by T. L Smith
I spread my legs, ever so slowly, watching for his reaction.
He wants me, and it’s evident by the tent in his pants which he still has on.
Gunner stands tall, he rolls his neck before a sinister smile plays on his lips as he steps toward me. I watch him in fascination, mesmerized by his whole persona. And everything he is interests me. But who is he, really? I don’t know. All I know is bits and pieces, and yet, here I am, on his bed, with my legs spread and ready for whatever it is he’s willing to give me.
This is what you call stupid.
But I will ride that train to stupid town if I get to have him. Because he is that intoxicating. Even when I know I should have walked away, I lie naked, watching him watch me.
“You’re overthinking. Stop.” He slaps my sex, hard. It tingles, and my instincts tell me to shut my legs and run for everything I hold dear to me, but instead he pushes them open and I don’t move. Every sensation runs through me, and the one I’m gripping onto the most right now is pleasure, with a touch of pain.
“It’s hard not to,” I say, sitting up on my elbows but keeping my legs spread. Funnily enough a part of me wants to shut them just to see what he’ll do.
Will he slap me again?
And better yet, will I like it?
“If you’re a good bunny, I will touch you.”
“Touch me.”
“Now that’s naughty. Tell me nicely.” One hand grips my knee that’s slightly up as my legs stay spread. I’ve never been with a man as dominating as Gunner, so I don’t know what’s normal for him. What I should say around him. He’s an enigma and I am going to break his code.
“Touch me, please, Gunner.”
“Mr. Reid,” he replies.
“Touch me, please, Mr. Reid.”
He smirks. “I will make you come, and you will thank me for it afterward. Do you understand?”
I nod my head fast, like a schoolgirl who’s been offered lollies in exchange for being good.
He slaps me again. This time the smirk stays on his face, and his hand comes to my neck applying pressure. I don’t move, staying exactly where he wants me. “You like it?”
Not replying is my best option right now, or better yet, I’m afraid of the words that might leave my mouth.
Hands lighten on my neck, and he moves down, his fingers dragging between my breasts and down my stomach to my navel, then his hand lies just above my sex. He looks up at me, that smirk still in place, as he lowers himself.
The first warning I get is a lick of his tongue. The damn thing assaults me, strikes at my very nerve center, making me move. He grabs hold of my hips, his tongue stopping, which makes me groan for more.
“Still, or I’ll stop.”
One thing I should mention, I move around and make a lot of noise during sex. But he doesn’t know that, so this is going to be a task. Gunner goes back, so I grab the pillow and place it between my teeth and bite as hard as I can while his tongue assaults me again. He’s goddamn relentless and fucking good all at the same time. I can feel how wet I am, and it’s leaking down between my cheeks.
He pushes in a finger, his tongue doing circles around my clit, and he pulses his finger in and out, in and out, but fast. His tongue keeps the same rhythm, laving at my sensitive nub.
It takes less than two groans and one half-scream for me to come. And I come, hard. The pillow still lies flat on my face, bits of it in my mouth from where I bit on it when I was coming.
Pulling it away, he appears over me, and I can see myself on him which he hasn’t bothered to wipe away.
“You’re a screamer.”
I’m still trying to catch up, but somehow, I manage a nod.
“I’ll have to work with that.”
My legs lie out to the sides because I’m unable to move them. My whole body is sedate now.
Gunner steps back from me, his pants that are still sitting on his hips fall to the floor and his cock springs free. My eyes go large. Fuck! I instantly want to close my legs. I’ve been with only a few men in my life, and he’s by far the biggest.
“I’m going to play nice, okay?”
I nod once.
What the fuck does that mean?
Was that him being nice? Because I liked it.
“Now, roll over so I can fuck you.”
I do as I’m told. Managing to get up on my knees, I push myself back where I know he needs me.
“Good bunny.” I hear the rip of a wrapper then I feel him at my entrance. My very fucking wet entrance. I can feel myself starting to pulsate just having him near me.
He presses but doesn’t go far, teasing me again but does not move. Circling my entrance, his hand comes between my legs and touches my very sensitive clit.
“I’m going to get addicted to you, bunny. You should be afraid. Very afraid.” He breathes the words on my ear.
I turn so I can touch his lips with my own. The need I have for him is overwhelming right now. “I want you, too.” Then I bite his lip and taste myself on him.
Gunner kisses me back, and as our tongues collide, he pushes into me. It’s slow, agonizingly slow, and my mouth opens even wider than before. He takes full advantage, stealing my kiss and making it his as he pushes in as far as he can.
Breaking free from our kiss, he fucks me.
Hard.
Fast.
Good.
The best I’ve ever had.
His hands are constantly in my hair, pulling me to him as if I’m his and he owns me. Slapping my ass as if I’m his possession. Gripping my hips as if he has rights to me.
“Tell me now, bunny. Tell me.”
I don’t know what to say, so I say nothing.
Then he leans down right next to my ear while his cock is still inside of me. “You can thank me now,” he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice.
“Thank you.” Little does he know I mean it.
He is, by far, the best fuck I’ve ever had.
