Chapter 12
GUNNER
“What the f*ck is going on, Gunner?” Rochelle seethes in my face.
“Not now,” I say. I start toward my office, unable to watch anymore of this shit, and Rochelle is right on my damn heels. “You don’t need to follow me, Rochelle.”
She doesn’t listen.
“Haven’t I told you before that desperation isn’t a good luck on you?” I ask as I stop in the doorway and turn toward her so quick that she jumps back, making me pause, because it’s so not like her to be startled.
I must be really f*cking out of control.
“You either,” Rochelle spits back. She’s right. I’m f*cking desperate. Desperately in love with Harlow. Desperate to do things the right way this time.
Except, I seem to be f*cking them up worse with every passing second.
“What the hell was that back there?” She pushes past me into my office and plops down onto the raggedy leather sofa. “I thought you were done with her.”
I stare up at the ceiling and rake my hands through my hair. I don’t know what the f*ck I’m doing.
“I thought it was going to be a good night for us, and then I come here and that brat is sashaying all over the place and you’re too busy marking your territory around her to even notice me. Or this new dress I bought.” Rochelle pushes her bottom lip out into her best pout and loops her fingers through the tie holding her entire get-up closed. “If you were paying more attention, you would have noticed by now that I’m not wearing anything under this. And it’s all for you.”
“Rochelle—” I start, but she stands up and yanks on the strings, letting the thin, black dress split at the front and fall to the floor. She wasn’t kidding about not wearing anything underneath. I kick the door closed because now my office is full of smooth, bronzed skin and amazing curves. I swallow hard before speaking.
I’m a fool, but not a big enough one that I don’t realize that a body like Rochelle’s is a thing of f*cking beauty. “Rochelle, get dressed.”
“Don’t pretend you don’t want me, Gunner.” She traces a slow circle with her index finger around her belly button. She’s so damn confident in herself, in us as a couple, in the life that we could have together.
“There’s a pile of people out there, Rochelle. And we’re not doing this. Get dressed.”
This time, I reach down and grab her dress. I walk toward her, close enough that I can smell the heavy perfume she always wears, see the familiar way her brown hair rests on her shoulders and falls down over her tits. I can’t help but think of all of the times I pushed her hair aside and sucked on her neck.
Being with Rochelle wasn’t all bad, but a future with her just isn’t what I want. My heart is out there dancing for a crowd of a*sholes.
I hand over the dress, and instead of reaching for it, Rochelle cocks a smile and reaches for my zipper.
“Come on Gunner, let me remind you how good it is.” She walks her long fingernails up my arm and God, I love Harlow, but f*ck me if I don’t have to suck in a deep breath and will myself to tell her to stop. “I can make Little Miss Goodie Two-Shoes dance right out of your mind, forever.”
I push her hair back away from her ear and lean in close.
“We had a great time, Rochelle. But it’s over. Now get dressed. Please.” I say.
She exhales sharply, grabs the dress from my hand and steps into it quickly.
“Are you kidding me, Gunner? You’re seriously walking away from me? For that?”
“Don’t make this a big thing, Chelle. Let’s just accept that we aren’t a good fit and should go our separate ways, okay?”
She looks up from the knot she’s tying to close her dress and glares at me.
“Is this for real? You honestly think that we—we—aren’t a good fit? But you and Harlow make sense? Give me a break, Gunner. You’re going to break her—or her heart—faster than you can down a bottle of Jack. And don’t think Ryker, and guys like him won’t be lining up to try to get a piece of her, knowing she’s all wounded and hurt by the great Gunner Hunt. You really want to put her through that? You know damn well it’s true.”
She slips her feet back into her high-as-hell heels. “You and I have a connection, whether you want to admit it or not. And if it wasn’t for Blondie showing back up in town, we’d be on our way to become a Mr. and Mrs.”
“We weren’t quite there,” I say. “We’ve had problems before. And you know I’ve never been one to settle down, you knew that from the first night we met. I never made you any promises, Rochelle.”
“But you’d settle down for her,” she says.
Her voice isn’t accusatory or angry this time. It’s calm and laced with a little hurt. And it dawns on me, like it should have forever ago, that Rochelle wants this thing to work with me like I do with Harlow. And she may annoy the piss out of me some days, but she isn’t a bad person, and she f*cking deserves someone who really cares about her, not some a*shole who screws her, but only to try to calm the aching in his chest caused by the girl he really does love.
“You’d be settling to be with me,” I say.
