Couldn’t hold in the bark of laughter that escaped then. “You mean taking care of my cock.”
“Not at all.” The seriousness in his tone caught me off guard, and the humor I’d found in this ridiculous conversation waned. “That’s not how any of this works, Parker. Have some respect.”
“Hey, man,” I hissed out, “you called me. You’ve been riding my ass to talk about a subject I have no interest in. Don’t give me shit for what you brought on.”
“Then act like the mature thirty-eight-year-old you are and take this serious.” The sound of clinking ice in a glass carried through the line then, and I looked down at my own now lukewarm beer. Nasty. Standing from my chair, I walked into the house from the deck and straight toward the kitchen. Phone placed between my shoulder and ear, I tried to pay attention to what Jax said while opening the fridge. “...those girls just like men with a certain position in life. Men who can afford a nice meal and are career oriented. Hold a position of power in their communities. They want to be taken care of, security, just like any other girlfriend would—”
“Let me stop you there.” From inside, I pulled out another beer and uncapped it. Took a deep pull from the ice-cold bottle. “Most women don’t sign up to date older rich men and take their money in exchange for the use of their bodies. That has a name, Jax. Stop trying to sell me a lie.”
“They won’t sleep with you unless they’ve initiated the act. Is that prostitution?”
“Come again?” Walking back outside, I grabbed my open laptop and made myself comfortable on a lounger. The night was a bit chilly, but welcomed after the over one-hundred-degree day we’d just had. Felt good to be outside.
“I’m going to put this in a simple/vulgar way for you, Hendrix. That way you understand once and for all.” He took a sip from his drink, the sound of him swallowing loud in my ear. “She—the girl you choose—will not suck your dick unless she wants to. Her choice to let you fuck her or not.”
I choked on the sip of beer I’d just taken. “What the hell, man!”
“The contract is very specific,” he continued as if I hadn’t just yelled. “Once you’ve chosen the one that catches your eye, a meeting will be held. All of this with her safety in mind, she will decide the where and when. Not you. Never you.”
“You are very protective.” And that was putting it mildly. Fucker sounded about to have a coronary.
“I love Crystal and won’t have you offending her. Best friend or not.”
“You’re right, and I apologize for my lack of tact. But please keep in mind that I’m not versed in this field like you.” That was the best he’d get from me. “Don’t know the protocol.”
“Shut up,” he grunted and then mumbled something I couldn’t quite make out under his breath.
“What was that?”
“I called you a hard-headed punk,” Jax grunted. “You are the most exhausting man I’ve ever met, so listen carefully.”
“Okay.”
“Boot up that laptop and login to the website using the paperwork I gave you. Check it out, go through some profiles, and keep an open mind, Hendrix. Give this a chance.”
Taking in a deep breath, I let it out slowly. Raked my fingers through my black hair and pulled a bit. “Fine.” At that moment, I’d agree to gift him my soul if the man backed off. “How does this shit work?”
“Easy.” He laughed. “Input your desired features: everything from eye color to if she’s open to a sexual relationship. Possible matches will be made, and you go through them. Think of it as a resume. Find one you like and make contact. Be honest with her, and if she likes what you offer, she will ask to meet in person. From there, if you are both on the same page, a contract will be discussed.”
“That’s it?” My tone came out more sarcastic than I had intended it to.
“Go find a woman, ass.” With that he hung up, and I let my head drop back. A star shot across the night’s sky, and I took that as a sign of the apocalypse coming.
This had bad idea written all over it.
“Let’s get this shit over with.” At least you’ll be safe from the idea of love.
No attachment other than mutual benefits. You get laid, and she, paid.
Opening my browser, I typed in the website I’d memorized from the paperwork he’d left me. Not that I would ever tell him, but I read everything inside of that plain manila folder.
Immediately the bold font on the website’s home page met my eyes. Craving Sugar, the world’s largest sugar daddy dating site, bombarded my senses with pictures of happy couples. Success stories.
Beautiful women on the arms of what looked to be your average CEO.
All smiling and flaunting their wealth.
There was no doubt I had the money. I’d become a millionaire by the age of twenty-four and my net worth had vastly multiplied over the years.
Scrolling down, I read through a few of the rules for the site and then logged in. Jax was an asshole and used @needpussynow for my password.
The questionnaire, once in, was quite simple as my profile had already been made.
“At least he chose a good picture for it,” I muttered while reading the short bio. Nothing outlandish, just some bullshit he concocted. Made me sound as if I were looking for more than someone on my arm for a short-term agreement.
Since when did you agree to this? I hadn’t. Not yet. Was just looking.
“Doing this just to get Jax off my back.” Sounded like bull even to my own ears.
Picking up my beer from the floor beside my lounger, I sipped while clicking on the “likes” and “dislikes” section.
Hair, eyes, ethnicity...I didn’t care. All that mattered were two things; she had to be intelligent, and not on any kind of drugs. Nothing that would impair her judgement.
