Hustler (34 page)

“Gavin…” she trails off softly, trying to calm down the inner rage burning through me.

I stare down at her and try to convey that everything is going to be alright just as Harley throws his head back and laughs, a maniacal cackle that echoes through the restaurant, causing all diners to look our way in discomfort.

“Oh Christ, I never thought I’d see the day.” The girl standing next to him who, just moments ago, looked almost terrified, joins in on his laughter, clearly unsure of what else to do. Together, they laugh until Harley straightens and shakes his head. “The apple doesn’t fall very far from the tree, now does it?”

Just like that, every vein in my body is put into overdrive as my blood pumps rapidly, igniting a flame from the past just from the mere insinuation of my father.

Stepping up to Harley, Graham now next to me, Beef Wellington cast to the side, I make myself very clear. “If you ever want to play another game in this town, I suggest you don’t ever bring up my fucking father again.”

I can practically feel Penelope’s concerned confusion blazing behind me. She’s no doubt wondering what the hell is going on. My father is someone I don’t talk about, ever. Scott and Graham know of his past not because I’ve mentioned it to them, but because they’ve grown up on the Strip, they know the stories, they know the history. From the way I’ve cut them off from asking questions, they know my father is an off limits topic, one I don’t plan on discussing with anyone… ever.

And fuck him. The apple falls so fucking far from the tree, people probably think it’s from another goddamned orchard. I won’t ever fall in my father’s footsteps. I’m not stupid enough to make the same mistakes he did.

“Don’t agree with me?” Harley shoots back. “Then prove it. I have the television crew ready, they just need you to sign on. Meet me in the suite, bring your A-game and prove that you’re nothing like your old man.” With a quick scan, he leers Penelope one last time before taking off and calling over his shoulder, “At least you have better taste than him.”

“Motherfucker,” I seethe as I start to go after him but am stopped by two sets of strong hands.

“Let him go,” Scott says close to my ear. “He’s not worth your time.”

“I’ll have him removed from the premises,” Graham states, pulling out his phone and stepping to the side to make a quick call to security.

Adjusting my suit jacket, I take a second to calm the burn running through me before I take a seat.

From my vantage point, Penelope is reading like a worried little fawn, her eyes wide with concern, her petite hand waiting to grasp mine and offer comfort.

Once I take a seat, I unbutton my jacket and take hold of my fork. Lifting my head to the table, I put on a passive smile and say, “Sorry about that. Please, eat up.”

I stick my fork in my chicken and try not to grind my teeth as I replay Harley’s words over and over in my head. He has no clue what he’s talking about. Yeah, Penelope might be by my side but she’s nothing like the relationship my father had with his woman. Right? The bitch was a goddamned chippie for Christ’s sake!

Fuck
. I need to clear my head. The urge to rub my palms over my eyes to try and erase the past five minutes is daunting, but I manage to refrain. Performing such a move would be showing my anger, my uneasiness and I never show a fucking tell, and I’m not about to start now.

“Are you okay?” Penelope leans over, her hand pressing against my leg in concern.

Giving her a bright smile, I pinch her chin with my index finger and thumb and say, “Of course, baby. Now enjoy your dinner.”

She studies me, trying to look past the dark depths of my eyes for any kind of answer besides the one I gave her, but I show her nothing, I’m a mask of perfect calm. However, still worried, she gnaws on the corner of her lip before turning back to her dinner. I do my best to relax as I try to think of anything other than the battle raging inside of me.

I’m nothing like my father… fucking
nothing
like him at all.

***

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Penelope asks as I shut the door to her bedroom. “You haven’t spoken more than a few words since that guy left.”

“I’m fine,” I say, removing my jacket and unbuttoning my dress shirt, exposing my bare chest to her.

She removes her fake pearl earrings, ones that I know she probably bought for twenty dollars at some consignment place. I can tell they’re not real by how cheap they look next to her silky brown hair. A part of me thinks I should get her some real ones, ones that would reflect the beauty of her face, but then I think about the conversation with Harley. It’s nagging at me, taking over every aspect of my mind to the point where I’m second guessing everything I’ve done with Penelope up to this very moment.