I may become addicted to him—just as he said he would become addicted to me. Or perhaps I’ve just fucked the devil and damned myself.
Who cares?
Because it felt sooo fucking good.
5
Opening my eyes, a hand is on me, touching my back in a way that screams possession. I’ve read about this in books, but I’ve never had a man hold me in place with one hand while he sleeps before. I’m afraid to move. If I do, I will probably wake him, but I do need to go to the bathroom. Sliding out from under him, his hand falls away, but he doesn’t wake.
Looking at him sleeping, his ass is bare and the sheet that was covering me isn’t over him at all. As I somehow manage to turn away from ogling him, I notice how sore I am from all the sex we had last night.
I quickly wash up and head out, and when I do, I find him sitting on the edge of the bed, naked. Moving, he faces me, looks me over, and turns away. His hair is down, and his mass of curls is everywhere. He’s never looked so good.
Gunner spins back to me and his dark, haunted eyes stare right at me. “It’s best you leave, Everly. I have work to do.” The harshness of his voice stuns me. Last night he was calling me bunny and now I’m back to Everly? He says my name with such formality, I honestly don’t know how to take it.
“I was leaving anyway.” I reach for my dress, slide it on as fast as possible then grab my purse. With quick steps I walk out not looking back. A car’s already waiting, and I slide in trying to hold back the tears I know want to fall as I head home.
What an asshole.
I never asked for this, never asked for him. Gunner isn’t a man who’s all hearts, flowers, and romance, and I know that fact. Doesn’t matter, though. The way he treated me still stings. I knew he wasn’t that type of man from the first time I saw him. Women do all the work, as far as he’s concerned, to have him. That’s blatantly obvious now, and let’s face it, he can have his pick. And, I guess, when you look like him, I don’t see why he would be any other way.
It’s Sun
day, and that means I have to get to my parents’ house before they send my old bodyguards to get me. I quickly change into a soft, white spring dress that covers everything, and gives me the look of innocence. My matted hair needs a thorough combing—it’s a knotted mess from my activities last night with a certain person who shall not be named.
I’m still trying to work out how I’m meant to feel after the way he treated me this morning. One thing I do know is, it made me feel worthless, cheap, and I will absolutely never go there again.
Putting on some pink lipstick and pinching my cheeks because I’m way too lazy to do any sort of makeup this morning, I step outside.
What I see sitting waiting there shocks me.
On my front step, Gunner’s dressed in a suit that probably cost more than most people’s entire wardrobe. And he’s sitting on the dirty step, in said suit, with his head down and his hands clutching at either side.
Gunner doesn’t notice me straight away, so I cough. He spins to the noise and sees me standing behind him. He pushes up, brushing away any dirt from his pants and smirks.
I don’t.
I won’t.
I will not have him near me right now!
“You’re angry,” he states.
Well, hello, Mr. Obvious. It’s been a few hours since I left his apartment and I have tried to think of a single reason why he’d kick me out so harshly after the night we shared.
That type of sex makes you want to fall in love.
Best sex of my fucking life.
“What do you want, Gunner?”
He eyes me up and down.
Oh, shit! It’s so unfair that he has this type of effect on me. A simple damn look, and I want to forgive and forget the way he treated me.
No! That’s not going to happen.
“Why are you dressed like that?”
My hand falls to my hip. “Like what?”
“Like a good girl.”
My mouth opens and closes. “I am a good girl,” I state.
He shakes his head slowly and takes one step, pinching his lip between his teeth as he looks at me. “You and I both know that’s not true. You play the role, but you like to be spanked.” I can feel my cheeks heating as he takes another step closer to me. “I came to apologize. I’m not used to having a woman sleep at my house.”
I cross my arms over my chest in some sort of protective gesture at his words, not believing him. “Well, where do you sleep with all your women?” I roll my eyes.
“Never at my home.” He says it in such a way that my hands fall away from my chest, because for some strange reason I actually believe him. “Can I accompany you?” Gunner offers me his hand.
I look to it, wanting to take it. My heart’s trying to protect itself, however my mind and body have other ideas. He has me under a spell, one I can’t seem to break.
Perhaps the spell should be called ‘hot and cold’ because he’s giving me whiplash.
“No, I’m not ready for that step yet.”
“You’re visiting your parents?” he asks.
Good guess.
“Yes.”
He steps back down a step, and his eyes skirt around before they come back to mine. “Okay, later then?” he asks as if he’s giving me a chance to object. I don’t. “Call me so I can collect you.”
My father’s driver pulls up, gets out of the car and holds open the door. I walk past Gunner, not saying a word. When I’m in the car, I turn around and he isn’t there anymore.
Did I just dream that?
“Hope you’ve been well, miss,” Paul, the driver, asks and I nod my head. “Your father has been asking about you because you didn’t come last week.”
Of course, he has. I didn’t attend my scheduled lunch last week because we had a private function at the café which I couldn’t miss. Papa was not happy. Actually, he was furious, but seemed to calm down a little once I told him how important the function was to me. Papa doesn’t care much about my little café. Unfortunately, he’s more interested in me taking an interest in his business affairs, but more importantly, getting married. So anything to do with the café is regarded as a waste of time as far as he’s concerned.