The moment I approved of the final setup for my account and information, the messages began.
Ping after ping. My inbox flooded.
I didn’t read a single one of those messages. Those candidates reeked of desperation. If, and that was a big if, I followed through with this sham, it would be on my terms.
I’d find her.
Opening the currently available babies page, I scrolled through the pictures. Blondes, brunettes...a few red heads. All between the ages of twenty and thirty-five. Some were moms, and others were students.
Those with children were an automatic no. I wasn’t looking to be anyone’s father figure.
This is a waste of time. Sure, they were beautiful women with the bodies to match, but none caught my attention or made me pause.
Not until I saw her.
All the way at the bottom—her profile only a few hours old. Beau Carter, age twenty-three and in school, had a lot of potential.
She was an alluring creature.
Short, at only five feet and two inches, she’d fit perfectly against my harsh planes. A delicate doll with long, light brown hair and striking green eyes. And fuck me, those pouty lips of hers were heaven.
She was the first woman in years that made my cock twitch with a simple smile.
Her picture was effortless.
Gorgeous, in nothing more than a white string bikini while sitting cross-legged on a sandy beach. Eyes wide and happy, she had a serene smile on her face while soft waves crashed behind her.
She was stunning.
She would be mine.
FIVE
I tossed and turned that night.
Thinking. Analyzing. Trying to make sense of why this slip of a girl had caught my eye. And through her pictures nonetheless.
I’d memorized her entire profile.
From top to bottom: height, weight, and color of hair. The small speckles of gold in her eyes in one of the pictures—a close-up of her face. How she smiled at the lens with a carefree look.
What kind of outdoor activities she preferred.
Even her favorite ice-cream flavor would be forever ingrained in my head.
What the fuck was wrong with me?
/>
This need that bubbled up inside was dangerous. For her. For me.
I didn’t do relationships or any of the other shit attached to titles.
Running an agitated hand down my face, I tried to calm my agitation. “Fucking Jax and his bullshit. Didn’t he realize the kind of future he was thrusting upon Beau?”
Jesus, I paused there. Everything around me felt out of place.
There was no us. Would never be anything other than a mutual exchange of benefits and some fantastic sex in between. Nothing more.
Been there once, and never the hell again.
A woman like her wouldn’t want it anyways. Whores don’t do love.
My foot pressed down on the accelerator as I zoomed down the seven-mile bridge that connected the Keys to Miami. Traffic was smooth, not too many cars out on the causeway at five o’clock in the morning as I made my way to the office.
I couldn’t sleep.
My mind kept wandering back to her picture and that sweet smile that held just a smidge of sass.
A ping alerted me to an incoming message and I looked over at the screen placed in a holder. Jax’s name flashed across, and I pulled over. Why would he message me this early?
These messages will begin and not stop until you have checked the profile made for you on Craving Sugar. Don’t make them escalate to harassment. I am prepared. ~Jax
That motherfucker.
“I’m going to kill him,” I hissed out, angry that he’d start his crap this early. But then, just as quick at the annoyance mounted, it vanished and I laughed. Laughed so hard, that for a moment I couldn’t breathe. Could imagine him setting those messages up with that constipated face he’d make while concentrating.
Jesus Christ, the man was persistent.
If only he knew...
Every hour on the hour. Last warning. ~Jax
Was tempted to answer him, but then again, I was never going to let him know just how interested I’d become. More than interested. Needed to meet this girl on my own and figure out why I’d developed a slight obsession in the last ten hours.
Opening the web page once more, I checked to see if we had been matched, and nothing. Her profile had more views to it, as had mine, but nothing between us.
That didn’t sit well with me, and I frowned. “She has until I reach the office to message me.”
There was no way that I’d let her slip through my fingers. No one would have her, at least, not until I discovered what was so special first.
Maybe that was vain of me, but I gave no fucks. Beau could find me the same way the others had.
With my new resolve in place, I pulled back into traffic with my radio on full blast. It was just me, the occasional car, and the open road.
The smell of salt water surrounded me, but today it didn’t have the same calming effect. My restlessness was getting the better of me. Not knowing—having immediate answers—wasn’t a feeling I was used to.
I’d never had to wait on anything. Taking what I wanted was second fucking nature.
That girl had ruined my day, and it was only half past five now. My time to think every Monday morning while driving from the Keys into the city was filled with curious questions:
Why was she on that site?
Had she been matched?
How soon could I have her pinned beneath me?
“Fuck,” I hissed low, my hand pressing down on my hard cock. Her pictures had been my undoing. Chosen specifically to ruin anything with a pulse. The image of her in tiny shorts—that bikini—would forever be tattooed in my mind.
I pressed down harder on the accelerator, needing to get to my office and focus on anything other than her. I’d give her until midday to find me or else...
Else what? You weren’t interested in this type of relationship.
People change. I changed my mind.
Now, I want her. Consequences be damned.
