robe fall
open. “Papa,” I whisper into the receiver. “I miss you.”
His breath is unsteady in my ear. “I miss you, too, baby. Did you get
your presents?”
“Yes. Thank you, Gunner, they’re beautiful. My favorite is the emerald
cocktail ring. I’m already wearing it.” I look down at the hand resting on
my belly, the huge rock on top. “It matches my panties today.”
“Does it?” Was that the sound of him gulping? “Josie, I don’t think…”
His footsteps signal that he’s starting to pace. “I don’t think I can wait until
tonight to see you.”
Slowly, I sit up.
This is a first.
Gunner works like a machine during the day, taking endless meetings
and phone calls, making large-scale decisions. The fact that he’s stopping in
the middle of his work day to call me is unusual in itself, but wanting to see
me? That’s definitely unexpected.
And my heart is fluttering up into my throat.
Does this mean his feelings for me are…expanding? Getting more
serious?
Don’t make a big deal out of it. “I can bring you lunch, if you want. I’m
working on my class schedule, but I still have a few days to finalize. I need
every minute of them,” I mutter, wrinkling my nose in the direction of my
desk.
“You need help with it?” Gunner asks, then continues briskly. “Bring it
with you. We’ll work on it.”
 Okay, I can’t just let this go without comment. “You are going to cease
conquering the universe in the middle of a weekday to help me with my
class schedule?”
“Of course I am.” He pauses for an extended moment. “Josie…I am
aching.”
My lips part on a silent moan, thighs cinching together. “I ache, too,
Papa.”
His breath begins to rattle in my ear. “I’m not just talking about my
cock. I’m aching everywhere. My chest, my gut. You’ve…done something
to me. I can’t describe it. Since we agreed on you being mine, my world
looks different. I’m less cynical. Less impatient with people. I…it’s you,
Josie. You’re having this effect on me. And I want to see your beautiful face
in the daylight. I want to hold you, make you smile. Do I sound ridiculous?”
“What?” I say breathlessly, my hand pressed to my racing heart. “No.
No, you don’t sound ridiculous. You’ve done something to me, too—”
My words are interrupted by a loud knock in the background.
“Goddammit,” says Gunner. “That’s my eleven o’clock meeting.” His
voice lowers to a rasp. “You’ll be here at lunchtime?”
“Of course.”
“Thank God. I’m sending a car.”
We hang up and all I can do for several seconds is stare straight ahead,
processing everything that just occurred. Everything Gunner said. And then
I’m launching myself up off the bed with a squeal and turning in wild
circles, arms thrown out at my sides.
It’s starting to happen.
His feelings are beginning to match mine.
I’m his sugar baby, he’s my sugar daddy…but we can be more.
This is proof that he’s starting to want something real with me.
With a happy pinch in my throat, I rush to my closet to find the right
outfit for visiting…my future boyfriend? At his office. Something sexy, but
shows maturity. Something a wife would wear to have a respectable lunch
with her husband, while still wanting to make him salivate. When I spy the
black, skintight pencil skirt, I take it off the hanger and match it with black
stilettos. A silk, champagne-colored crop top that tucks into the high
waisted skirt.
Meeting my eyes in the full-length mirror, I’m surprised to find that,
despite my happiness and excitement over the recent developments with
Gunner, there’s a line of concern between my brows. Immediately, I know
it’s my guilt beginning to weigh on me. Gunner has been so open with me,
especially just now on the phone, but I’m keeping important secrets from
him? No. I can’t do it anymore. Today, I’ll come clean about everything.
My father being broke, the truth behind the email he was sent, my feelings
for him.
I’m going to lay all of my cards out on the table.

