Daddy's Rules (Boston Daddies, Book 2)

by Landon Rockwell

  "Thank you. Everything smells extraordinary," I say, pretending as though I'm somehow a part of Ty's high-powered world and not just some secret human sex toy.

  He wheels the cart into the hotel room. "Is this okay?" he asks, gesturing towards the space in front of the couch.

  "Perfect," I say, shrugging my shoulders. He sets all of the food out on the tray and leaves. I look back, Ty is still on the balcony on his phone. His eyes look serious, intense even. It's hard to hear his conversation, not that I should even be trying… but I can't help myself. With the sounds of the city moving in every direction outside his balcony, I'm forced to lower the volume on the television so I can hear what he's talking about.

  His first words are crystal-clear “… No, Merissa, you didn't waste four years for nothing. I made a promise, and I plan on keeping that promise.”

  Merissa… I pull out my phone, the name sounding all too familiar. My heart is starting to race for some reason.

  I type in Merissa and Ty Cannon and my fears are confirmed. He must be talking to Marissa Lacey, the same chick who he's been dating on and off for several years, at least according to the 1,173 images that instantly come up on Google.

  She's gorgeous, the Gisele of Hollywood, and they always look perfect together in every single damn picture. Of course, this is how the pictures have to look. He needs to have a hot fucking girl on his shoulder if he's going to maintain his image as the biggest badass in Hollywood.

  Hell, he certainly couldn’t have me on his shoulder.

  I lower the television volume two more notches. This time, he sounds even more strained. I didn’t know a man like him could even sound this way. But his words are clear: “Mare, just calm down. Everything’s fine. I just have to finish my publicity tour here in Boston, and then I promise we’ll spend some time together when I get back to New York. We’’ll figure this out.”

  My heart sinks a little bit deeper. Of course, this is what it would feel like to be used. To be used by a closeted Hollywood gay actor. And I can’t stand it.

  Just as I start to get up from the couch, Ty opens the slider door and comes back in from the balcony. Oh god, I almost forgot how handsome he was. And sexy. Whatever wind there is outside on that balcony, it's shifted his hair into a perfect, beautiful mess.

  He pulls his shirt off and throws it to me. Jeez, his body is absolutely stunning. Like a statue. cut from granite. My dick twitches and my stomach turns.

  And for a split second, I’ve almost forgotten how horrible it feels to be in the situation I’m in, to know that he’s only here for who knows how long, and then he’ll be gone.

  But his eyes are soft and sexy and irresistible. I want to slide my hands across the stubble on his cheeks. I want to feel that dark stubble with my fingers. I want to see him, naked.

  And I want to feel that big, thick cock inside of me.

  “I have to clean up. Get some rest, you’re going to need it,” he says cooly.

  I hesitate to respond, the phone call I overheard tormenting my mood.

  He gives me a look. “Something’s wrong,” he says, his eyes drilling into mine.

  I glance down, the idea of lying to this man becoming increasingly more difficult. I shouldn’t care this much, I have every goddamn right to keep my own internal feelings hidden from this man.

  “Sounded like an important phone call,” I say, using my chin to nudge towards the balcony. “Who was that?”

  His brows furrow, but his lips form another sly grin. “Who was who?”

  I toss his shirt over my shoulder, the smell of his sex escaping the soft fabric from it and flowing through my senses. I cross my arms in front of my chest. “I heard you on the phone before. Is that your girlfriend or what?”

  Ty’s expression changes, grows cold. His jaw twitches. “So you listened to my private conversation?”

  “I couldn’t help it,” I lie.

  “I don’t owe you any explanations, baby boy.”

  I swallow hard, feeling the truth of it in my gut like a punch. He doesn’t owe me shit and I know it. But it hurts, even if it shouldn’t.

  “I didn’t say you did,” I mumble. “It was just a question.”

  He walks towards me, but my body can’t help from taking a step back. My hips feel a pull towards him, but my heart is telling me… back the fuck away from this man.

