This question has been rattling in my brain since I asked Gia to do this experiment with me. I’ve been in a relationship before, but it wasn’t serious. When I was a senior in high school, I dated my American History teacher, Lucy; she was twenty-eight, and I was eighteen. She popped my cherry in the back of my truck. When I got accepted to NYU, I dumped her. I fed her some bullshit lie about wanting to focus on my future, but in reality, I wanted to fuck new pussy.
I hear a baby scream in the background, and it’s the ass-crack of dawn. If I hadn’t agreed to double the price I’m paying her, she wouldn’t allow me to call her this early in the morning.
“Yeah, of course. Why do you ask?”
“I’m casually dating a girl I’ve wanted since college.” I stressed the word casually, so she knows that this relationship isn’t going anywhere.
“Oh,” she says as if it caught her off guard.
I tell her everything about Gia, and how I moved her into my condo. How she works for me as my PA. I grab my thick glass of whiskey, and I sip it. I’ve gotten so used to the taste of it that the liquid doesn’t burn my throat.
“Gunner, what is love?” Hannah asks, and I set the glass down on the metal desk as I stare at my college degree hanging on my gray walls.
“If you’re saying what I think you’re saying, then you’re fired because I’m not in love with Gia.”
She must be high to even think that.
She ignores my idle threats. “That is your new assignment—find out what love is, and let me know the answer. I have to go, I’ll see you next week.”
The line goes dead, and I walk back to my bedroom, which is located down the hall from my office. The balcony’s sliding glass door is open, inviting the morning breeze. Slowly, I walk outside to find Gia leaning over the iron railing with her buds in her ears she aims her camera at the landscape of my backyard.
The sun plays peek-a-boo with the trees and the grass is freshly cut. A memorial tree wrapped in baby blue I planted in honor of my late nephew is just off to the right.
My cotton T-shirt hangs very loosely on her small frame. She crosses her foot over the other one and bobs her head as she sings off tune to a rock song. Her messy brown hair flops over her shoulders.
I like this view a lot, maybe too much. Slowly I take long strides toward her, wrapping my arms around her waist, resting my chin on top of her head. Her scent invades my nostrils. She smells of apple orchard, pure and utter euphoria. And she tastes like the wet air after it rains.
We stand like this for what seems like forever, and I close my eyes, listening to the birds chirp loudly.
I like spending my time with her.
I like her here in my space.
I like that she likes me for me even though she sucks at hiding how she truly feels.
She spins around, removing the buds from her ears, and smiles through swollen lips, especially her bottom lip. It’s red with a cut. Damn, I was too rough on her last night.
Gia is as beautiful as a nautical twilight. Where the blue sky blends with pink hues, and you can’t tell where heaven begins and where the earth ends. Her face shines brighter than a million stars.
“Hi.” I use my index finger to clean the crust from her eye.
“Morning,” she says.
I slowly lean down and examine her neck, decorated with purple and pink hickeys. “You look well fucked.”
Her cheeks are flushed, and she flashes me her pearly whites. “I’ll make sure to write a review and leave a five-star on Yelp,” she says, then stands on her tippy toes and kisses the bridge of my nose.
“Smartass.”
She giggles at my answer. I like this carefree version of her. At work, she’s wound up and at home, she’s relaxed.
I don’t want to put a damper on our morning, but seeing those scars on her stomach and back worried me. While she slept after I fucked her five times last night, I didn’t get any sleep. Instead, I stayed up, tracing my fingers on her body, studying her like a map.
I need to get to the nitty-gritty about why she has scars. Who the fuck would do that to her?
“Gia, I have a question. Be honest.”
Curiosity swims in her eyes and she nods.
“What happened to you? Who put those scars on you?”
Her eyes dart away from mine as soon as I utter the question. “I need to cook you breakfast, then maybe we can go to a drive-in theater. On Saturdays they show old movies.”
“Answer me.” My voice is full of exasperation.