“You’re here early, sir,” Kaitlyn, my secretary, called out as I walked past her and into my office. I ignored her and the way she fluttered her fake lashes at me.
Rule number one for any man with a successful business: don’t fuck anyone on your payroll. Not because of a moral high ground or anything, but because people tend to get the wrong ideas. Believed that they meant more to you than a tight hole.
My phone pinged again, and I tapped the screen.
Tap the link below if you like pussy... ~Jax
Following his next text was the link for Craving Sugar and the available babies page. Asshole.
For a forty-year-old, he was a bit infantile. Immature as all fuck, but a smart and ruthless lawyer. The epitome of an overgrown frat boy; how he flipped between characteristics will forever be a mystery.
Working. You should try it sometime. ~Hendrix
Ahhh...so you do know how to work a phone. Click the link, man, or I will for you. ~Jax
And because I’d become a sick bastard, I did, but my sole reason for doing so was Beau.
To look at her picture and admire the natural beauty she possessed. A slip of a girl that I’d never met.
My reaction to her made no sense, but my dick liked what he saw and so did I.
A knock at the door caused me to look away from my phone. “Can I get you anything, Mr. Parker. Coffee?”
Nodding, I waved her in. “Black, and hold all my calls today. No visitors or last-minute meeting requests.” Kaitlyn opened her mouth to speak, but the look I gave her caused her to close it. “As far as everyone is concerned, I’m not here. Understood?”
“Of course, sir, but what about the—”
“I didn’t hire you to question my choices.” Leveling her with a steely gaze, I leaned back in my chair. “I’m not here. Understood?”
“Yes.” It left her in a whimper, and it took everything within me not to roll my eyes. Instead, I tilted my head in the direction of the door and made my request clear. For her to leave.
With a smile, Kaitlyn did so. Sashayed out, and for the first time her behavior bothered me.
Something I normally overlooked—found amusing—annoyed me.
Shaking my head at the thought, I opened my locked drawer and pulled out my laptop. Within three minutes I was back again on the site and writing down notes. Looking for a certain clue.
“Just where do you go to school, nymph,” I muttered while flipping through her pictures once more. There was one of hers that made me pause. “Bingo.”
I knew that library—the building behind her—like the back of my own hand.
I spent many nights in that building while in college.
Mulling things over in my head, I recognized I had two options. Show up, or message her.
“Here you go, sir.” Kaitlyn placed my cup of coffee down, her body angled over my desk, eyes trying to see what I was doing.
“You may leave.” The bite in my tone didn’t escape her, and she jumped a bit.
“Sorry.” She gave me a sheepish look. “Was just curious. Are you working on something new?”
“I’m sorry, is being curious part of your job description? Did I miss the memo for this change?” While she looked at me, eyes wide and with a hint of fear, I turned the laptop so there wasn’t any visibility. “Get out, and make sure I am not disturbed.”
“Of course.” Kaitlyn scurried out and closed the door behind her, the small thud loud inside my quiet office space.
Fuck me, I could have been caught.
That wouldn’t do.
What the hell was this Beau Carter doing to me? I’d brought this mess into my office and was considering breaking rules I’d set in place for a reason. Work and personal never mixed well.
Sitting back in my chair, I contemplated my choices.
Getting caught hiring a legal call girl was not on my list of top priorities. Going to her school and getting the information I needed wouldn’t be hard, but costly. Without her schedule, I had no clue as to where she would be.
So instead, I clicked on the small envelope besid
e her name. “Message it is...for now.”
From: NotOneForGames
To: HigherEd-CoEd
Date: Mon at 9:15 a.m.
Subject: Meet me...
Miss Carter,
I am quite intrigued by your short bio and pictures.
Meet with me. Tonight. I’ll have a table booked at Zuma for 8p.m. sharp.
Don’t make me wait.
Hendrix Parker
Short and to the point, I hit send and closed my laptop before my rational mind asked me to reconsider.
Fuck the rules.
We’d meet on my terms.
Picking up my coffee mug, I stood from my chair and walked over to the floor-to-ceiling windows inside my office. Stared out into the morning sky while appreciating the view of the small crashing waves below.
Outside my door, I heard as everyone came in and started their day. Greetings made, and then the opening of doors following the rush of people.
My name was called out by someone, but nothing came after. Instead, more movement followed. All the while I stayed where I was, watching the city of Miami come alive.
Seagulls flew across my line of sight, and I followed them toward a pier below just as my phone vibrated atop my desk.
Three small vibrations that caused a rush of adrenaline to spike my blood.
That wasn’t a text.
On my next breath, the phone was in my hands and the screen opened. An email displaying Beau’s response had come in, and I clicked on the link.
From: HigherEd-CoEd
To: NotOneForGames
Date: Mon at 9:40 a.m.
Subject: Not how this works...
Mr. Parker,
I am quite confused by your message. Have I contacted you before?
Do we know each other for such demands? From what I gather, as I am new to this sort of relationship, is that the woman decides the when and where.
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