  “Glad you understand. Now, we can move on,” he says coldly.

  I stare into his dark, sinful eyes. I want to kiss him, or for him to kiss me. Either way, I want a kiss to happen.

  Problem is, I can feel my eyes start to well up. And there’s not a chance in hell I’m going to cry in front of this man.

  “No, I don’t. I don’t understand any of this,” I say, holding up his shirt, and then glancing around his hotel room, and then at Ty himself. “I’m leaving.”

  Ty steps back, doesn’t say a word at first. He runs his hands through his hair and shakes his head. He clasps his large fingers in front of his chin. “Well then, okay,” he says.

  My eyes narrow. I reach out and hand him his shirt. The skin of our hands touch, causing heat to shoot up my arm and into my neck. He grabs the shirt, and I pull my hand away slowly, trying my absolute hardest to draw this moment out... knowing this will go down as the last time I ever get to feel his body connect with mine.

  I’m seriously losing my mind, and leaving immediately is my reasonable only option.

  “I should go,” I say.

  “Of course.” If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he looks disappointed that I’m leaving.

  But that’s not the point. Regardless, I need to get as far away from this man as I possibly can. And that’s exactly what I set out to do as I turn and leave, never looking back for even a second.

  I keep an extra ear out as I push the elevator button for the main lobby. Ty’s door never opens though. I must be crazy for thinking he’d come after me when all he has to do is take a short walk outside and he can have a dozen other guys ready to serve him.

  Good, better them than me, I try to convince myself.

  As I exit the Royal Park Plaza hotel and head out into the bustling city street, I feel completely empty inside.

  And part of me wonders…

  Did that really just happen?

  Ty

  I head into the hotel bathroom and strip naked. I stand in front of the mirror, unable to get Jax out of my mind. I imagine bending him over this bathroom vanity, spanking him until his ass is the color of a rose. Then I would be sweet, make sure he got what he deserved. I'd slide my hands up his chest, dip my fingers in his mouth. I'd push his head down further, then slide my cock so deep inside his hole his body he'd be fully at my mercy.

  Just this thirty-second fantasy has me hard as stone. I step into the shower and wrap my hand around my cock. The water from the shower makes it easy to slide my tight grip up and down my shaft, imagining that it’s his mouth sucking and swallowing every inch of me.

  I groan wildly, the warm shower water raining down on me as I shoot my come onto the tub floor. I watch as every last drop of it gets washed down the drain.

  Then it hits me. A massive wave of emptiness. What if I can’t find him? What if the tracker in his phone doesn’t work? Obviously, with my resources, I could eventually track him down. But the last thing I need is to get anybody else involved in my temporary obsession.

  Fuck.

  I’m in for it.

  I climb out of the shower, tightly secure a fresh, white towel around my waist, and head right to my phone. I get three texts in a row from Merissa, and none of them are good. I told her I needed a little break, especially after the Men’s Fitness piece, so what does she do? She texts me that she’s flying into Boston just after midnight tonight and that she’s staying over at my place.

  Just perfect.

  She knows that there’s absolutely no chance in hell of us having a physical relationship ever again. That part of us died a long time ago.

  What�
�s survived has been purely a business arrangement for both of us, and yet somehow she still acts as if she’s my goddamn girlfriend. Or maybe my mother.

  She isn't either, regardless of what the world thinks. And right now, she’s testing my patience.

  Bad enough we have a two-hour publicity event tomorrow afternoon together. She and I are promoting my next film, Gunner 2, and helping to raise funds for the Boys and Girls Club here in Boston. That club saved my life, so doing my part to raise money, along with a couple of big wig local developers who organized the event, is the least I can do.

  Regardless, I get sick to my stomach posing in front of the camera with her for hours on end, trying to promote an image of myself that’s a total fraud.

  I don’t love Merissa and I never did.

  And I have no interest in women. Right now, I’m not even interested in ‘men’ plural.

  I’m interested in one frustratingly sexy young man.

