11. Hunter
eleven
hunter
I CAN’T CONCENTRATE at practice this morning.
And it’s all because of her. Stevie.
She actually signed the contract. I couldn’t believe it when the email came back with her signature on the line. I thought she would call my bluff. Of course, I was hoping she’d sign it, but I didn’t think she’d really do it.
She must need money bad.
I know she wants to fuck me, but when you add money to the equation, things can get weird.
For the record, I’ve never paid a woman for sex; I’ve never had to.
But the feeling of control it gives me to pay Stevie for her body is intoxicating.
I want her fully in my power. And knowing the money will help her pay rent and bills makes me feel like a goddamn king.
I can’t let my girl go around donating plasma or working shitty waitressing jobs. Let her think I just want her for sex; she doesn’t have to know that I feel this bone-deep desire to take care of her.
“Cruise! Wake up! Get your damn head in the game!” Coach White shouts.
My teammates all turn around to look at me.
Coach never yells at me. My head is always in the game.
I shake it off and turn on the laser-focus I’m known for, and somehow get through the rest of practice without thinking of Stevie.
But she’s back on my mind when we hit the showers.
I picture us in the shower in my penthouse, the water running down her bare skin in rivulets, me soaping her up, rubbing her tits, thrusting my fingers inside her. I want her desperate and begging for me. I want her panting for me.
My cock stirs and I snap out of the daydream, turning the shower on as cold as I can handle it. Shit. I’m really fucking gone.
Jamie is smirking at me when I return to my locker, a towel wrapped around my waist.
“What?” I snap at him.
He raises his hands in mock surrender. “Nothing,” he says, grinning. “Nothing at all.”
“Fuck off, West.”
Since he’s already dressed, he grabs his bag and leaves, chuckling all the way. I hate that perceptive fucker. We’ve been friends for too long. Sometimes I think he can read my mind.
I have to fuck Stevie tonight. My cock’s been aching for her.
Now that the contract’s been signed, it’s all I can think about. I dress quickly and grab my phone, about to shoot her a text message, when it rings. The name on the screen is like a bucket of ice-cold water on my head.
I pick up. “Yeah, Dad.”
“Hunter. I need you at dinner tonight.”
“I have plans.”
“Cancel them.”
“I can’t—”
“Yes, you can. Don’t argue with me. It’s a dinner with some potential investors. They want to meet my son, the hockey star, and you’ll be there. Understood?”
I grit my teeth. “Fine.”
“Good boy.”
I hang up and resist the urge to throw my phone across the room.
Nobody gets under my skin like my father.
Nobody. He’s been a hard ass since I was a kid, pushing me into all sorts of extracurriculars.
I’ve tried every sport known to man, because he wanted his son to be a star, even when I protested. Even when my mom protested.
Luckily, hockey stuck with me. From the first moment I got on the ice as a 7-year-old, I was hooked. All the anxiety seemed to melt away when I was skating. Because it almost felt like flying.
I exhale loudly and grab my bag, finally leaving the locker room. I have to get through this damn dinner somehow.
AFTER THREE INTERMINABLE hours, the dinner with the potential investors is finally over, and I’m fully wrung out.
I’m good at pretending.
Since I was a pre-teen, I’ve had to learn how to schmooze.
Talking to adults always came easily to me, because I knew what they wanted.
I can be polite and charismatic when the occasion calls for it.
Coach has told me it’ll help me land sponsorships after I get signed.
That’s how he says it – like my being signed is a given.
Coach is a better father figure to me than my own father.
But Benjamin Cruise was on fire tonight.
My father is excellent at hiding his true self.
Nobody would ever suspect that the suave and cultured real estate mogul is actually a monster.
He’ll kiss your ass and laugh at your jokes and hang on your every word, making you feel like the most important person in the world, as long as he gets what he wants out of you.
And once you’re caught in his web, you’re fucked. It’s exactly what happened to my mom.
I get in my car before my dad can stop me and force me into some bullshit conversation.
I need to get this rage out of me, and there’s only one way to do it.
I dictate a message to Stevie, telling her to meet me at my place in an hour.
I send her the address, making it clear that our deal is off if she doesn’t show up.
The only way to calm myself down tonight is to finally be inside my little princess.