Gunner has an armed guard meet me downstairs in the lobby this time.
I’m escorted upstairs and no one is allowed into the elevator with me.
I know he’s just ensuring my safety, but I wonder if he’s aware of how
hot it makes me all over, how coveted his protectiveness makes me feel. I’m
all but melted against the wall of the elevator, fanning my fevered skin. For
someone who claims he wants to see me for more than just sex, he is really
trying to get attacked.
We arrive on the top floor and I follow the guard through a sea of
curiosity, the traders and market analysts looking up from their desks to
watch me walk to their boss’s office. Remembering Gunner’s directive from
last time, I don’t make eye contact with any of them, wanting him to be
pleased with me.
Wanting to be a good girl from the man who is so good to me.
The guard opens the door for me and I step into the crisp, dark interior
of Gunner’s space, the fire crackling straight ahead, his desk to the left. And
looking at him, I can tell immediately the eleven o’clock meeting didn’t go
like he wanted. His shoulders are all bunched up and he’s frowning at the
computer screen, hands balled in fists on the surface of his desk.
But all of that stress visibly melts away when he sees me.
“Josie,” he mouths, pushing back from his desk and standing. “Jesus.
Come here.”
I don’t hesitate. I set down my oversized bag containing his lunch and
my course paperwork, crossing the floor and walking straight into his arms.
Moaning when his hard mouth stamps down over mine, his tongue invading
the hollow of my mouth and stroking in, out, in deeper. Our bodies mold
together as if magnetized, his hands groping for my ass, lifting me roughly
against his growing erection. So good. So perfect, but if we keep this up,
I’m going to be bent over the desk within a minute—and I would love every
single second. Both of us would. But my heart came here hoping for more. I
think Gunner needs more than our physical connection, too, so when the
kiss is finished and we break for air, I give him a solemn look and start to
loosen his tie.
“I don’t like seeing you so stressed, Papa,” I pout, taking his big hand
and guiding him to the desk, pushing him back into his chair. I remove his
tie completely, dropping it into a silk pile beside his keyboard, flicking open
his top button. With a serious sniff, I collect my bag from the other side of
the room and turn, laying out what I brought. “This sandwich has all the
vitamin C and magnesium vegetables to help you de-stress.”
He looks dubious. “A vegetarian sandwich?”
“Don’t knock it until you try it. And before you assume I’m putting you
on a diet—I am certainty not, I love every sexy inch of you—there is a
giant dark chocolate bar in here, too. Also good for destressing.” I trail a
finger across his shoulder while circling around the back of him, digging
my thumbs into his muscles in a slow, relaxing massage. “Get started. I’ll
just be back here making sure my favorite man is taken care of.”
His head drops forward. “Christ, that feels so good, baby.”
My pulse pumps madly, pleasure passing through me in a wave, all the
way down to my toes. This is what I want. What I love. Taking care of him
in these small but significant ways. He likes to buy me expensive material
items and I’m the one who soothes him. Makes him better from behind the
scenes. It’s what I’ve longed for since the first time I walked past Gunner’s
office and saw him pinching the bridge of his nose, poring over endless
paperwork.
After absorbing my touch for several minutes in silence, he takes a bite
of the sandwich. “Damn,” he rumbles, examining it. “This isn’t half bad.”
I wiggle my hips triumphantly. “I’m going to have you meditating in no
time.”
He glances back at me over his shoulder. “It really bothers you, doesn’t
it? Having me so stressed out and overworked?”
Smile fading, I nod, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “I worry. A lot,” I
whisper. Wetting my lips, I search for an explanation. “For you, mostly. You
work harder than anyone. I was little, my father’s business partner would
come to the house for dinner once a week. Bunton was in his fifties, a sweet
man. Old-school finance, where my father was the young upstart. And one
day, Bunton didn’t come to dinner anymore because the stress gave him a
heart attack.” My chest starts to get crowded. “If something like that h-
happened to you—”
Gunner turns in his chair and pulls me into his lap. “It won’t, Josie.” He
kisses my mouth softly, followed by my forehead. “I won’t let it. I’m…”
Pulling back, he seems like he wants to say something important, his
complexion reddening slightly. “Let’s just say, my priorities are beginning
to…change.” Our eyes meet and the gravity in his pulls me under. “There is
more to life than working and making money, isn’t there?”
“Yes,” I whisper, holding my breath.
“I’ve made my fortune. I…have a girl I want to spend it on.” He picks
up a strand of my hair and rubs it between his fingers. “A girl I want to
spend my time with.”
My heart is poised to rejoice, until I realize…Gunner is already
spending his time and money on me. He can have both of those things while
I’m his sugar baby. He isn’t saying anything about going public with our
relationship or seriously committing. But I refuse to be disappointed. We’ve
only had a week since our arrangement started. I’m being greedy by
wanting more already. It’s my heart’s fault—it has loved him so long.
“Are you talking about me, by any chance?” I murmur, kissing his jaw
flirtatiously.
In lieu of response, Gunner slides something across his desk. A black
American Express card. “Does that answer your question, little girl?”
My body has an odd response to Gunner’s newest gift.
At first, my heart sinks, because I thought he was on the verge of
confessing real, lasting feelings for me. Instead, he’s giving me a
bottomless credit card. But oh…there is something about being spoiled
rotten that makes my flesh clench needily. There is something about being
the naughty little secret, paid for pleasure, that turns me wet and pliant. My
heart and my body are not communicating properly—and unfortunately,
right now in this dark office, sitting on the lap of this gorgeous hunk of
man, my lady business is winning the battle. Later, I might feel differently,
but right now all I can think about is pleasing my overworked sugar daddy.
Being his relief, his port in the storm of this cutthroat business.
“Thank you,” I twist my bottom on his erection. “You’re so good to
me.”
 He exhales in a rush, shaking his head. “You’re much, much better to
me.”
I bite my lip and giggle. “Papa, you sound funny.”
Gunner’s gaze flies to mine. My pulse dances dizzyingly, waiting with
bated breath for his response. He calls me little girl and I call him Papa. But
we’ve never played a game like this. Does he want to? It came so naturally
to me, I didn’t have to think about it. What if he thinks I’m weird? Twisted?
“Well…” he swallows hard. “You’re getting a little old to sit in Papa’s lap.”
I almost gasp at the inundation of lust that blares through me. What is
this? Why does it feel like we’ve been heading here all along? “Why?” I
pout. “I like sitting in your lap.”
Gunner tugs on his collar, breathing hard. “Do you feel that…hard bulge
underneath you, baby?”
Frowning thoughtfully, I wiggle around, making him hiss a curse. “Uh-
huh. What is it?”
“That’s my cock.” His index finger traces a circle on my knee. “It’s
getting harder and harder the longer you sit in my lap.”
I giggle again. “Why?”
“It knows you can make it feel good.” Very slowly, he drags my skirt up
to mid-thigh, roughly kneading the sensitive inner portion. “All kinds of
different ways.”
I try to close my thighs, but he holds them open, pulling my skirt higher
until it’s almost exposing my panties. “H-how?”
His breath saws in and out against my ear. “Just play with it a little. You
can do that for Papa, can’t you?” His middle finger presses to my entrance
through the barrier of my emerald-green underwear. “And I’ll play with this
sweet little treasure.”
He gently shifts me to his left thigh, so he can unzip his pants, his
erection pushing out, thick and ready, though still trapped inside his black
briefs. “I don’t know how, Papa.”
Quickly, he uses the wrist of his sleeve to swipe at the sweat forming on
his upper lip. “Stroke it like you would pet a kitten.” Without waiting, he
snags my hand and guides it to his arousal, grunting a curse when my touch
finds him, testing him curiously. “Don’t you want to see what happens
when you pet it long enough, baby?”
I gasp excitedly, my palm beginning to rake up and down his steel shaft.
“What happens?” The pads of Gunner’s fingers find my clitoris and I
whimper, squirming on his thigh as if confused by the sensation coursing
through me. “What’s h-happening to me?”
His mouth is open on my neck, his fingers delving down the front of my
panties, parting my wet folds and rubbing, rubbing on that sensitive spot.