“Okay,” she answers, sounding skeptical, obviously not buying what’s coming out of my mouth. Turning her back to me, she asks, “Can you unzip my dress for me?”

Now that’s something I don’t have a problem doing. Knowing she’s feeling a little insecure, I run my hands up her bare arms to her shoulders, sending a shiver up her spine. With my left hand caressing the back of her neck, I run my thumb along the smooth skin. I pull on the zipper of her dress with my right hand, slowly exposing her matching black lingerie.

“Thank you,” she says but before she can pull away I stop her, letting my hands do the rest of the work, sliding the dress off her shoulders, past her hips until it pools at the floor.

The night sounds quiet from so high up, only the slight traffic noise filtering through the window, filling the space of her modest room. Page is tucked in on the other side of the small suite, giving us some much needed time alone.

Penelope stands still, her back to me, waiting for my next move. Needing to forget about tonight, to get lost in her sweet scent, I make quick work of her bra, undoing it and tossing it to the side. With her back still facing me, I slowly loop my hand around her front and stroke up her stomach to her breast, gripping one tightly, rolling her nipple between my fingers until she moans. That’s all the indication I need that she’s ready.

“Do you want me to fuck you, Penelope?” I ask her, leaning toward her ear, brushing my chest against her back.

“Yes, fuck me Gavin.”

“Take your thong off and bend over on the bed, head to the mattress, ass in the air. I’m not going to be light or sweet. I’m going to be hard and unforgiving. Speak up now if you have a problem with that.”

She doesn’t answer me, she simply slips off her thong and gets into position, showing me her willingness to help me forget, to help me get past the torment ringing in my ears.

I take my time to undress, loving the way her tight cunt glistens up at me, telling me how ready she is. She’s always ready for me, always willing to be fucked by me. It’s a beautiful thing, something I’m grateful for, despite the turmoil clogging my brain.

Walking up behind her, my cock sheathed with a condom, I run the tip along her slit, loving how wet she is. Without warning, I pull back my hand and slap her ass, hard. Her body flinches as a low moan comes from her mouth and her pussy clenches just the tip of my cock that’s resting at her entrance. Loving the feeling, I do it again. This time, spurring her to call out my name in pleasure.

I rub the red mark on her ass, the mark that claims her as mine, and bring my hand down in the exact same spot again.

“Oh God,” she cries out.

“Is your pussy throbbing, Penelope? Is it greedy right now, begging for my dick?”

“Yes,” she answers breathlessly.

Another slap on her ass rings out through the room, and this time I can hear the torture in her voice, the strangled passion trying to escape past her mouth that’s currently pressed into the mattress.

“Please…” she trails off. “Fuck me, Gavin.”

My dick throbs in my hand from the way my tip is being sucked into her pussy, from the sounds of pleasure coming from her sweet, fuckable mouth, and from the arousal starting to run down her leg. I can’t hold back any longer, with one long push, I plunge deep inside her, causing her to throw her head back just enough that I grip her hair and wrap it around my fist a few times. Gripping her ass in one hand, her hair in the other, I start to thrust, not giving either of us a second to breathe. I’m rough, I’m sharp with my movements, I’m relentless, not letting up until she’s screaming my name at the top of her lungs, her pussy clenching around my cock, sending me into a fit of pleasure, sucking me until there’s nothing left inside of me.

Spent, I collapse on top of her, my feet feeling numb, my dick still throbbing with completion inside of her, our sweaty bodies tangled together.

“Fucking hell,” I mutter. Never in my life can I recall having come so hard.

I release her hair and massage her scalp, hoping I didn’t hurt her too much during my wild abandon. With her bent over like that on the mattress, ass in the air, pussy beckoning me, there was no way I would have been able to stop, to control myself.

I buried myself deep inside her, silently begging her to help me erase the demons that are plaguing me, that are making me think foolish, idiotic things, like questioning my entire relationship with Penelope.

Cleaning up, I toss the condom out and quickly get back into bed with a very naked and satisfied Penelope. She slides close to me and rests her head on my shoulder, her fingers dancing across my chest.

