Pretty Boy

by K. M. Neuhold

  Chapter‌ ‌11‌ ‌

  Sterling

  After the whole mess on Sunday morning, I unpack my things all over again, and this time, Barrett takes my paper bags out to the big trash bin in the garage, as if not having bags will stop me from trying to leave again. It’s kinda sweet in its own way, even if it don’t make no difference. I’m not sure his friends were wrong. Not about me being after his money; I couldn’t care less about that, but about me not fitting here. That’s what they really meant when they kept mentioning Billow and telling Barrett to send me home. This ain’t the place a man like me should be.

  On Monday morning, I wake up alone in an ocean of silky sheets that smell like Barrett, with a hard, aching cock. I turn my face into the pillow and breathe in his scent, a quiet moan slipping from my lips as I reach under the covers to do something about the needy feeling.

  I wrap my fingers around my cock and stroke myself slowly, closing my eyes and remembering the way Barrett touched me the other night. It feels like ages ago now, and he hasn’t properly touched me since. Is he rethinking things? Did he decide he’s not attracted to me? Or is it because he wants to take it slow like he said? But, most importantly, what can I do to get his hands on me again? Because I’m craving his touch something fierce.

  I thrust into my fist, using my other hand to cup my balls the same way Barrett did, tugging them just a little and moaning again.

  “Sterling,” Barrett’s stern voice startles my eyes open. I find him standing beside the bed with his arms crossed over his large chest, one eyebrow raised, an unimpressed look on his face. Dang, that’s so much hotter than it should be. Although, I still prefer the look he gives me when he calls me his good boy to this annoyed one.

  “Daddy,” I say breathlessly.

  “What was the second rule, Pretty Boy?” he asks, his tone slow and patient.

  My cock is still throbbing in my hand, making it difficult to think. I search my mind for a second before I remember what he means. “Dang,” I mutter, reluctantly pulling my hand off of myself. “Sorry, Daddy.”

  “Mmm,” he hums, pulling the sheets back and shaking his head. “What a naughty boy you’ve been this morning.”

  I squirm, my cock jerking at his words. Is he going to spank me for being bad? Or, wait, did he say chores were my real punishment?

  “I couldn’t help it, Daddy.” I dip my face and peek up at him through my eyelashes, and I catch a flash of heat in his otherwise disapproving face.

  “Couldn’t help it, hm?” he repeats, a wicked smile replacing the frown. “Then I guess you’ll need a hand with that.”

  A hand? Oh, yes. I nod eagerly, licking my lips spreading my legs. Barrett chuckles and tsks again. “Please,” I beg.

  He leans over the bed and brushes a kiss against my lips. “You beg so pretty for me, little rabbit. I have to go to work, but I’m going to help you out with your little problem as soon as I get home this afternoon.”

  I whine. This afternoon? That’s ages away.

  He laughs again. “And in the meantime, I wouldn’t touch that pretty little cock again, if I were you,” he says. Why? What’ll happen? Is it normal that the mildly threatening edge to his words only makes me harder? And why the heck is this afternoon so dang far away? “Can you be a good boy for me while I’m away?”

  I nod again automatically. I can be a good boy, and then his warm words will wrap me up again while he touches me. Just to make sure I don’t slip up again, I scramble out of bed and get dressed while he watches me. I’m used to the feeling of eyes on me, but they’ve never felt so gentle the way Barrett’s do. They’ve never made me feel like I was worth looking at before.

  Once my clothes are on, I follow him downstairs to the kitchen where he has a bowl of oatmeal set out for me. It has blueberries and strawberries on the top, which makes it just about the fanciest bowl of oatmeal I ever seen.

  “You made this for me?” I ask as he pulls out my chair and hands me a spoon.

  “Of course. I wanted to make sure you had something to eat before I left.” He kisses the top of my head.

  “Nobody’s cooked nothing for me since my gran died.” I dip my spoon in, smiling fondly at memories of my gran’s grits. “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure.” He reaches into his pocket, and I notice a moment of hesitation before he pulls out his wallet and hands me a credit card. It’s black with silver lettering on it, and it feels heavier than most credit cards.