“When we feel good between our legs, we come, little girl. We release. It’s
the best feeling you can have—and do you know what it tastes like when
Papa comes from his cock?”
“What?” I ask, wide-eyed, squirming through his touch.
“It tastes like candy.”
I suck in a breath, my legs literally trembling with excitement, my core
clenching tighter and tighter with every knowing stroke of his fingers.
“Candy?” I slide my hand into his briefs, fisting his bare erection. Pumping
my fist up and down the length. “Can I taste some?”
“Only if you’re a good girl,” he says roughly. “Only if you suck as hard
as you can and swallow the candy down. All of it.”
“I will, Papa. I promise,” I say solemnly, sliding off his desk to the
space between his splayed thighs. This isn’t the first time I’ve taken Gunner
into my mouth, but I pretend it is. I examine his swollen inches with
youthful apprehension, kissing the trunk cautiously, before closing my
mouth over the bulbous head and swirling my tongue around it,
experimentally.
“Oh, fuck yes, baby,” he growls, twining his fingers in my hair. “Suck
the candy out.”
Flashing him a look that says I’m excited for candy, I pull a significant
portion of him into my mouth, fisting the enormous base to hold him steady,
stroking upward with a twisting wrist. His huge balls fall through the V of
his pants and I take a moment to suck the left one into my mouth, tonguing
it lovingly, like he instructed me to do the first time, my hand still riding up
and down his sex, now lubricated by my saliva. I lick over to his right ball
and give it the same reverent treatment, glorying in the way his thick thighs
jolt, his hips shifting anxiously.
“It’s going to taste so good.” He tugs down my chin, his lower body
rolling forward, teeth clenched. “Just try and fit a little more—”
A low buzz goes off in the room. “Mr. Kraft. John Lancaster is here to
see you.”
I freeze in place with Gunner halfway down my throat. He goes very
still, too, before dragging his erection from my mouth with a shaking hand,
shoving it back into his pants. “Goddammit. What the hell is your father
doing here?”
“I-I don’t know…”
I start to crawl out from behind the desk, but Gunner shakes his head.
“There’s nowhere in here to hide and he’ll see you if you leave, Josie. You
have to stay put. There’s no choice.”
Hide.
There’s no choice.
There is a choice, though. He could come clean to my father about us.
We could explain to my father that we have feelings for each other. Instead,
I’m being kept hidden like a dirty secret. And I can’t help what the
clandestine nature of our trysts does to my body. Our dynamic, our secrecy,
makes me undeniably hot. But it’s a little too real, too symbolic, being kept
stuffed beneath a desk. A little too patronizing.
To his credit, Gunner looks conflicted, even guilty, like he wants to say
something. But there’s no time. He barely manages to get his pants zipped
when the office door opens.
“Gunner,” my father says, his tone jocular. “It’s been too long. How
have you been?”
A creak tells me my father has taken a seat in front of the desk. Literally
a foot away from the back of my head. “John,” Gunner says, his tone flat.
“How is business these days?”
“Incredible. Just incredible.” He clears his throat hard, a sign that he’s
lying—I know it well. “I took a meeting down the street and I thought, hey,
why not stop by and set up a round of golf with my old buddy? Want to hit
the green tomorrow morning?”
“Tomorrow morning.” Now it’s Gunner’s turn to clear his throat, but
unlike my father, he’s not lying. I can see it in his eyes when he glances
down at me briefly. The regret and apology lurking there. “I, uh…I can’t.
I’m going out of town tonight. Through the weekend.”
My heart stutters in my chest, suffering.
When he called me this morning, I thought he was on the verge of
professing his affection for me. Instead, I’m hiding under a desk and finding
out that he has plans to leave town. Plans he told me nothing about. Am I so
insignificant to him?
Maybe this relationship really is all about sex.
 Maybe I’m expected to shut my mouth and take what he gives me. Be
happy with it.
Screw that.
Coming forward on my knees, I reach between Gunner’s thighs and
unzip his pants. He didn’t have time to pull up his briefs, so his swollen
manhood bobs free immediately, still rock hard from my mouth’s treatment.
He gives me a warning look from above and I pass him a tart one in return,
wrapping my lips around his stiffness and deep throating him.
Gunner chokes a sound, his hand pressing my head down into his lap
for one, two, three seconds, before he releases me, breathing raggedly.
“Are you all right over there, man?” asks my father.
“I’m fine,” Gunner responds unevenly. “Just some heartburn from
lunch.”
“Ah, right.” My father laughs. “I know all about that affliction. So,
about golf…would Monday afternoon work better for you?”
Gunner can’t formulate a response, because I’m riding my eager mouth
up and down his pulsing length, scraping my teeth over his sensitized tip,
before letting him invade my throat. He once again holds me there, in place,
longer this time, his big belly shuddering, his balls hauling up tight to my
chin. “Fuck. Schedule,” he heaves, swallowing. “Let me uh…”
His hand fumbles with the mouse and buys him some time as he looks
at the screen without really seeing it, his manhood disappearing in and out
of my mouth, faster and faster, his free hand tugging me, tugging me, my
hands twisting up and down the thick pole, the color of it deepening with
every suck.
“Monday works.” Gunner abandons the mouse, reaches across the desk
and shakes his hand. “I’ll see you then. Got some work to finish up here—”
“Say no more. I won’t keep you.”
Determined to make Gunner come before my father leaves, wanting to
be acknowledged in some way, any way, I hold my breath and take him past
my gag reflex, waiting, waiting, longer than my usual few seconds. Ten
seconds, eleven. I swallow, squeezing him with the walls of my throat. And
Gunner spews. He rifles his hips forward and fucks my mouth once,
ferociously, his guttural growl filling the office. Warm, salty liquid travels
down, my inner thighs moist from my own need, my infatuation with this
man forcing me to consume every single drop. Needing all of it. All of him.
 “Ooh boy. Better take care of that heartburn. Sounds like a nasty case,”
my father says, getting up from the chair, his footsteps carrying him across
the room. “See you Monday.”
As soon as the door closes, Gunner yanks me to my feet. Picks me up
and drops me down on the desk, getting right in my face. I think he’s going
to lecture me, get angry with me, maybe even end our relationship for being
so indiscreet—and I brace myself.
Instead, he growls, “You beautiful little brat,” and seals his mouth over
mine, kissing me like tomorrow morning will never come. “Jesus Christ. I
ought to spank you silly.”
I moan and tip my head back, allowing him to lick and suck my neck,
welcoming his bulk into the V of my thighs. “Why aren’t you?”
His hand grips my throat unexpectedly. “God help me, I…” His eyes
glitter wildly. “I wanted to look him in the eye while claiming you. I’m
your Papa. Not him. You’re my little girl. Not his. I don’t care if that makes
me fucking sick. That’s the way it is.”
“I don’t care either,” I whisper, shaken, slipping past infatuation,
straight into obsession. Despite my hurt. Despite my wishes for us to be
more. I force myself to accept this as enough for now. Knowing Gunner is
mine. That I’m his. That at least we know that as fact.
My heart twists in my chest, yearning for more, though.
And I ignore it for now, but I’m afraid I won’t be able to much longer.
Maybe not even one more day.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the business trip,” he says, kissing my
mouth passionately, fingers combing through my hair. “It’s why I was so
stressed when you got here. I don’t want to leave you, baby. I was arranging
to bring you along, but Paul asked to come. I’ve been gone every night,
with you at the hotel. Absent. I couldn’t say no to him.”
“I understand,” I whisper, reveling in the mauling of my mouth, his
hands all over me, groping my bottom and breasts and hips. “I understand,
Papa.”
That’s not a lie. I do understand. The last thing I want is for Gunner to
neglect my best friend. But nothing about his explanation repairs my
flagging heart.
Groaning over my use of the word Papa, Gunner sits back in his chair
and strips my skirt down to the floor, his erection already stiffening again in
his lap, his eyes wild on my wet, green panties. “Get on and ride it,” he
growls. “Remind me again that I’m the luckiest man alive.”
And dutifully, I do. I ride him until his eyes roll back in his head, until
my own orgasm blinds me, our flesh slapping roughly in the silence of the
office, the words I love you lodged in my throat, begging to be let out.
OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER SEVEN