“Sorry if I hurt you,” I say quietly, our hearts winding down from the exertion I just put us through.

“It felt good,” she answers and then shyly tucks herself closer to me. “I can’t believe I like to be spanked.”

“It’s fucking hot as hell. Watching how you get wet every time I slap your ass is a huge turn on.”

“Good.” I can feel her smile against my chest. She lies there quietly with me for a few more minutes before finally asking, “What happened with your dad?”

I knew it was coming. I’m actually surprised it took her this long to ask me. I could see the questioning look in her eyes the rest of dinner, wondering what the hell just transpired between that dick face, Harley and me. What she didn’t know was that I didn’t want to talk about it. My father is in the past, he made his mistakes, no use harping on them.

“Nothing,” I answer flatly, letting her know the conversation is going nowhere.

But she doesn’t receive the message. “Clearly it’s not nothing if you’re upset over it.”

“I’m not upset,” I grit out. “So fucking drop it, Penelope.”

My tone is rude, disheartening, not a way I would ever want to talk to her, but she’s pushing my limits and she needs to know that if she wants to share a bed with me, my dad is something we don’t discuss.

“Sorry,” she says meekly, her small voice enveloping me in an instant wave of guilt.

Shit. My stomach starts to gnaw at itself, twisting and turning, sending my nerves into a frenzy. This is not the kind of guy I am, I don’t let little things like this bother me. So why the fuck am I letting not just Harley, but Penelope as well, get under my skin? And why the fuck do I feel guilty? I didn’t even know I possessed that type of emotion.

And just like that I’m starting to feel claustrophobic. Penelope’s hair rubbing against my neck almost feels like it’s choking me. My body feels itchy, my stomach bottoms out and I have the instant urge to run, I need to get out of here.

Shooting up in the bed, I cause Penelope to jolt, a shocked look on her face as I slide from beneath the covers and start dressing myself.

Propping up on her elbow, her breasts swaying with her movements, she asks, “What are you doing?”

“Leaving, what does it look like?”

“Why?”

Lying through my teeth, I say, “I have some early morning shit I have to do.”

It’s not the most convincing lie I’ve ever told, that’s evident in the way Penelope gathers a sheet around her naked body and walks up to me.

“Gavin, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. Please just stay.”

“I’m not upset,” I insist in frustration. “I just have shit to do. Fuck, where is my other shoe?” I call out, looking around the room in a panic, needing to get the hell out of here before the anxiety boiling inside of me pours over in front of Penelope.

“Here,” she bends down to pick it up and hands it to me.

Shoe in hand, shirt unbuttoned, and clothes askew, I walk out of her bedroom to her front door in record time.

“Gavin,” she chases after me, catching me right before I exit. “Please, just tell me everything is okay. I’m sorry. Please don’t be mad at me.”

I drop my head and take a deep breath. This isn’t her fault; I need to at least give her
something
to calm her nerves. Turning in place, I pull her into a hug and press my lips against her temple. Quietly, I say, “I’m not mad at you, baby. Have a good night. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Pulling away, I exit her apartment and frantically press the up button to the elevator so I can fall apart in the privacy of my own home.

**NELL**

It’s been a week since Gavin’s run in with that Harley guy and with each passing day I can feel him pulling further and further away from me. And the most upsetting thing about it is I have no clue how to stop it.

With rehearsals every day and my first live performance happening in a week, on top of my constant worry about Gavin, my days have been insane, driving me to the brink of exhaustion by the time the sun goes down. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to help, especially when he refuses to tell me what’s wrong in the first place.

“Why don’t you just talk to him?” Page says from her place in the armchair. We’re still in the lush suite at Paragon, taking full advantage of the top of the line cable package the room offers. I’m sprawled out on the couch, my eyes trained to Chip and Joanna as she tells him to remove yet another wall. I’m so physically and emotionally spent from this week that I’ve yet to change out of my sweaty rehearsal clothes. I should be thrilled, freaking
ecstatic
with the way my life has turned on a dime. Unfortunately, the deep, knowing pain in my gut telling me something bad is coming has cast a shadow over any joy I might have felt.