  “What’s this for?” I ask, turning it over between my fingers and looking up at him curiously. “Am I s’posed to buy something you need today?”

  The hesitation slides from his face, replaced by another easy smile. “No, Pretty Boy, this is in case you want to go out today. I’ll be gone for about eight hours, so I thought you might want to explore the city, maybe walk around the strip. You can buy yourself some new clothes or get lunch, anything you want. I have a driver on call, I’ll give you his number.”

  “I ain’t got a phone,” I remind him, my mind whirling over the fact that he’s giving me his credit card. “And I already got clothes. Looks like there’s food here, too, so I don’t see why I’d waste money on lunch out.”

  “Damn, I forgot about the phone issue. Give me a minute.” He ignores the rest of my statement and pulls out his own cell phone, pressing some buttons before lifting it to his ear. “Gannon, hi,” he says after a few seconds, sounding more business-like than I’ve heard him so far. It still sounds commanding, but in a different way. Bossy but without all the heat. “Yes, I’m back in town. Sorry, I should’ve sent you a text, the days have gotten away from me. Anyway, I need you to do something for me. Get a new iPhone and bring it by the house. I won’t be here, but you can give it to the young man who’s here staying with me, his name is Sterling. Excellent, thank you. After that, you can swing by the office. Thanks, see you in a bit.”

  He hangs up and slips his phone back into his pants. I eye his clothes for the first time. I was so focused on his face earlier, I didn’t notice the nice slacks and button up shirt he’s wearing today. Glancing back down at my own plain t-shirt and ratty jeans, I cringe inwardly. Maybe I do need new clothes so I don’t embarrass him. But I ain’t about to spend his money to get them. I’ll go out today like he suggested, and I’ll find a job so I can buy my own new clothes.

  “My assistant, Gannon, is going to drop off a cell phone for you shortly, and if you need him to show you how to use it, just ask.”

  I bristle. “I’ve used a phone.” I know his friends all think I’m some kinda backwater hick, but I’ve used a dang phone before. I just ain’t had the money to buy my own.

  “Of course, sorry. I’m just feeling a little anxious about going into work and dealing with Kiernan and Alden,” he admits, giving me an apologetic look.

  That makes sense. They had a fight, and now he has to go spend all day with them. That’s no fun. Maybe I can do something nice for him like making sure dinner’s ready when he gets home.

  “When’ll you be back?”

  “Should be around four or five,” he answers, checking his watch. “And I’d better get going. Stalling isn’t going to make this any less irritating to deal with.”

  Anxiety squirms in my stomach. What if his friends convince him I’m not worth keeping around after all? What if he comes home tonight with a bus ticket back to Billow? I shove a spoonful of oatmeal into my mouth and nearly gag on it, my nerves are going so haywire. Barrett puts a hand on the back of my neck and gives it a light squeeze, which calms me a little, but not enough. He wishes me a good day, and I nod, my mouth too full to say anything back. As I watch him walk out of the kitchen, the sound of the garage door opening and closing behind him a minute later, all I can think is I’d better prepare myself to be tossed out on my backside before the end of the night. I won’t blame him. He’s only known me a week; why would he choose me over his friends?

  I poke miserably at my oatmeal a while longer, feeling too anxious to eat but know
ing that Daddy made it for me and wants me to finish it. When it goes cold, I give up and scrape it into the garbage disposal.

  The doorbell sounds, and I jump nervously, laughing at myself when I remember that some fella named Gannon is s’posed to be bringing me a phone. I hurry to the door, pulling it open to find a tall, grumpy looking man with a buzz cut. There’s a bit of dark stubble on his cheeks, and, to my relief, he’s dressed similarly to me in a plain black t-shirt and a pair of holey jeans. My eyes zero in on a patch of scarred skin peeking out from the collar of his shirt before I quickly look away. Something tells me he did the same thing with my birthmark.

  “You Sterling?” he asks, his voice just as gruff as the rest of him.