Gunner

Something is wrong.
The first couple days of my business trip, Josie is her usual, incredible
self when I call her at night or between meetings. Her voice is soft and
inviting in my ear, she tells me she misses me, asks if I’m taking stress
breaks. Late at night, she sends me mirror selfies from our hotel suite
wearing nothing but a scrap of yellow material that vaguely resembles
panties—and purrs to me over the speakerphone while I jack myself raw in
the bathroom.
But at some point, her tone loses its usual brightness. She sounds almost
sad? Although she won’t tell me why so I can fix it. No amount of gifts sent
to her doorstep seems to help. Finally, she stops answering my calls
altogether. I can’t concentrate on a single thing. I can’t think about anything
but her, replaying our last ten conversations, trying to figure out if I missed
something. How the hell have I fucked this up so fast?
I miss her. Beyond belief. I’m sick without her.
I was an idiot to think I could spend this much time away from Josie
and not go berserk.
For someone so worried about giving me a heart attack, she’s certainly
got the damn thing firing on all cylinders in my chest. Good thing Paul
almost never looks up from his phone or he would notice that I’m sweating
bullets, even in the air conditioning of the charter club. As we wait to board
my jet, my insides are in shreds. I’ve pulled some strings and sent a local
cop to make sure Josie is safe and she’s fine. Swimming in her lavish pool,
meeting friends for lunch, going to the gym and the beach. Usual summer
activities. Nothing that would prevent her from answering my calls, though.
If I don’t hold her soon, I’m going to lose my head.
Unfortunately, a storm keeps us grounded half of Sunday night. By the
time we’re able to fly safely, it’s Monday morning and my assistant calls to
remind me of the round of golf I have schedule with John, Josie’s father, in
just a few hours. There’s no way I can make it. I’m tied in knots and my
legs feel like lead—not the ideal condition for a friendly golf game.
After we land, I call John to cancel from the tarmac.
My plan is to take Paul home and track down Josie.
I need to understand what’s wrong and repair it. I need her to climb into
my lap and whisper into my neck and make me feel whole. She’s the only
one who does.
I’m in love with her.
Jesus.
I’m in love with this eighteen-year-old who’s been coming to my house
since middle school, who has transformed into a young adult. I’m in love
with her unique perspective, the way she cares, her giggle, her touch, her
spontaneity and optimism. She’s my little girl. She’s my…girlfriend. She’s
mine. Why the hell has she cut me off?
John answers in my ear as I’m handing my luggage to our driver and
climbing into the back of the limousine. “Hello, John—”
“I’m throwing the ol’ clubs into my trunk as we speak,” he says. “Our
tee time at the club is eleven fifteen.”
“Yeah,” I sigh, rubbing my gritty eyes with my thumb and index finger.
Paul slept on the flight, but I couldn’t manage to close my eyes for a
second. “Listen, about our game—”
“Bring Paul along, if you can. Josie is going to be there later on. They
can hang out at the pool while we hit some balls.”
My mouth snaps shut on the news that I can’t make it.
Josie is going to be at the country club.
My entire objective today is to get her in front of me. To demand to
know what I’ve done and how I can make it up to her. If the conversation
has to happen at the country club, so be it. I don’t care who knows about us
anymore. In fact, I’m going to tell her father face to face. There will be
some outrage and gossiping and a tough reaction from Paul, but Josie is
more than worth it. I’m going to have her in my life forever. The sooner
people start getting used to seeing this old ogre with his beautiful, young
angel, the better. I’m in love with this girl. Real, heart-rending love that I’ve
never experienced before—and I’m not willing to let her go.
With Paul’s agreement, we land and go straight to the club.
I’m like a caged animal as soon as we’re dropped off at the entrance, an
attendant bustling around me, informing me they’ve coordinated with my
housekeeper to have my golf clubs and attire brought to the club and have
arranged it all in the locker room. Paul quickly throws on a pair of trunks
and heads to the pool, throwing me a wave. Instead of going in the direction
of the course, I follow behind Paul and—from a distance—look for Josie at
the pool, but I don’t see her. Is she changing? Or avoiding me?
John claps me on the shoulder. “Hey, buddy. Ready to go?”
I turn to find Josie’s father there, looking oddly nervous, his cart idling
behind him. Given no choice, I nod. “Yeah,” I grunt, taking a seat in the
passenger side. “Let’s go.”
At the very least, this round of golf will give me a chance to explain my
relationship with Josie. Getting into her pretty little head will have to wait a
few hours, until we’re done with the front nine and stop for a break.
We tee off and make small talk while playing the first two holes. It’s
while we’re preparing to begin hole three that I figure out why John is
nervous. Why he wanted to play golf with me—on a Monday—in the first
place. And it’s for a reason I never could have suspected.
“Listen, man.” He swallows, looks around. “I’ve gotten myself into
kind of a jam. I had three bad quarters in a row. I managed to pad the fund’s
earnings with my own money, make it look like we’re above water, but the
truth is…I’m sinking. I’m fucked.” To my utter shock, tears spring to the
man’s eyes. “We’re going to lose the house. Josie…she’s running around
getting ready for college. She must think I’ll be able to come up with the
tuition—”
“Josie knows you’re broke?” I ask hollowly.
John nods sadly. “I told her a month ago school might not happen. For
some reason, she insists on proceeding as if she’ll move out in the fall,
attend the university.” He rakes a hand through his hair. “Maybe she’s in
denial.”
 No.
She’s not in denial.
She found a desperate old man to pay her way.
And as soon as she got enough money together for tuition, she dropped
me.
Christ, that’s what happened, isn’t it? None of her affection was real.
She needed cash. Fast.
I was the perfect target. Old, overweight, horny. Grateful for the chance
to fuck something so young and tight. Desperate to soak up her light.
My chest is on the verge of caving in and John is still talking.
Asking me to bail him out.
“Enough,” I rasp, hating him mid-sentence. “I’m not throwing gasoline
on a sinking ship. But we’ll absorb your firm, slash the fat and keep what’s
working right. You’ll receive slightly more than what the company is worth,
since we go back a long time. I’ll give you a seat on the board of directors,
but before any of this happens, my accountant is going through your
personal finances, along with those of the firm. No surprises.”
John grinds his jaw. “You’re a hard man.” He stares off into the distance
for a moment, then offers his hand for a shake. “But a fair one. Thank you.”
I’m doing this for Josie.
I’d do anything for her, even though she has ripped my heart out of my
chest.
She played me.
The part I don’t understand is this. Why did she suffer through all those
nights together when I would have just paid her tuition? As a friend and
father figure? I never would have let her miss out on college. She didn’t
have to sacrifice her virginity to my ugly ass.
John and I agree that we’re not really in the mood to continue the game
and go back to the clubhouse. When we reach the establishment, he leaves
to meet with the house pro about one of his clubs and we make plans to
have a drink together in an hour. My throat is ravaged on the inside, the
bleak exhaustion I used to feel every day before Josie became my sugar
baby creeping back in.
I take a seat on the shaded outdoor patio and order a double scotch,
neat, still reeling from the revelation that she never really cared for me at
all. She faked everything.
 God, I want to claw the pathetic organ out of my chest, it aches so
fucking bad.
And then I see her at the pool.
In a little white thong bikini.
My hand balls into a shaking fist as I look around and realize every man