“On second thought, we can stay in and watch Netflix.” She entwines her fingers with mine as distress dances in her eyes.
Classic Gia. Always dodging questions when she doesn’t want to answer them.
Gently I grip her chin to show her how fucking serious I am about this. She doesn’t get to shut me out—that ship fucking sailed the minute she agreed to be mine.
“Answer the fucking question, or we’re going to have a problem, Rainbow.”
Tears wet her eyes, but goddamn, seeing those fucking scars brought back memories of my dad leaving scars and bruises on my ma. This hits too close to home for me.
“My ex. He used to beat me in college.” Sadness slices through her face like a sword; she licks her bottom lip.
Guilt eats at me like a disease. She was getting abused right under my nose, and I didn’t know. What kind of man was I to allow that shit to happen to her? Her not speaking to me should have been a red flag, but it wasn’t. I thought she didn’t like me. Fuck, I could have protected her and gotten her help.
And a lightbulb goes off in my head. “Is that why you ignored me when you were working at the library in college?”
“Yes.” She pauses. “I wasn’t allowed to speak to other men because he thought I was going to sleep around on him. He was afraid I would turn into a prostitute like my mom.”
I die a million times at her words. This motherfucker is going to pay. “I’ve never seen you with bruises.”
I used to study every inch of her face, even the way she would hunch over when she put up books. I even used to be able to predict which knee-high socks she would wear that day. I was obsessed with her and still am. My brain can’t comprehend how she has this hold on me.
“That’s because he only hurt me in places no one could see.”
“I wish you’d told me. I would have saved you. Fuck, Rainbow.” We’re quiet for several minutes. Her face scrunches up in pain.
“Who is he?” I ask through clenched teeth and she shakes her head.
“He’s gone, it doesn’t matter. I ran away from him the night he . . .” She trails off, and I rest my forehead against hers.
So intimate.
So foreign.
Being with Rainbow is so fucking liberating, like breathing in fresh air at sunrise.
“Go on.”
“Please, I don’t want to ruin our day.” And she pulls her forehead from mine.
I need to shower; her pussy juices are coating my dick like snow coats the ground after a blizzard.
“Shower with me,” I say before licking her bruised lips.
“I already took one.”
“Take another one.” I need to be inside her as much as possible.
“Okay,” she says, and I flip her over my shoulder like a rag doll, grabbing a handful of her ass. “Gunner!” She giggles, and I slap her ass as she playfully beats her tiny fists on my back.
“Say you’re mine.”
“I’m yours.”
She doesn’t know how much those two words resonate in my bones.
As I sit at the breakfast nook, I watch Gia lean against the stove, pushing shrimp in the stainless-steel skillet with a spatula. I’m surprised she’s still standing after I fucked her against the glass shower. As soon as we are finished eating, I’m not going to waste any time getting back inside her.
She turns around with a smile plastered across her face and says, “Netflix uploaded a new series of Dynasty. I think we should
check it out.”
“You never heard of that show?” I cock my eyebrow. “It came out in the 1980s.”
She turns back around, facing the stove, pulls the skillet to another burner, and turns the knob off. “I have seen that one, but CW rebooted it and the first season is out.”
“We’re not going to watch the show. I’m going to be too busy fucking you until my dick falls off.” Her pussy is like liquor to me.
She climbs on the lava counter to grab the tortillas from the top shelf. I tilt my head to the side, trying to get a look at her bare pussy, but I can’t because she hops down from the counter too quickly.
Fuck me. My dick is hard again. I might have to run to Costco and grab a few forty-packs of condoms.
“No, Wolf. You’re going to keep your manly parts to yourself. I’ve been waiting for this show to come out since last year.”
“Use me as a chair and sit on my face while you watch the show.”
“You’re such a horndog.” She rolls her eyes. “I need to talk to you about something,” she says, grabbing a round, blue plate from the black cabinet right next to the fridge, placing one in front of me. “I need to find another place to live if we’re going to keep doing whatever we’re doing.”