  I nod quickly. “Pleased to meet ya,” I say automatically, and he grunts in response before holding the phone out to me. I barely have the chance to thank him before he’s turning around and walking away. I notice he’s limping as he goes, and I wonder for a second about his scars before I decide it’s not really my business and take my new phone into the house to get it set up so I can call the driver Barrett left me the number for.

  Barrett

  I fidget with my tie and glare at the tall glass building that houses the Russell Investments Group on the fifth floor. I own the entire building, and the other nine floors all house companies I’ve funded or invested in. Alden argued that we should be on the top floor, but five felt just fine to me.

  I don’t relish having to deal with Kiernan and Alden. And if we didn’t have a meeting scheduled to go over our quarterly finances, I would’ve worked from home today, not only to avoid them, but because it felt wrong to leave Sterling all alone on his second day in the city. With a final huff, I get out of the car and head inside.

  While I ride the elevator up to the right floor, I consider my fresh annoyance with my friends this morning for having gotten in my head yesterday. I hesitated before giving Sterling my credit card. I know I can trust him. Hell, the boy didn’t even want me to buy him dinner when we met, and I saw the way his face hardened with resolve when I told him to buy clothes or anything he’d like today. But I still hesitated.

  The elevator doors ding open and I step off, squaring my shoulders and projecting the air of certainty I know I’ll need to tell my friends to back off and trust my judgment one more time. I’m not worried that they’ll come around; I’m worried that they’ll hurt Sterling’s feelings again before they pull their heads out of their asses.

  I find them both in the conference room, exactly where I expected them to be, with paperwork and graphs spread out in front of them, a stack in front of the open seat clearly meant for me. They look up when they hear me enter the room, Kiernan giving me a contrite look while Alden’s expression remains blandly neutral.

  I nod in greeting, keeping my face blank as I slide into my chair and pick up the stack of paperwork simply to have something to do with my hands.

  “Are we going with the cold shoulder then?” Alden asks evenly.

  “I don’t know what you mean.” The petty approach feels rather satisfying at the moment.

  Kiernan snorts and gives me a cut the bullshit look, to which I shrug and return the expression. If they want me to defrost, then they need to apologize.

  “You want us to apologize,” he says simply. Apparently, Kiernan has developed telepathy over the weekend or we’ve simply known each other too long.

  “That would be lovely,” I respond dryly.

  “Are we supposed to apologize for your questionable life choices now or simply for pointing them out?” Alden asks.

  “Start by choking on a bag of dicks,” I suggest, which startles a laugh out of both of my friends.

  “Bare, you have to admit, it was rather…shocking for you to leave for a meeting with the lab we’ve been investing in and return with some mystery boy,” Kiernan reasons.

  “He wouldn’t be a mystery if you hadn’t immediately jumped on me about it. I was about to introduce you to him. He overheard everything you said and nearly ran out on me, so thanks for that.”

  “You don’t usually keep such skittish boys in your home, how were we supposed to know?” Alden asks.

  “How about as a blanket rule, you don’t insult the men I choose to associate with, whether bringing them home or otherwise.”

  “That’s fair,” Kiernan agrees, and Alden sniffs, which I’m taking as acknowledgment that I’ve made a good point. “We shouldn’t have jumped on you without even meeting him, and we’re sorry.” Alden nods sharply, which is as close to an apology as I can expect from him.

  “Thank you,” I say tersely. “I know I haven’t had the best luck in the past, but I really do think Sterling is different.”

  “Then we’re happy for you. We’d love another chance to meet him.”

  “Yes, and we’ll behave this time,” Alden adds, although it clearly costs him.

  “Okay. Let me look at my schedule, and we can all go out for dinner this week.”

  Gannon raps on the edge of the door, silently holding up a cup of coffee for me. I smile and get out of my chair to grab it from him.

  “Did you get that phone to Sterling?” I check.

  “All done,” he answers. He’s a man of few words, but he’s been an excellent assistant for the past year, so I don’t mind that he’s not all that chatty.

  “Fantastic.” I pat him on the shoulder. “We’re going to tackle the numbers, but if you wouldn’t mind wading through my emails and marking the important ones for me, I’d appreciate it.”