It doesn’t take long until we pull up at the gated community in Evergreen. My father’s house is the biggest, the best, the most luxurious. And that’s because he owns the property and most of the houses built on the land.
In the community, my father knows everyone. Everyone who lives here has to buy through my father and must also be approved by my father, which means they have to meet the strict guidelines he has set. The community is full of businessmen, tycoons, or just plain arrogant snobs. Most of them pretending to be someone they’re not.
So, when we pull in his driveway, it’s no surprise that a few cars are already here, and my father’s standing out front waiting for me.
Dark hair and worry lines etch his face as he steps out and pulls my door open. He greets me with a hug so big you’d think it’s been months since he last saw me.
“Papa, how are you?”
He pulls me back to look me over. “As beautiful as ever,” he says in Greek. My father was born here, but his father was born in a small town in Greece. They moved here for a better life, and that’s exactly what my Pappous—or should I say, grandfather—did. He died when I was only two, so I don’t remember a lot about him, but my father talks of him often, which keeps him alive in my mind. Papa tries extremely hard to get me to speak Greek when I’m around him, which I refuse most of the time. Although, sometimes I can’t help it as it comes naturally when he speaks to me in Greek.
“Is Mama here?”
Papa nods leaning in and kissing both of my cheeks then grabbing my hand, pulling me up the five stairs until we reach the large, stained-glass French doors leading into the house. Honestly, they’re completely over the top but stunning, with their colors reflecting the light from inside the house.
“Of course,” he answers. “She’s cooked your favorites. Now, you sure you can’t stay the night?”
I shake my head.
Personally, I think they should have had more than one child. I have no idea why they didn’t, but for reasons unknown they were never blessed with another. I’m sure if Papa had a son, he would be completely different with me.
“No, I have work tomorrow. You know this.”
“When you marry, your husband won’t want you working this much.”
I shrug. It’s killing me not being at work right now—there isn’t a chance in hell a husband will stop me from working.
“We don’t live in your time anymore, Papa. Women own multimillion-dollar companies now. It’s a woman’s world.”
He scoffs at me.
As he does, my mother walks out with her apron on, covered in flour, and I try to not roll my eyes when I look at the stereotypical housewife. Her hands circle my waist pulling me into a hug the same way my father did. “You look tired. Let me feed you.” This is her answer to everything, she always wants to feed me. Her hands pull me to the dining room, which is set for us, plus my uncle, my father’s younger brother, Alec.
“I have to leave after lunch, Mama.”
She shakes her head, her soft waves of beautiful, dark chocolate brown hair falling around her face. “Nonsense! You can stay as long as you want.”
“I really can’t.”
“You’ve met someone?” She spins on me, pinning me with a stare. “Don’t tell your father. Okay? It’s best he doesn’t know.”
I nod my head, having no damn idea how the hell she even knows. Does she have some kind of ESP, where she can see inside my mind?
There are many things she tells me not to tell Papa. And I have always listened. Because despite the fact I don’t agree with her being locked up in this house and existing as nothing more than a damn housekeeper, I know she knows my father better than I ever will. Papa will never change. His perception that women should be at home, pregnant, and not working, means he’s stuck in the past.
Regardless of that fact, though, I still love him.
Mama helped me with my café. She was instrumental in driving Papa to accept that I have a life away from here and that having my little café makes me happy.
My mother brushes her perfect hair away from her immaculate face. Her makeup is flawless, and that’s something I’ve always admired about her.
“Why?” I end up asking while leaning in super close.
She kisses my nose and shakes her head. “Not today. Okay? Just not today.”
I don’t push her anymore.
My uncle steps in. His voice is loud, and he slaps my father on the back. When he notices me, he picks me up and spins me around like a child. He’s only ten years older than me—my pappous had him later in his life. I’ve always gotten along with Alec, even if he is the son my father never had.
“Missed you, Squirt.”
I squeeze his shoulders. He’s still so much larger than me. “You need to work out. You’ve lost some weight lately?”
Alec laughs, placing me down, knowing I’m playing with him. Alec’s large, and he is easily mistaken for one of my father’s bodyguards.
“You need to put some on, too. And I plan to come visit this café of yours next week.” His smile is big and bright. I’ve always felt comforted when I’m around Alec. Even if I have heard he’s anything but nice to anyone else but us.
“You don’t want to go there, it’s pink,” my father spits while waving his hands around and shaking his head. “My girl has no taste in stunning decor.”
Alec rolls his eyes at my father’s words. “I will. And maybe take a selfie or two for the ‘Gram,” he says while laughing.
My father straightens his posture and sits at the head of the table. Alec takes the seat next to him, and my mother on the other side of him, while I sit at the other end.
“You’ll need to give that café up when you become a wife. You know that, right?”
My mother pours him a drink as he watches me, waiting for my answer.
“What if I don’t get married?”
My mother spills her wine glass all over the table at my words.