in the place is staring at her. Ogling that hot little tush and adjusting
themselves.
“Damn, is that really Lancaster’s kid?” one of them says to his friend,
smacking his lips. “She grew up nice.”
“Jesus, you’re not kidding. Too bad she isn’t poor or I’d be shelling out
six figures for a ride of that.”
“Hell yeah, man. Twice on Sunday.”
They dissolve into laughter and the rage in my blood boils over. I push
back from my table, upsetting my scotch and grip the closest asshole by his
collar. “Watch your fucking mouths,” I growl, yanking the offender to his
feet, watching the color drain from his face when he sees who was within
earshot. A family friend of the Lancasters, yes, but also the man who could
buy and sell the entire club without blinking an eye. “Don’t look at her.
Don’t ever speak about her again or I’ll end you.”
The man starts to apologize, but changes his mind when he realizes
several men are witnessing his humiliation, forcing him to double down.
“Right. Like you wouldn’t pay to hit that, Kraft.”
It burns worse, because he’s right.
Not only would I pay, but I did. Eagerly. Anything she wanted.
All so she would give me her perfect touch. Her time and attention.
And God, I would do it all over again, wouldn’t I?
Still, there’s no way I’m letting this pissant get away with talking about
Josie in public like she’s an object. That’s not happening. But just as I rear
back with a fist, intending to plow it into his smug face, I hear Josie’s voice
behind me.
“Gunner!” I glance back over my shoulder to find her visibly alarmed,
standing among the patio lechers, pool water dripping down her young
body. “S-stop. What are you doing?”
“Go back to the pool,” I growl through my teeth.
“No.” She pads closer, barefoot, attempting to pry me and the man
apart, no idea that she’s being gawked at in her sorry excuse for a bathing
suit. “Stop this, Gunner. No fighting.” Her breath hitches, tears turning her
eyes to twin blue pools. “Y-you promised you were managing your stress
—”
“Don’t do that,” I snap. “Don’t pretend like you give a shit. That ship
has sailed.”
Josie flinches and drops her hands, bottom lip trembling as she backs
away. What the hell? Is she playing mind games with me? This girl made
me believe she cared, then ripped the rug out from under my feet. And she
has the nerve to appear hurt by my harshness?
Still, when she turns and runs off, around the side of the clubhouse, my
pounding heart gives me no choice but to follow. I don’t care that she broke
me in half, I loathe seeing her upset and I refuse to be the cause.
I let go of the pissant and start to follow Josie, until he says, “Damn,
maybe Kraft is already hitting that?” His face is bright red from being
manhandled, but he’s not listening to his friend’s advice about not
provoking me. “Making the Forbes list gets you the best pussy, I guess.”
Without missing a beat, I take one step and headbutt him, breaking his
nose and dropping him to the ground, unconscious. “Anyone else have
something to say?” I roar.
“No, Kraft.”
“He was out of line, Kraft.”
“I don’t even know him very well.”
Disgusted by the utter cowardice, I shake off the whole situation and
follow after Josie, desperate to see her and apologize for snapping. She
doesn’t deserve that. She must have been terrified at the prospect of not
attending college with all of her friends. Forget what that would have done
to her reputation. How can I blame her for finding a way to pay tuition?
How can I blame her for taking aim at an easy target?
Me.
I find her around the back of the club, across an expanse of green field,
sitting in a gazebo, arms wrapped around her middle. Alone. This section of
the country club is mainly used for weddings. I’ve attended many of them.
But on a Monday afternoon, there is no activity to be seen, except for me
striding across the lawn toward this teenager I’ve fallen crazy in love with.
This teenager who has completely wrecked me.
“Josie,” I say, stepping into the gazebo, bringing her head up. “I’m
sorry.”
She sniffs, wiping at her eyes, but doesn’t say anything.
 “I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. You’ve done nothing wrong.”
Jesus, I’m trying very hard to keep my voice even, to keep my hands to
myself, but the girl I’ve been craving like oxygen for three days is right in
front of me, her supple tits barely covered by two little triangles, her pussy
cupped lovingly by wet bottoms. Her mouth is on level with my cock and I
can only replay the dozen or so times she greeted me at the hotel suite by
unbuckling my belt and sucking me off. The memories make me hard and I
have no means of hiding it, my stiffening shaft drawing her blue eyes,
making her mouth part on a breath.
“Gunner,” she whispers, eyelashes fluttering. Teeth sinking into her lip.
Mannerisms that used to signal she was horny.
No. No, I’m not being drawn in. I’m not going to be a fool a second
time. She doesn’t have genuine desire for me. It was always about the
money.
“Why didn’t you tell me your father was broke?”
Gasping, she shoots to her feet.
She sways and I catch her up against me, so she won’t fall, swallowing
a groan over the perfect contact, the smoothness of her skin, the way her
little tits smash to my big chest.
“H-how did you find out?”
“He told me.” I brush a hand down her wet hair. “It’s going to be fine,
Josie. You don’t have to worry one more day. I’m going to take care of
everything.” With determination, refusal to force her any more into
touching me, I take my hands off of her and back away.
For some reason, that distresses her. She makes a hiccupping sound and
clutches the front of my shirt, pulling me back. Confusing the hell out of
me.
“Baby, you don’t have to sleep with me anymore. You never had to in
the first place. I would have taken care of the tuition, no questions asked.”
She shakes her head a little frantically, forehead knitting together. “No.
Gunner, no. You have the wrong idea.” Her hands run up and down my
chest. “I wanted to sleep with you. I wanted so much more—”
“Josie, stop.” I pry her wrists away from me, even though her touch is
bringing me back to life. I can’t allow it. Can’t allow her to feel obligated.
“You can thank me with words. You don’t have to sacrifice your body. I’m
sorry you felt like you had no other choice—”
 Her mouth pushes up against mine from below, then higher when she
rises up on her tiptoes, wrapping her arms around my neck. I’m not
expecting the kiss, it shocks me to my core, but my reaction to it is no
surprise. I’m a fiend for this girl. My dick is in launch position like the
space shuttle, my tongue eagerly tasting her mouth, my hands reuniting
with the taut curve of her butt cheeks, giving them one hungry squeeze,
before making one last-ditch effort to back off. To do the right thing.
She doesn’t let me.
Never taking her mouth off mine, Josie perches a knee on my hip and
uses it as leverage to squirm up the front of my body, manacling her legs
around my waist, our mouths turning wild. Tongues clashing and
smoothing, lips slanting. I’m a man who never expected to see the sun again
and suddenly finds himself on a white-sand beach, my obsession with Josie
giving me no choice but to take, to kiss her back with every ravenous notion
inside of me, my fingers untying her bikini top in back, tossing it away so I
can rake my tongue across her perky little nipples.
“Gunner,” she whines, head falling back. “How can you think I don’t
really want you?” Her dazed bedroom eyes lock on mine, her pussy
rubbing, rubbing on my erect dick. “Fuck me, Papa,” she whines. “I need
your come so bad.”
“No…” I search for my conscience, but it’s diminished in the path of
her sensuality. In the path of my devotion to her. “Josie, you don’t have to.”
“I want to,” she sobs, dropping her right hand to my belt, tearing leather
through buckle, button through hole. “You’ll believe me when you feel how
wet I am.”
“You were swimming,” I say raggedly, sucking her nipples into my
mouth, one by one.
“No!” She slaps me across the face. “It’s for you.”
“Liar,” I bite out, directly against her lips, losing control. Yeah, it’s
gone. She’s a little brat who has slapped her Papa and now she needs secret