  “No problem,” he agrees before limping off to his office.

  When I turn around, I catch Alden’s eyes glued to Gannon’s back for a few seconds before he returns them to the financial paperwork. With my coffee in hand, I return to my seat and steel myself for a boring day of talking about money.

  Chapter‌ ‌12‌ ‌

  Sterling

  I may never’ve been outside of Billow before, but I’ve seen plenty of movies, and I always sorta figured that I was prepared for what a big city would be like. Boy, was I wrong. I called Barrett’s driver, Kane, and he dropped me off in front of a building that looks like the Eiffel Tower, then told me to call him when I was ready to be picked up.

  I was pretty sure I’d be fine finding my way around, but all the flashing lights and throngs of people have me a tad turned around. It’s noisy, hotter than Hades, and there’s a bit of a skunky smell hanging in the air in certain areas, but I don’t care much about none of that because not one person has stopped to stare at my face yet. It’s just like I told Miss Maggie, here I’m nothing but another faceless person in the crowd, and I’ve never felt more free.

  I wander down the street with my head held high, my eyes passing over shop windows and billboards. My favorite thing is the women in real Vegas Showgirl feathered headdresses, just like in the movies.

  I turn down a quieter street and smile when I spot a shop called Unicorn Books. Even if Barrett already has more books than I could ever find time to read, it can’t hurt to look a little. I push open the door, and I’m immediately met with the calming smell of books and dust. I sneeze and hear a giggle. I turn my head to see a man a mite smaller than me with a mess of curly blond hair and a pink t-shirt with a unicorn on the front.

  “Sss-s-sorry about all the dust. It’s a w-work in p-p-progress.”

  “‘S okay,” I assure him.

  “My grandpa lll-left me this huge lll-library full of books, and I had the b-b-brilliant idea to open an indie bookstore. I didn’t realize how dusty they’d all be when I p-p-pulled them out of storage.”

  I smile at him and nod in understanding. “Dusty or not, ownin’ your own bookstore is amazin’,” I say wistfully, looking around at the shelves, stocked full of all kinds of books.

  “It w-w-will be once it’s all ss-setup.”

  I bobble my head again, making my way over to the closest shelf and looking over the titles. I’ve heard of one or two of them, but most are unfamiliar. I pick on
e up and flip it open to the first page, mentally stumbling over a few words before I get frustrated and put it back.

  The owner whistles to himself, shelving books while I pick up a few more, using the same process of reading the first page and then replacing it if it’s too hard to read. I manage to find one that doesn’t seem too difficult and hold it for a few seconds before putting it back on the shelf with a promise to myself to come back for it after I have a job and some extra money.

  “C-c-…do you need any help?” His voice is closer than I expected, and I turn my head to see him smiling at me. Boy is he a perky one.

  “Just lookin’,” I answer. “I gotta remember what to come back for once I got some money.”

  “Oh.” For some reason, this lights up his smile even brighter. “You know, I’m actually looking to hire someone to help me out around here if you w-want a job.”

  My heart leaps before I get a hold of myself and drag it back down to reality. Someone who can’t hardly read don’t belong working in a bookstore.

  “You don’t want me,” I tell him, ducking my head down and looking away.

  “W-why not?”

  My cheeks heat, and I’m sure he can see the pink on the tip of my ears if he’s still looking. “I ain’t a good reader. You want somebody who’d be able to recommend books and whatnot.”

  He shrugs, the happy expression never wavering. “I d-d-don’t talk very well, and I mmm-manage just fine.”

  I look back up at him with surprise. I guess he’s right. “You mean it? You’d want me to work here?” I ask. “I could fill out an application if you have one.”

  “Nah,” he waves me off, striding over to the cash register and grabbing a pen and notebook off the counter. “J-j-just write down your n-n…your info.”

  I stare at him in surprise as I take the items from him. “What if I’m a criminal? You ain’t even gonna run a background check?”

  “If you’re a cr-criminal, you need a job even mmm-more.”