“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.
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.