“I don’t think so,” Rochelle says, smoothing her tiny dress down and avoiding my eyes. “I’m crazy about you, even if you drive me insane most days.”
I let out a low chuckle. I’m trying really hard to keep this low-key.
“You’re right, we do make sense. We have the same story from growing up, you get me, Rochelle, you really do. And I care about you—”
“But?” she says. Like she doesn’t already know the “but.”
“I’m in love with someone else. Someone who doesn’t fit neatly into my world, but she challenges the shit out of me. I want that for you, doll. I don’t want you to give away the chance to have you really deserve for some low-life like me.”
“You’re going to hurt her,” Rochelle warns, her voice trembling.
“God, I hope you’re wrong about that.” I rub my hand over my face.
“I just...I don’t understand really why I’m not good enough. I look the other way when it comes to all your a*shole habits, I’m hot, I give amazing head—”
“All worthy qualities,” I laugh. “And someday you’re going to make some man very, very happy with those traits.”
She stares down at the floor, her lips twisted in a frown. “Just not you, is what you’re saying.”
I exhale a huge sigh of relief. She’s getting it. Without yelling at me, or punching me, or tossing aside those long, dangly earrings to go try to attack Harlow.
“I sorta like the thing your brother’s got going on. Gone for a week or two at a time? Sounds like there’s lots of time for earth-shattering homecomings,” Rochelle says, a single dark eyebrow raised.
“Are you seriously expecting me to set you up with Ryker?”
“No, of course not,” she says flustered. If Rochelle is flustered, you know an idea is damn crazy. “I mean, that’d be super weird, right?”
“Okay, cool.” I lean back in my chair.
“I mean, like, if he were to ask about me, now that I’m available...”
I stand up and make my way out of the room and this weird-as-hell conversation. “Chelle, I’ve got to get back out there.”
“Fine.” She stomps her stiletto in defeat.
“Oh, and Chelle?” I pause with my hand on the doorknob.
She gives me a look that’s half sullen, half hopeful. “Yep?”
“We’re good, right? I mean, I know it’s gonna take some getting used to, but you’re not going to go screw with Harlow are you? Because I can’t let you do that.”
Rochelle scoffs. “That skinny little twig? No way. She looks like a hair puller, and I love your cock something fierce, Gunner, but I’m not going to go start a fight with some girl who will f*ck with my weave. This hair? Not cheap.”
“Don’t I know it,” I say, thinking of all the times I forked over the dough for her beauty treatments.
“Bye, Gunner,” Rochelle says with a little wave.
I should feel a weight lifted walking away from her. It’s what I’ve wanted to do for so long. But I can’t help but feel like a huge tool leaving Rochelle like this. Every time I’d tried to break it off before, she wore me down with her persistence, fast talk, and sexy clothes.
This time is different.
This time, I’m not just leaving her, I’m moving on—to Harlow. I’ve never really felt the pangs of rejection too hard, because I didn’t let people get that close, but the forced smile Rochelle is wearing right now only cements that I’m a total a*shole and don’t deserve either one of these women.
But I’m a selfish a*shole, and I want Harlow. I want her forever.
And right now, I want her to get off that damn stage and to take her home with me.
I round the corner back into the bar and see her talking with a few of the other girls, surrounded by roughneck, horny dudes.
I sneak up behind her, wrap my arms around her waist, and pull her into my chest. I bury my face in her sweet-smelling hair and kiss her neck, not worried about anyone seeing us together anymore. I taste the sweat on her skin and can’t help but be turned on.
“Hey, stranger. Was wondering if you took off without me,” she says, turning to face me, her expression relieved. I keep my hands locked on her hips and watch a couple of the guys scowl before turning their attention to some of the other dancers.
“Never leaving without you,” I say.
“Good. So, we’re okay?” she says. She smiles at me and for the first time in a long time, I feel like actually am okay.
“We’re amazing.”
“And Rochelle?”
I take her hand and squeeze it in mine. “Rochelle and I understand each other.”
“So no rings?”
I cock my head to the side. “No, baby, no rings ever for her and I. And as for you and me...well, I can hope for someday.”
Harlow stands on her tiptoes and presses her mouth to mine.
“I love you,” she says on my lips.
“Harlow Mills, I never stopped loving you.”
I pull back just enough to see a smile creep across her face, and also to see Rochelle slipping out the front door to a waiting cab. I momentarily contemplate going after her, offering to drive her home, but it may just start shit with her all over again. Besides that, some tool in a suit is eyeing Harlow from across the room. I can feel his stare boring into her.