  Jax.

  I pull up my tracking app on my phone. I need to get to Jax before Merissa arrives.

  I zoom in on Jax’s whereabouts. Some place called the Rainbow Lounge. I do a quick search; turns out it’s one of the biggest gay bars in Boston. Okay, can’t be seen with him there.

  I get an idiotic idea, finish getting dressed, and head out throw my entire career at risk.

  It’s dark out when I park my SUV across from the gay nightclub. I double check my tracker to make sure he’s still here, and he is.

  I pull my black Nike baseball hat down low, real low, so that nobody will recognize me out here. One wrong move and I could be toast.

  I find my mark, a goofy, overweight college-age kid with a guitar in one hand and a giant iced coffee in the other.

  I hand him two crisp hundred dollar bills and send him in to find anyone with the first name Jax.

  Easy enough.

  Until the first Jax isn’t even my Jax. Seems like a sick joke the universe is playing on me right now.

  Now, I slip this Jax a couple of bills and send him on the same mission as the first kid.

  I wait, patiently, for three whole minutes.

  Then I see him.

  Jax.

  My Jax.

  My gorgeous, sexy, beautiful Jax.

  Right now, under the street lights in front of the club, he looks even hotter than the image of him that I had been protecting and revisiting over and over in my mind. The tips of his golden bangs look moist, likely sweaty from dancing. I get a shooting pain in my chest as I ponder the many ways this could all go wrong.

  This is messed up. He’s barely old enough to even be at this club.

  And yet, I’ve never wanted someone so badly before.

  I find myself sitting up taller in my seat, my stomach turning. I crack the window down halfway and try to wave him over.

  Jax looks to his side, searching for whatever my paid messenger told him to search for (it was supposed to be a black SUV parked directly across the street from the club).

  I call out to him, and his eyes lock in on my car. But he doesn’t move.

  A white pickup truck with pimped-out rims rolls in, music blaring obnoxiously loud from inside the truck. Immediately, intuition kicks in and my body tenses up. The truck comes to a screeching stop in the fire lane, right in front of Jax. Three meatheads in tanks get out and instantly key in on him. The speed of my pulse feels like it just doubled. One of the men, the one who was driving, is covered in tats on his neck and arms. He drains the rest of his beer bottle down his throat and puts the empty bottle on the hood of his truck.

  My heart starts to beat like a drum in my chest. I can feel my adrenaline spike in a way that’s never happened before.

  All three men surround Jax, and I know I have to act. They’re fucking loaded on alcohol or something. Jax looks uncomfortable, trying to move around all three men who won’t let him budge.

  The driver, who’s taller and twice as thick as Jax, keeps stepping towards him until he is backed up against the outside wall of the club.

  Music is blaring from inside the club; apart from these three thugs, Jax, and myself, nobody else is in sight.

  Rage fills my veins as I practically strangle my steering wheel with my hands. I lower my hat down over my face even further, then shove the door to my SUV open. I kick the door closed, gritting down on my teeth and clenching my fists as I walk across the street.

  Jax looks nervous. His eyes are wide, and his back is up against the wall as the leader of these idiots now has one hand on his shoulder and the other one on his waist. “You are one tight piece of ass,” he says to Jax, pausing only to fetch a cigarette from his ear.

  Jax mutters something about not wanting any trouble with these guys, but the three of them just laugh in return.

  I take several steps towards them. Jax swallows hard the moment he sees me.

  My heart racing, I walk up behind the leader and hold my finger to my lips to signal Jax to play the next couple of moments cool. he shouldn't make a sound right now. I try to play things cool too as I say, "Where the hell have you been? I was looking all over for you!"

  Up close, now I can really see how afraid Jax looks, and I don't blame him. The asshole who just had his hands all over my baby boy turns to look at me. "You snooze you lose, ain't that right boys?" he says, giving both of his sidekicks a nod.

  "No, really, I'll take it from here," I say, the temperature of my blood starting to spike.