“I prefer the term ‘dating,’” I interject.
She smiles at my words and opens the bag, placing a tortilla on my plate. “I need to find a new roomie as well.” She grabs a spatula and dumps shrimp onto the plate along with sour cream, salsa, and lettuce.
“Why? I like having access to you twenty-four seven.” I grimace.
“Well, I don’t want to get attached to you. I’m afraid that if we spend too much time together, it will happen.” She sits on the barstool next to me.
I’m already attached to her. We’ve been living together for two months and I can’t picture living without her. Not because of the sex, but because I want to get closer to her. She’s the yin to my yang. We click. My emotions are all over the place with Gia. Yep, I’m officially pussy-whipped, that explains why I’m having crazy thoughts.
“No.”
“But I have to protect myself. I don’t want to depend on you. When things go south for us I won’t have anything to fall back on, and I’ll be back at square one. I’ll have to find a job, and I’ll have to find somewhere else to live. Unlike you, I don’t have tons of money. I’ll be left jobless and homeless with emotional scars. I’m not repeating history.”
I want to probe her for more answers about her last statement, but after our conversation earlier this morning it’s best not to ask. She’ll close up like a clam, and I don’t want to ruin our day with depressing shit.
She doesn’t have any hope for us to work, and I don’t blame her. And I need to remind myself that this is an experiment. She isn’t going to stick around if she finds out about my PTSD—it would be a lot to accept, and I won’t burden her with my demons.
I don’t like it, the thought of her not being with me all day, but I see her point of view. And in fact, I admire that about her. She isn’t trying to milk money out of me.
“Find another job, but I’m not giving in on you moving out. I’ll put the condo in your name so when the shit hits the fan between us I’ll be the one to move out.”
“Thanks for understanding,” she says, with a smile plastered on her face.
“Welcome.”
Awkward silence settles between us, and she watches me as I wolf down the shrimp tacos.
“You’re not going to eat?”
“I already ate ice-cream and cookies this morning while you were in your office.” I turn my head sideways and she continues. “I only eat sweets on Saturdays.”
“I know that, but why?”
“It’s comfort food day for me.” She pats my shoulder. “I started the tradition when I was sixteen. After bouncing from home to home, not having any roots, I decided to start my own tradition. So, on Saturdays, I pig out on my favorite sweets.”
I place my hand on the barstool she’s sitting at and pull her closer to me. “We’ll start our own traditions,” I tell her. “We’ll watch shows together.”
“We already do that.”
“Yeah, but we need to plan a day.”
She smiles, twirling the ends of her hair. “Tuesdays and Sundays. They’ll be our days.”
“Not on Sundays. What about Saturday?” I lean forward and kiss her on her lips.
“Why not Sundays?” She arches her eyebrow.
“I spend those days with my family.”
I don’t have to tell her about Cora or Rylee. We’re not actually in a relationship, and I don’t answer to her.
“Okay.”
After I finish eating, she cleans my plate and the skillet and puts them in the cabinet, not bothering to use my dishwasher.
“You want a tour of the mansion?” I ask, standing up from the stool, and tuck it under the nook.
“I already took one. I counted thirteen rooms and ten bathrooms. Why do you need so much space?”
“I don’t. I bought this place as a trophy so every time I look at it, it reminds me how far I’ve come in life.” I twitch my mouth.
“It’s beautiful, so big and spacious. I like it, especially the mini-movie theater you have and the deck. Your furniture and drapes look expensive. I’ve never seen any of the fabric.”
“I hired an interior designer to import my shit from France and Italy.”
“Hmmm, fancy,” she says, giggling.
Time to get down to business.
I grab her by the ass and set her on the flat surface of the nook, spreading her legs, ready to feast on my real meal.
“Gunner,” she says breathlessly. “I’m very sore, so we have to hold off on sex, just for a few days.”
“I won’t fuck you, I’ll just lick your clit, okay?” I drop to my knees on the cold marble floor and sling her legs around my shoulders.