punishing. I jerk down my zipper, using the stiff head of my cock to shove
aside the crotch of her bathing suit bottoms, finding her warm and soaked,
her little hole clenching excitedly.
What if…what if she’s really wet for me?
No. No, I refuse to be a fool again.
I’ve known from the beginning there is only one way I get to tap a
beauty like this—and it’s money. “A million dollars,” I say thickly, working
in the first few inches of my dick, a groan building in my chest. Tight. So
fucking tight. “I’ll give you a million dollars a ride. Just don’t leave me high
and dry, baby. I need it. I need this pussy.” I thrust all the way in and she
whimpers, even as her eyes cloud over with dismay. Dismay that is quickly
gone once I start to bounce her, rifling up into her hot channel with
animalistic bucks of my hips.
Using my shoulders as a hand-hold, she leans back, giving me a view of
my thick man’s shaft, surrounded by salt and pepper hair, driving into her
tiny blonde sex, her soaked bathing suit panties pushed just to the right. It’s
enough to send me racing for the peak, grunting, sweating, yanking her up
and down on my veiny shaft, her ass cheeks clutched in my hands.
“Fuck,” I push between my teeth, sliding my right hand over slightly to
finger her back entrance. “Two million for the ass. Ten. I’ll do anything.”
Josie molds our fronts together again, rasping in my ear, “You get it for
free, Papa.”
Ah, Jesus. I’m jackhammering her now, her dangling heels hitting off
the backs of my knees, my pants down around my ankles. My balls are
heavier than boulders and despite my common sense, possessiveness is
turning like a crank in my chest. My gut. Claim, claim, claim.
“If you weren’t on the pill…” I rear back and slap her ass. Twice. “I’d
get you pregnant for wearing that goddamn bathing suit.”
There’s a new, excited light in her eyes when they lock on mine, her
breath racing fast, so fast. “I stopped taking m-my pill this weekend,” she
whispers, searching my face. “I know it’s bad. I know that makes me a bad
girl. But I want your baby, Papa. I want a part of you inside of me. I need
it.”
It’s the image of Josie, belly round with my child, that decimates me.
Snaps my tether.
“Oh Christ,” I choke, my balls contracting, unloading their contents.
Firing hot, heavy lust up the stalk of my shaft and spurting it into Josie, my
hips slamming upward like pistons, her cunt slapping wetly on my lap.
Imagining she’s telling the truth, that she really stopped taking her pill. That
she wants to get pregnant. By me. I imagine she really means it and she’s
not just saying the perfect thing to get me off, earning every penny of her
million. I imagine that she wants to be my wife and it sets me off again,
forcing me to lunge forward, grinding her ass against the gazebo wall with
my hips so I can come as deeply as possible, her pussy massaging me with
naughty ripples. “Good, baby. Work it out of me. Get yourself nice and
bred.”
Her luscious body jolts at the word bred, and she whines my name,
climaxing around my still-thrusting cock, her nails tearing at the front of my
shirt. “Papa, Papa, Papa.”
Josie slumps against me a few seconds later, her face fitting into my
neck, my cock still lodged in her tightness. I’m dripping onto the floor of
the gazebo, my breath scratching in and out of my lungs, but I savor this
moment to hold her. I accept it gratefully, knowing it won’t last. Not until I
cave in and offer her money. God help me, I’ll hand her my whole fortune
to feel like this, even if it’s a lie.
She lifts her head and spears me with a look, urgency filling her
expression. “Gunner—”
“What the hell is going on here?”
My shoulders stiffen at the sound of John’s voice, coming from just
outside the gazebo.
Christ.
I haven’t given a thought to our surroundings. There was only Josie.
But now…I can imagine what John is seeing. My pants around my
ankles, his teenage daughter’s legs wrapped around my waist, my cock
tucked up in her petite pussy. If the situation were reversed, I would
strangle him to death. That’s what I deserve, isn’t it?
The color has drained from Josie’s face, but I give her a nudge and she
quickly drops her legs from around my hips, pulling her bathing suit
bottoms back into place and putting the top back on. Slowly, I zip back in
my pants and turn to face red-faced John.
“I can’t believe this,” he says, staggering back. And then, horror dawns
on his face. “This is why she’s been acting like college is still a given.
You’re paying for it?” He shakes his head, putting more pieces together.
“And this is what you’re getting in exchange. Isn’t it, you sick fuck?”
“Dad, stop,” Josie says, positioning half of her body behind me, her
hand curling into mine. “You don’t understand.”
“No, daughter, you don’t understand. Money buys men like this
whatever he wants.” He sneers at me. “He’d never get laid otherwise.”
“Dad!”
“No, he’s right.” I have difficulty swallowing, heat climbing the back of
my neck. “This is just an arrangement.” I have no delusions that she wants
me in real life.
“Just an arrangement?” Josie cries out, moving to stand in front of me,
the tears back in her eyes. “Maybe for you it is. But I’ve been in love with
you since I was twelve. Minute after hour after year, I loved you and ached
for the day I would be old enough to be with you.” She shoves me in the
chest, but I don’t move. All I can do is stand there and stare at her,
dumbfounded. In love with me? This girl is in love with me? “I’m the one
who sent you that email. With the link to the sugar babies website. I was
begging you to see me as a woman. To…give in. To let me in. I thought…I
thought if you could just spend some time with me, you would love me
back.” She breaks into an awful, gulping sob that tears my heart straight
down the middle. “This is my fault. I didn’t know how else to pay for
college without exposing my dad and now you’ll never believe me. You
think I’m j-just with you for money—and that’s all you want from me. An
arrangement.” She starts to back away. “I was wrong to think you could feel
the same. I was an idiot.”
Without waiting another second, she turns and runs, out of the gazebo,
past her father and onto the lawn. “Josie!” I shout, my voice emerging
strangled, my blood frozen solid.
I’ve been in love with you since I was twelve.
I’ve been in love with you since I was twelve.
I think of all the times she spent trying to talk to me in the kitchen,
instead of being in the den or the backyard with her friends. All the times
she snuck into my office and made me laugh, brought me a bowl of
something healthy to eat. And as she got older, the way she made me notice,
dragging her body against mine at every available opportunity, hope in her
big blue eyes. Somehow, despite our ages and the difference in our
appearances, she’s loved me all along. And I’ve just reduced her to a high-
priced escort, instead of the girl who should be my wife. What have I done?
What the hell have I done?
“Josie!” I shout again, stomping out of the gazebo and going after her.
As soon as I get a hold of her, I’m going to apologize, over and over and
over—and then I’m going to put a diamond on her finger the size of fucking
Texas. My steps falter when I realize she wasn’t lying about stopping the
pill, wanting to carry my baby. Goddamn me for pushing her to such drastic
measures to make me realize we should be together.
I’ll never forgive myself.
 Ignoring her father trying to get my attention, I jog to the parking lot—
just in time to watch Josie peel out in the Rolls I gave her, tears streaming
down her face.
“Josie, stop!”
Either she doesn’t hear me or simply disobeys, continuing out of the
parking lot.
And I’m already shouting at the valet to have my limousine brought
around.
I’m going to win my girl back.
Now.
Today.
My sanity won’t be able to stand another minute of knowing I upset her,
broke her heart. That I refused to see what was right there in front of me.
But if she’ll take me back, if she’ll forgive me for being a blind fool, I’ll
spend the rest of my life making it up to her, so help me God.
OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER EIGHT