  He laughs and then looks me up and down. "You're a big man. I bet you think I give a shit, am I right? Me and my guys, we don't just fight to win, if you know what I mean."

  I let out a slow, deep breath as I try to center myself and figure out the best way of handling this disaster. "No need to fight at all. My friend and I just want to go back inside the club. Seems reasonable enough," I say.

  The leader scoffs at my attempt to avoid this situation from growing even worse. "Time for you to leave, big man. This really isn't your fucking business anymore," he says, lightly slapping the side of Jax's face.

  Feeling backed into a corner, I have to act. My adrenaline shoots through the roof as I jam my hand into the leader’s neck and shove him up against the building. One of his buddies attacks from the side, and I shove my foot into his stomach, causing something to crack in the man’s body.

  The leader is starting to squirm as I squeeze his neck even harder, draining the oxygen from his blood. I want to let him go, walk away from this ordeal as soon as possible, but I can’t tell if it's safe.

  I look over and see the guy I kicked on the ground, struggling to catch his breath while he holds onto his ribs with both hands.

  I shoot the third guy a look of death. “You want some of this too?” I snap at him. He nods no, his eyes wide and frozen.

  It kills me to see the fear in Jax's eyes as he watches me pin this loser up against the building. I get right in this motherfucker's face and say, “I think we’re done here, don’t you?” His hands grasp weakly at my forearm, desperate for me to release his neck from my grip. "I asked you a question,” I say, gritting my teeth. Finally, he nods his head up and down several times.

  I smirk and shake my head as I let go of the man’s neck and take a step back.

  All three men scurry back into their truck and speed off. When it's over, I look around and notice that five or six people from the club had come out and watched this whole scene go down. One of the men had his camera out. I shoot him a look, but before I can make him delete whatever he just caught on video, he disappears back into the club, along with the rest of the onlookers.

  I reach forward and grab Jax’s wrist. “Are you okay?”

  His eyes narrow, he looks dazed. “Thank you," he says softly.

  "You shouldn't have stepped in," he adds.

  “Yes, I should have. Let's go, I'm getting you out of here.”

  He scoffs. “You mean, you need to get yourself out of here. Am I right?”

  I study his eyes. Part of me wants to kiss his perfect l
ips as waves of relief wash over my chest, knowing he's safe. The other part wants to reason with him, make him understand how complicated my situation is.

  “I'm going back inside," he says defiantly. "No more taking orders from you."

  Jax goes to leave but I snatch his arm and pull him towards me. “Like hell you are. You’re not going anywhere but back to my place. If I hadn't shown up when I did...” my voice trails off, my gut tightening at the mere thought of what could've happened.

  He tries to pull his arm away but I won’t let him. “Let go of me, Ty. None of this makes any sense. How did you even find me?” he says.

  I grab his other hand and put it on my waist. I pin him up against the wall, electricity surging through my body the second I lock him into place. “I'll tell you what you need to know, when you need to know it. Right now, my only job is to keep you safe. And from what I've seen of you since the moment we met, all you do is rub up against danger."

  I lean in closer, despite my brain telling me to move in the opposite direction. I breathe in the intoxicating citrus scent of his cologne, my pulse quickening as I do. I tighten my grip on his forearm. “A simple thank you would’ve done fine. This is the second time in one day I've had to step in and fix shit for you," I say.

  He laughs and leans his head back against the building. "Thanks, but I 'm not broken," he says, folding his arms in front of his chest.

  I pry his hands apart and set them on my hips. "Come on, Jax, stop bullshitting yourself. You're lucky you aren’t behind bars right now, with some guy named Bubba forcing you to drop a bar of soap in the shower. Now, do you recognize that black SUV across the street?" I say, nodding towards my car.

  Through sheer will on my behalf, his eyes start to soften. "Yes," he says. I thread my hands through his arms, weakening his resolve even further. Jesus, I look deeply into his eyes and instantly flash back to those three fucks in the truck, and what they could have done to him.