“Okay,” she says, placing her hand on the back of my head, nudging me toward her pussy.
“Someone’s getting bold.” I inhale the scent of her and my dick aches.
“I’m sorry. Your tongue is so addictive.”
The doorbell rings, and Gia wrinkles her nose.
“I wasn’t expecting anyone today,” I say. If it’s Tom, my gardener, he knows the code to get into my mansion to get himself something to drink or eat. I rush through the living room and open the oak door. My mom stands on the threshold holding her glass bowl and sage stick. She looks lovely wearing a cream blouse and black dress pants with heels.
Oh, shit. Oh, shit.
I’ve never taken a woman to officially to meet my ma. She knows I fuck around with different women, but Gia is the first woman I’ve taken seriously, and I don’t know how my ma would respond to Rainbow.
“Hey, honey. I’m here to do your monthly house cleansing.” She walks inside, and I shut the door behind her. Every month my ma comes by and cleanses my house of negative energy. Today, she’s in one of her chipper moods; her cleansing is like her alcohol. I think that stick gets her drunk. “After I’m done, we’ll spend time together, cook lunch, and you’ll tell me about your week. Herold is working late at the shop again.”
“I forgot you were coming,” I say, rubbing my neck. “I have a guest.”
It’s too soon to introduce Gia to her. If my ma doesn’t like Rainbow that might be a problem for me. After my dad left my ma, she made it her mission to learn how to read people and she’s good at it, and she accepts everyone. So if she doesn’t like you she has a valid reason. Bottom line is, if my ma doesn’t fuck with you, I’m not fucking with you.
“Who is it? Darien, Logan, or Matt? They can join us,” she says, smiling. Her white pumps click against the wooden floor as she heads to the living room.
“You haven’t met this person,” I say. Her eyes light up when she sees Gia holding a remote in her hand, aiming it at the flat screen TV.
“Who is this?” Ma’s eyes ping-pong between me and Gia, then she smiles at
both of us. Gia looks at me and her with a blank expression, sucking on her bottom lip.
“Gia,” I answer for her. “We’re dating.”
Surprise flickers in my mom’s eyes as she studies Gia like a different species.
“Gia, can I see your hand, please?” my momma asks, and Gia looks at me, swallowing hard. I shrug. Reluctantly, Gia holds out her hand and my ma sets down the bowl and sage on the metal table in front of the couch. Ma holds her hand gently and flips it over, tracing her manicured nail on the lines on the inside of her palm.
Ma is into palm and tarot card reading. When I was a kid, I used to be embarrassed by her, but now I love her for who she is. A caring, quirky woman.
She makes ‘hmm’ and ‘aww’ noises, and Gia looks uncomfortable.
“You’re a sweet person, very quiet, but I sense a little sorrow in you.” Ma smiles. “I like you.”
I sigh in relief. Thank fuck.
“Gunner, she’s pretty and different from the whores you fuck.”
“Ma!” I say, and Gia giggles like a schoolgirl.
“I’m just being honest. You should settle down. You’re turning thirty-one years old in a few weeks.” Ma pinches my cheek then kisses it. I hate my birthday, and I hate she’s reminding me of it. Why do women act like it’s the end of the world when you’re not married or don’t have kids? Ever since I hit thirty, Ma, Alana, and a few women I fucked have asked me when I’m going to settle down and have a family. Like it’s a fucking crime to be single.
She leans toward Gia, examining the hickeys on her neck. “At least y’all are getting a headstart on my grandbabies.”
Rainbow covers her neck, and her cheeks turn red.
“Oh, honey, don’t be embarrassed. Sex is natural.”
Okay, Ma is getting a little too bold for my liking.
“Ma, it’s time for you to go.” I grab her bowl and that stinking-ass sage stick and shove them in her hands.
“Are you coming to our Labor Day cookout?” she asks Gia.
Gia gives a nervous laugh and says, “Okay.”
“Gunner, make sure you give her my number.”
Chasing Gunner Page 12