Josie

I’m never leaving my bedroom again.

Maybe I’m not ready for adulthood or college or big decisions. Maybe
I’m just a stupid, eighteen-year-old kid. What was I thinking, trying to
scheme Gunner into a relationship? He doesn’t want a child for a girlfriend.
Sex is one thing, but going public when his persona is so important to his
multi-billion-dollar company? I was naïve to think that was ever a
possibility.
Still wearing my bikini, I roll over and bury my face in a pillow. It’s wet
from my tears and I dive headlong into another crying jag now, the sound
muffled.
I miss Gunner.
I love him so much.
Even now I could be carrying his baby. What a scandal that would be.
I’m sure if I’m pregnant, it’ll be kept hush hush and I’ll be shuttled abroad
somewhere until I can deliver the baby, passing it off as a distant relative or
something. Or maybe Gunner will want full custody. Who is going to fight
him when I’m the teenager who tricked him into sleeping with me? Into…
everything. He never cared deeply about me. It was all in my eager
imagination.
And I deserve this. To be alone and humiliated.
 I lied to him.
I manipulated him into a sexual relationship with me after he explicitly
said no.
But I just thought…I swore if we just had some time together as adults,
the love inside me would be contagious. It’s so big and mighty. How can it
not be?
While Gunner was away on his business trip, I started to doubt my
dreams. I started wondering if being with Gunner, as his real girlfriend, was
far-fetched. It made me so depressed, so nervous, I stopped answering his
calls—and then when I saw him at the country club, I immediately called
myself a moron for not spending every single second possible with him, in
any capacity I can get. But the consequences of those lies were beginning to
come to a head, making him doubt my intentions. Making him doubt me. I
waited too long to tell the truth and there is nothing I can do to fix the
damage I’ve done.
He must hate me.
Or he’s laughing at me, thinking my love is nothing more than a crush.
And worse, I’ve made things awkward between Gunner and my father,
to say nothing of how I’ll ever look my father in the eye again after he
caught me and Gunner having sex. Paul will probably hate me—and who
can blame him? I’ve let my infatuation, my obsession with this man turn me
into a liar. A girl who will stop at nothing to get what she wants.
I bolt upright in bed when my phone starts to vibrate on the bed beside
my hip. Reaching down, I pick it up, wincing when I see Paul’s name on the
screen. I’m definitely about to get an earful, but it’s going to happen
sometime, isn’t it? Might as well be now.
With a blown-out breath, I answer the phone. “Paul…I’m sorry. I—”
“Can you come downstairs?”
I swipe at my red nose. “So you can yell at me in person?”
He sighs and it turns into a quiet laugh. “Just come down here.”
The call ends and I stare at the device in trepidation a moment, before
climbing off the bed and slipping a white summer dress over my bikini,
sliding my feet into sandals. I catch a glimpse of my tear-stained face in the
mirror on my way out, but no amount of makeup is going to fix it. There is
no one waiting in the foyer, so I open the door myself and come face to face
with my best friend on the marble staircase.
“Hey,” I say miserably.
 Paul shakes his head, a hard gleam in his eye. “What were you
thinking?”
“I don’t know.” My voice is unbalanced. “It started out as a crush on
your dad, but then it just…snowballed. And then I couldn’t breathe unless I
saw him at least once a day—”
“Gross. Look, is he the reason you’re friends with me?”
My chest seizes with disbelief. “What?” I reach out and grab his arm.
“No. No! Oh my God, of course not. You’re my best friend because I adore
you. I would never use you like that. I’m sorry…I’m sorry you’re doubting
me—”
“Shut up, I’m not,” he interrupts, rolling his eyes. “Not really. I just had
to make sure you love me as much as you should.”
“I do.”
“Just in very different way than you love my father.” He shakes his
head. “It’s going to take a long time for me to get used to saying that.”
My heart sinks down to my knees. “I don’t think you’ll have to get used
to anything. He’s never going to want to see me again.”
Paul places a hand on my shoulder and squeezes. “Don’t be so sure.” He
tugs me toward the steps where his car is waiting below. “Come on, weepy
face.”
I sputter in confusion. “Where are we going?”
He doesn’t answer, simply opening the passenger side door and
gesturing for me to get in. Hope starts to flicker inside of me, but I douse
the flame immediately, afraid how crushed I’ll be if Gunner isn’t on the
other side of this car ride. Still, without any keys or even my phone, I move
as if in a trance, getting into the car and fastening my seatbelt.
We drive into the city, the radio playing softly, the air conditioning
raising goosebumps on my skin. My best friend has essentially forgiven me
for keeping my relationship with his father a secret—I’ve already gotten a
better outcome than I deserve. I’m trying to suppress any more dangerous
hope from rising to the surface, but the closer we get to our destination, the
tighter my throat gets. Especially when we drive right past the hotel where
Gunner and I met every night for one glorious week.
“Where are you taking me?”
Giving me a cheeky look, he doesn’t answer. But then he parks in front
of Wonderbluss. The art installation center I took Gunner to on our first
night together. There is no way Paul could know the significance of this
place unless Gunner told him.
My heart pumps wildly in my ribcage, my fingers curling around the
doorhandle. “Is he in there?” I sob. “Does he forgive me?”
“Oh, I’d say that’s a safe bet.”
With a shocked and relieved whimper, I throw myself out of the car and
go running. I start to open the door of Wonderbluss, but someone opens it
for me first. It’s my…father? And my mother is standing behind him. They
both look a little shaken, but happily resigned, nonetheless.
And they’re dressed up.
My father is in a suit and tie, my mother in black Versace.
“I made a mess of things,” I say, haltingly. “I should have told you the
truth.”
“We all make mistakes—I know that better than anyone,” my father
sighs, his mouth ticking up at one corner. “Luckily, not all mistakes lead to
ruin.”
I swallow. “I’m sorry you saw…what you saw.”
“How about we just pretend that never happened, huh?” We both laugh
a little uncomfortably, stopping when he jerks his head at the velvet curtain
separating the entrance from the art installations. “Orange door.”
With a happy, watery laugh, I give my parents hugs and dash toward the
curtain, throwing myself through it into the hallway. I don’t bother trying to
smooth my hair or get the wrinkles out of my dress. I only care about
getting through the orange door. To Gunner. I miss him so much, I barely
feel human. I need his hands on me, need to hear his voice.
I expect him to be standing on the other side of the orange door.
But I never could have expected to walk into the hillside of swaying
cherry blossom trees to find Gunner in a tuxedo, a pastor holding a bible to
his left. Gunner’s head lifts at my entrance, his expression transforming
with love, with worship. For me. I can’t believe it.
And taking one step, two, I realize I’m walking down the aisle to my
own wedding.
My hands fly to my mouth to trap a sob, blossom petals falling all
around me. Hot tears rush to my eyes. I can’t stand another single second of
being apart from Gunner—and I run to him, leaping into his arms. Burying
my face in his neck and circling my legs around his hips, letting him hold
me like a baby while I cry.
 “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
Gunner makes a sound of disbelief. “You’re sorry? Josie, I’ve been a
goddamn idiot. I should have known there was more to us than an
arrangement. I should have trusted my gut, that we were right together,
instead of unknowingly pushing you away. You needed love, not gifts. If
you’d gone…baby, if I’d lost you, that would have been the end of me.” His
hard mouth rakes over my ear, a shudder passing through his big body. “I’ll
be grateful for the rest of my life that you went to such lengths to get my
attention. Or I never would have admitted how much I love you. How badly
I need you. If you lied, Josie, you only did it for us, so there will be no more
apologizing. My wife doesn’t apologize for anything.”
Wife.
With my heart performing cartwheels in my chest, I curl my body more
securely around him, vaguely aware of my parents and Paul entering the
room, standing at the perimeter. “You really w-want to marry me?”
He pulls back and looks me in the eye, stroking a loving hand down the
side of my face. “My life won’t be complete otherwise.” His voice shakes
with emotion. “I love you so damn much, Josie. You are my happiness.
You’re the good in this world for me. You are mine. If I’m not going to bed
beside you every night for as long as I live, the devil might as well take me
now.”
I can barely catch my breath in the face of my dreams coming true. “I
love you, too. I love you with my whole heart.” I plant kisses all over his
face. “My Gunner. Mine.”
“Sweetest words I’ve ever heard,” he growls, capturing my mouth in a
hard kiss, his forearm sliding beneath my bottom. “Marry us. Just like this,”
he says to the pastor, whispering the rest in my ear. “I’m never going to let
your feet touch the floor. You’re going to feel like you’re floating for the
rest of your life.”
“I already do,” I whisper, framing his face with my hands, the gentle fan
blowing my hair around our heads. “I’m already in the clouds.”
We share another long, hungry kiss, unable to stop, even with our
audience watching. “Reach inside my inner jacket pocket,” he instructs me
—and I do—pulling out a diamond ring that qualifies as a small boulder,
rendering me speechless. “Now put it on your finger, little girl, and say the
words that will make me the luckiest man alive.”
 I exhale shakily while sliding on the ring, then lean in to speak quietly
against Gunner’s ear, my thighs tightening ever-so-slightly. “Yes, Papa.”
OceanofPDF.com
 EPILOGUE