I don’t know what’s got me so obsessed with her, but she’s burrowed into my fucking brain like a foxtail spike.
If she refuses to come over tonight, I’ll drive straight to her apartment and drag her out.
The need for her consumes me. Hopefully, a good, long, rough fucking will dislodge her from my brain, and I can go back to normal.
My bedroom is ready. The cleaners came yesterday and changed my sheets. I make sure my ropes, handcuffs, and other toys are in the drawer next to my bed. I won’t use the nipple clamps on her tonight, but I’m definitely tying her up. My cock twitches at the thought.
I check the time. She should be here in 30 minutes.
I call downstairs to let my doorman, Eddie, know to expect her.
I used to live in the Hockey House with some of my teammates, but then my grandfather gifted me this penthouse on my 21st birthday back in January.
It’s nice having space all to myself and not having to hear my teammate fucking some girl against our shared wall at three in the morning.
I pour myself some water and go sit on the couch, scrolling my phone.
The anticipation is killing me. I can’t let her know how desperate she makes me; I’m supposed to be in control.
I plan on being rough tonight. She can use the safe word if she wants me to stop, but if she doesn’t, all bets are off.
I don’t think I can fuck her gently when I’m so keyed up.
Most of my former lovers didn’t like it rough, so I had to keep that shit vanilla for them.
It was boring as fuck for me, but I’d never force a woman to do something she doesn’t want.
I’ve had more adventurous lovers too, ones who liked to experiment, but it’s been a while.
Will sweet, innocent Stevie be like the former, or the latter?
I check my Rolex. She should be here in the next five minutes. If she’s late, even by one minute, she’s getting punished.
She signed the contract; she knows what it entails.
Eddie calls, telling me my guest is on her way up. She’s four minutes early. What a punctual little princess she is. I get up and walk to the front door, opening it. Leaning against the doorjamb, I wait for Stevie, my arms crossed against my chest.
She steps out of the elevator and looks around, tugging at the hem of her white lace dress.
It falls almost to her knees and has short little sleeves and a high neckline.
Her blonde waves fall halfway down her back and her lips are painted a soft pink.
Virginal. That’s how she looks. My cock hardens at the thought of taking her virginity.
I want to come all over that prim, demure dress, dirtying it. Dirtying her.
She spots me by the door and walks over, looking apprehensive.
“Right on time,” I say as she approaches me. I take her hand and lead her inside, locking the door behind me. She stops short.
“This is your place?” she asks, sounding awed.
“Yep.”
“How?”
“One of the many properties my family owns around the city,” I explain. “You want something to drink? Soda? Water?”
“Sure,” she says, eyes still exploring the penthouse. “I’ll have some water.”
I pour her a glass and hand it over. Our fingers touch as she takes it from me and finally turns her attention to me, sipping the water and holding my gaze the whole time. If she’s nervous, she’s not showing it at all.
“You ready for tonight?” I ask her.
She nods.
“You sure?”
She swallows delicately. “I signed the contract.”
Pure satisfaction races through me at her words. “Yes, you did. And only I can break it. Understand?”
She nods.
“Good girl.”
I take the water glass from her when she’s done and place my hand against her lower back. I can’t wait anymore. “Let’s go,” I say, leading her to the bedroom.
“Can I get a tour of your place?”
“Later, princess. First, we fuck.”
She doesn’t say anything until we’re in my room. I thought of laying out my sex toys, but I don’t want to scare her away before we’ve even gotten started. She sees the ropes secured to my headboard and stares at me with wide eyes. “What are those for?”
“That’s for tying you up, princess.”
“You’re going to tie me up?”
I nod, daring her to balk. “Is that a problem?”
She shakes her head.
“Then go stand in the middle of the room and take off your dress.” I sit down at the edge of the bed where I can get the perfect view of her following my orders. When she hesitates, I say, “Go. Now.”
Making a woman strip for me turns me on like almost nothing else. I’ve been hard since Stevie got off the elevator, but as soon as she plucks at her sleeves and shimmies out of her dress, letting it pool by her feet, my cock gets painfully hard, straining against my pants.
She stands before me in a white lace thong and white lace bra.
“Turn around,” I rasp.
She does as she’s told, turning me on even more. I feel precum leaking from my tip and I clench my fist. Fuck.