“Come on, let’s go to my office,” I say, pulling her behind me. “Do you have another performance?”
“Nope, I’m finished for the night.”
I close the door behind us, and lead her over to my desk. I sit down on top of it and pull her in between my legs, running my hands up and down her thighs, wondering what kind of panties she’s got under that tiny skirt.
“You want to head out, then?” I pull her earlobe into my mouth and nip at it with my teeth, hoping to entice her to leave with me. To get away from this group of a*sholes.
“ I do. But not yet,” she says.
“You’re killing me, Harlow.”
“I know.” She reaches up under my t-shirt and runs her palm over my chest, fingers splayed, tracing the contours and driving me f*cking crazy. “I just have this rush from performing. I want to stay out a little longer. This night feels amazing! Please,” she coos, while she’s unzipping my pants.
“F*ck me, Harlow. You know I’m going to give you whatever you want, kitten. You want to stay, we’ll stay. I just don’t like the way all those a*sholes are looking at you.”
“Who cares,” she says. She gives my jeans a tug till they are at my knees. “They all know I’m here with you now.”
I like the sound of that.
“I know, but some of those jerks might not respect that.”
“They will. And if they don’t, I can take care of myself, you know. I did it for the last three years just fine.” Her voice wavers, though, and I feel like the moment is lost between us.
“I’m sorry I haven’t been there with you.”
“You’re here now,” she says. She unbuttons her silky blouse. I run my hands up her stomach, across her chest, then push the shirt off of her shoulders and unhook her black, lace bra.
“That I am,” I moan. I pull at the zipper on the back of her skirt and let the scrap of material fall, finally giving me a peek of what’s underneath. The black lace panties hug her ass in a way that should be illegal. “Let me see these, spin around.” I guide her, with my hands on her hips, in a circle. There’s a keyhole-shaped cutout on the back of them, tied together with a light pink bow. “These...” I swallow. “These are incredibly sexy. You are incredibly sexy.”
Harlow turns back to me, hooks her fingers in the sides and slides them down the length of her legs, then steps out of them. The woman of my f*cking dreams is standing in front of me in nothing but fishnet knee-highs and high heels. I am not worthy, I know this for sure. I hop up off of the desk and try to pull her into me, but instead, she reaches inside my boxers and grips my dick, which is already throbbing at attention.
“So, I was thinking,” she says, staring up at me as she strokes me. “You’re going to have to back off when it comes to my work. This wasn’t the gig I thought it was going to be tonight, but it’s still a job. I need to get all of the experience I can now so that when I move to New York, I’ll have an entire resume, not just a pipe dream.”
“New York?” I grunt. I’m trying to pay attention, but god, this feels good.
“Yes. That’s my dream, you know that.”
“Mmhmm.”
“I want to make the move soon. And when I do, I hope you’ll come with me. But if you can’t right away, I don’t want you starting stuff with me because you think I’m out sleazing it up. This is just a job, Gunner. A job I love. You just have to trust me.”
“I trust you,” I say. I do. But even if I didn’t, I’d tell the woman anything she wanted to hear right now just to make sure she didn’t stop touching me.
“Promise?” she asks.
“Promise, baby. I promise to always do whatever makes you happy.” God, I mean it.
“Good,” Harlow says. She smiles, then drops to her knees. She takes my dick into her perfect mouth and sucks on me hungrily.
“Oh, Jesus, Harlow, you’re a goddess.”
She takes me deeper into her mouth, while one hand strokes me softly. I knot my fingers into her hair and watch as she bobs back and forth. She lets out a small noise that sounds like a purr and the vibration on my dick drives me crazy.
“I am not going to last long, baby,” I say. I feel like a fifteen-year-old, but the sight of her like this—it’s impossible.
Harlow looks up with those gorgeous blues and locks eyes with me as I pump in and out of her mouth. Her tits bounce and I can see the perfect curve of her ass sticking out. I love that a skimpy pair of fishnets on those long dancer’s legs and a sky-high pair of heels are all that’s covering her body.
“That is the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen in my life.”
She keeps her eyes and her mouth on me as she cups my balls and strokes me, then takes her free hand and reaches down to slowly rub her *.
“You’re going to be the death of me, kitten,” I pant.
Harlow moans as she simultaneously pleasures both of us. I can’t take it anymore.
“I need you,” I say.
I scoop her up and slam her back onto my desk.
“F*ck me,” she murmurs.
“Baby, we may like it rough, but what you and I do is never a f*ck. I love you too much for that.” I thrust into her, and know that this is exactly where I belong.