Gunner

Five Years Later

Every year, on the anniversary of our impromptu wedding, me and Josie

renew our vows. It’s always the biggest party of the year—and it’s
happening tonight. If you told me a decade ago that I’d be the kind of man
who looks forward to parties, I wouldn’t have believed you. But I have this
bright, bubbly little wife that turns everything magical. Which is why,
although I’m supposed to wait until tonight to see the venue she’s
decorating for the party, I simply can’t wait that long. I want her in front of
me now.
A doorman holds open the entrance door of the forty-story building
where the party is being held. With a bouquet of roses in my hand, I take
the elevator up to the top floor, my dick already hard as nails. God. Five
years later and my obsession with Josie’s pussy has only swelled. I’m horny
and territorial and fascinated with every delicious inch of it. Just thinking
about how wet she gets when I eat her out had me cutting a meeting short
this afternoon to come here, surprise her at the venue.
 Since marrying the love of my life, she’s become…my world. There’s
no other way to put it. She travels with me, I discuss business decisions
with her, we spend our weekends wrapped up in one another and our four-
year-old son, Ryan. I didn’t know this level of happiness existed and I thank
my maker for it every day. I can’t wait to renew my vows to her tonight. I
love watching her blue eyes tear up every three hundred and sixty-five days,
the feel of her mouth on mine afterward. Love hearing her say in front of
everyone we know that she’s mine.
Now that her days aren’t spent attending classes, I have a lot more
access to her and it’s fucking glorious. I knew she needed some
independence—and an education—but sending her off to the university
campus every morning never failed to make me jealous. Knowing she’d be
around boys her own age led to me pulling her out of class on a regular
basis, fucking her on the desk of whichever administrator I’d paid off that
day.
Over and over again, she would tell me I’m the only man she’s ever
been attracted to, the only man she’ll ever love, until I started to believe it.
Hard not to believe her when she’s just as insatiable in bed as I am. When
every time she looks at me, her heart is right there in her eyes. But hell if I
didn’t love her being pregnant with my child while attending college. I
made sure to take out a full-page in the Times when we married, so
everyone would know who she belonged to. Who got her pregnant and who
planned to keep her—always.
Impatiently, I watch the numbers go up on the elevator screen. Halfway
there.
I want my wife.
Our son woke up early this morning and she took him out for breakfast.
And I love how she cares for our boy. I spend as much time with him as I
can, too—I’m already signed up to coach little league—but his early
morning wake-up call meant I didn’t get to bang my incredibly hot wife and
I’ve been suffering for it all day.
Finally, the doors to the elevator slide open to reveal the open-air
ballroom. Hired staff hustle in every direction, moving tables into place and
stringing lights. There are cherry blossoms everywhere. Artificial and real.
Candles. Light, airy curtains being carried into the space on a summer
breeze. It’s all beautiful, of course. She does an astonishing job every year.
 But I want her in my arms. I’ve gone hours without her and the strain is
getting to me.
My heart skitters when she dances into view, holding a clipboard.
There’s a huge smile on her face as she talks to a pair of female caterers,
pointing out items on her list. She’s dressed for yoga in a flowery sports bra
and black high-waisted pants that separate her high butt cheeks and my
cock wants to weep over the sight. She must have known I was coming and
wanted to tease me. She knows damn well that watching her do yoga turns
me into an animal.
Hell, thinking about it does.
I walk in her direction and people lower their voices as they start to
notice me, alerting Josie to the fact that something is up. She twists around
and sees me, pure joy blooming across her face and I almost drop the roses
in my hand, I’m so overcome with love and appreciation for her. What
would my life be without this girl?
God help me. I’m never going to find out.
“You’re here,” Josie squeals, tossing her clipboard onto the closest table
and bounding over, throwing her arms around my neck and pressing up on
her toes. Opening her mouth beneath mine and exploring me with her
tongue, as usual not giving a flying fuck about who is watching. Our public
displays of indecency are well documented by the press, because we can’t
help it. When we’re together, we’re the only two people in the room. “I love
seeing you so well rested,” she murmurs in between kisses, pouting sexily.
“I knew it was a good idea to swap coffee for herbal tea in your office. All
that caffeine was bad for you.”
“You always know best, baby,” I say gruffly.
I’m not exaggerating. This girl, it’s almost like her sole mission in life is
to care for me. She’s lowered my blood pressure, cholesterol and stress
level at a rate that baffles my doctors. I’m still the same weight I always
was—and she loves every pound—but I’m healthier because of her. Have
more energy, more interest in life outside of work, because she makes it all
so fun and exciting and beautiful. I’m the luckiest man on the planet.
Gently, I tap the bouquet of roses against her butt. “Happy anniversary.”
“Thank you,” she says, playing with the knot of my tie, emotion
swirling in her eyes. “Happy anniversary for making me the happiest girl in
the world.” She twists side to side, her lower lip sticking out slightly. “I
love my Papa.”
 My balls squeeze so tight, I have to suck in a breath. “You know what
you’re doing.”
Her gaze is nothing but innocent. “What do you mean?”
“You’re talking to me in your little girl voice,” I rasp, giving in to the
temptation to knead her backside, the hell with whoever is watching. “I’m
in need of a fix, Josie.”
“You are?” she purrs, still in that tone that drives me wild. “Well, it’s a
good thing you got here just in time for yoga.”
That four-letter word has my cock thickening in my pants. “Yeah?”
“Uh-huh.” She nods solemnly, then guides me through the busy ball
room by the tie to a back room. It’s medium-sized, potentially a room used
to store coats during a party. But right now, it’s empty, except for a yoga
mat and a leather reclining chair.
“You knew I was coming,” I say, letting her push me down into the seat,
sweat already beginning to dapple my forehead and top lip.
She closes the door and locks it. “I might have had a feeling.” Circling
me, she drags her index along my shoulder, removing my jacket and
hanging it on the door knob. “You’re always extra hard on our anniversary.”
Jesus, I’m panting just knowing what’s coming. “I’m remembering the
first night I had you in my bed. In our home. How it felt to know you were
really mine. Completely mine.”
“I love that,” she whispers in my ear.
And when she comes to stand in front of me again, she’s completely
naked.
Except for a little pink, sparkly G-string.
“Oh Jesus,” I groan, widening the V of my thighs and unzipping my
pants, my erection growing at a rate that makes me light-headed. “You’re so
fucking good to me.”
“It’s just a little yoga,” she says flirtatiously, turning to face away from
me and dropping into downward facing dog, that pink string stretching over
her asshole, the material already damp, no doubt from teasing me. Tongue
wetting my lips, I start to beat off, no way to control myself. Especially
when she extends one of her legs, lifting it, spreading the lips of her pussy,
giving me a view of her tits in the process.
I came home one day to find her practicing yoga in our bedroom and
came in my pants. The next time I found her doing it she was naked and I
barely managed to get my cock inside of her before blowing. There is
something about the stretching of her limber body, the almost raunchy
exposing of the heaven between her legs, between those cheeks, that makes
me so hard it hurts. “Do the goddamn thing, Josie,” I beg her now. “Please.”
I hold my breath as she walks backward, still bent over. One leg extends
back and settles onto the chair beside my thigh, her ankle sliding back to
meet my hip. She performs the same action with her other leg, then perches
her knees on the edge of the recliner. The position is what dreams are made
of. Her butt is just above my jerking hand and she drops down, giving me a
few circles of her hips, stopping right when I begin to moan—and then she
falls forward through the V of my thighs, flattening her hands on the
ground.
No matter what age Josie is, I would have fallen in love with her.
She’s my soul mate—end of story.
But I would be lying if I said there weren’t certain perks that come with
being married to a girl fresh out of college. For instance, her generation has
a thing called twerking. And she does it for me now, popping her hips and
shaking that tight, juicy ass right in front of me, arching her back so I can
watch her pussy move, too, watch the juices roll down her flesh and drip
into my lap. I have to clamp my teeth together to keep from bellowing my
male satisfaction at what she’s doing, the erotic tempo of her jiggling
cheeks almost too much to bear. My seed starts to grow sharp in my balls,
seeking an outlet.
“Papa?”
I grunt, unable to form words, my gaze riveted on the rosebud of her
asshole, my fist rifling up and down my erection.
“Left you something in your pocket,” she purrs in that little girl voice.
Sweating, my breath sawing in and out, I pat my dress shirt once and
find a small object in the pocket. When I reach inside and pull it out with
my left hand, I have to twist my balls in my right to stop myself from
climaxing. It’s a bottle of lubrication—and Christ, I know what that means.
I know this is an invitation she always extends when I least expect it.
“Ah fuck, little girl. Fuck. You’re going to let me in there, aren’t you?”
In a surge of lust and adrenaline, I lunge out of the chair and flatten her on
the yoga mat, ripping the cap off the bottle of lube with my teeth and
pouring the entire contents on her tight, pink asshole. I wedge a middle
finger in, making her whimper, her whines growing louder when I add my
ring finger, adorned with the gold band of a man who couldn’t be more
married. More committed to the girl currently giving him everything. Every
part of herself.
She lifts slightly beneath me to push a hand down between her legs,
moaning as she starts rubbing her clit, a ripple of pleasure going through
her back. “Oh. Papa,” she whines, her hips starting to roll, my beautiful
goddess of a wife humping her own hand.
“My God, you horny little doll,” I mutter, guiding my cock to her back
entrance, easing it in gently, the utter clench of the channel robbing me of
sight, of the ability to breathe. “Relax,” I growl, panting, sweating. “Show
Papa how much you love him.”
Her moan is a twisted, audible proof that she loves our games even
more today than she did the first time, her fingers clawing the yoga mat.
“Your come is your way of getting your love inside me, Papa, right? That’s
what you told me.”
“That’s right,” I say raggedly, sinking it to the hilt and listening to her
resulting gasp into the mat. “That’s my good listener.”
I grit my teeth and pump once, my balls crushing up between her young,
parted ass cheeks. Her hips rock quicker and quicker underneath me and
without looking, I know her fingers are busy on her clit—and that she’s
close. Her halting whimpers of my name tell me so. Desperate to
experience her pleasure, I reach between us and knock her hand out of the
way, pumping three thick fingers into her pussy and fucking them in and
out, her moisture slicking down my knuckles. “You’re everywhere. You’re
everywhere,” she wails, starting to tremble, then shaking violently. “Take it
all. Own it all.”
“I do own this. All of it,” I growl in her ear, pumping one more time into
her ass and delivering my spend, her pleasure squirting into my hand at the
same time, our bodies rutting on the floor like animals, grinding out the
pleasure, teeth sinking into flesh, feet digging into the ground for purchase.
Jesus Christ. Every time I have my wife is better than the last and this time
is definitely no exception. As wave after wave of relief passes through me, I
can only hold on to her, my sweetest treasure, and thank the fates for
bringing her to me.
“Five years,” I say in her ear. “Sixty to go, my love.”
And I feel her beautiful smile against my forearm. “My dreams came
true.”
THE END

Want more big boy romances by Jessa Kane?

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HUSKY
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HEFTY
https://bit.ly/3sZvjNB

BURLY
https://bit.ly/3tajFzu

KING-SIZED
https://bit.ly/3mqaUPr

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