I roll up my sleeves and ball my hands up into fists. My tattooed forearms bulge, and I slide the cue between my calloused fingers.

“Corner pocket,” I say in a low whisper.

“Which corner?” Dash asks, grinning.

I glare at him.

“Come on, Hunt,” he says. “Three hundred bucks isn’t chump change for me--not everyone sold off a company and retired at thirty-two--I’m going to make sure you call the pocket properly.”

“Left corner,” I say, hitting the cue ball.

It hits the striped 11--Dash’s last ball--just right, and the 11 goes deep. It rolls into the 8-ball, and pushes the 8 right into the pocket.

The cue ball bounces harmlessly away, but I hold my breath as the 11 wobbles just on the edge of the pocket. It stops wobbling, just fractions of an inch from falling in.

“Fuck!” Dash shouts. “Three hundred bucks, shit!”

“You don’t have to--” I start, but Dash cuts me off.

“We shook on it, Hunt, I’m good for it.”

I nod. Dash has got plenty of income anyway; it’s not my fault he squanders it.

“Want to get out of here?” Dash asks. “It’s a bit of a sausage party in here…”

“Where you want to go?”

“It’s your last night as a bachelor, we could hit up the bars--”

I laugh. “The marriage is on paper, Dash. Nadine isn’t putting my dick in a jar.”

“You’ll have to at least be more discreet though, won’t you?” Dash asks.

I shrug. That’s probably true. I’m marrying Nadine to solidify her hold on Sencorp, so it wouldn’t do if people see me pulling random women at a dive bar.

I look around the pool hall. It’s mostly older guys here, and I realize I wouldn’t mind getting my dick wet tonight. Even if the marriage is just on paper, I’ll still have to sell it as real. That will require at least some sacrifices.

“Yeah,” I say, racking the cue. “Let’s hit the bars.”

We grab our scarves and jackets and head out into the winter night.

“I’m feeling like a dive bar,” Dash says. “No fancy shit tonight.”

I nod. I was thinking the same thing. Being married to the co-CEO of Sencorp will probably mean going to a lot of stuffy, upscale places. I might as well slum it while I still can.

My phone vibrates. I pull it out of my jacket.

“The ball and chain?” Dash asks.

I consider ignoring it, but we have to walk for a few minutes anyway, so I pick up.

“Nadine?” I say. “What is it? Having second thoughts?”

“No,” she says in a flat voice. “I was actually calling to ask you the same thing. Everything is drafted up and ready to go. You can stop by my place tomorrow and make it official.”

“You got the date for the ceremony locked down?” I ask.

“Worry about that later. Are you sure you’re willing to do this, Hunt?”

In the business world, people call me King Midas. Every company I touch turns to gold. Nadine was the one who took a chance on me way back when I didn’t have two pennies to rub together. I paid her loan back--and then some--but I still feel like I owe her.

“I saw Sencorp’s closing price today,” I say. “You need this.”

There’s a long pause. “We could just be seen dating.”

“Marriage is cleaner, and with Sencorp’s charter, it’s the only way I can be co-CEO with you,” I say. “Besides, a married couple who doesn’t touch each other is far more plausible than if we’re dating.”

She laughs. “God, Hunt, I’m so fucking stressed out right now. Did I tell you my daughter is starting next week?”

“Starting?”

“An internship, at Sencorp.”

“Isn’t she like, twelve?”

“She’s eighteen, Hunt.”

Huh? Celia, Nadine’s daughter, has always lived with her dad. Nadine would talk about her, but I got the impression the two of them weren’t on great terms.

“I’m sure the internship will be fine,” I say.

I’m ready to hang up now. I don’t really give a shit about Nadine’s personal or family life. I’m friends with her, but I’ve just never much cared for other people's problems.

“I’m not worried about the internship,” Nadine says. “I’m worried about the mother-daughter stuff. She was supposed to be home an hour ago…”

I start to tune her out. I’m marrying her to help out Sencorp, not to hear her whine about her daughter.

“Yeah, yeah,” I say, not really listening to her. “I’m sure it’s fine. Hey, I gotta’ go.”

“Oh,” she says. “Sorry, yeah, later.”

“Bye.”

Dash laughs. “Damn, man, you’re crazy for doing this.”

Maybe I am, but it’s a matter of honor for me. I have my golden fucking touch, and if it wasn’t for Nadine, I’d still be scrubbing dishes or running black market deals. How can I watch her inherit a sinking ship and not fucking do something about it? I might not give a shit about her daughter or her love life, but I won’t let her career go down the shitter. Nadine’s career is the one thing she really cares about.

It has been a few years since I used my golden touch, and the last two years have been a fucking blur of tight dresses and wet panties. Not that I’d ever really get tired of fucking a new woman every night while enjoying my fortune, but saving a company from drowning gives me a certain adrenaline rush that I can’t get anywhere else. Once I turn a company around and it starts raking in the cash, I get bored. It’s why I sold my first company, and why I’m known for just “touching” a company and walking off.

I laugh. I can talk about honor all I want--about wanting to do this for Nadine--but that’s probably all it boils down to for me, if I’m being honest with myself. I want that rush. I’ve never tried to save a company that is so close to ruin as hers. I need to make every crazy gambit I can if it’s going to work. Marrying her is just the start.

Dash and I turn the corner and see a long line of people huddling up outside a bar. Waiting to get in.

I walk us right up to the front and nod to the bouncer, A.J. He recognizes me and lets us in straight away. There’s no bottle service at a shithole like this, but I tip very generously, and that gets us right in.

“Shit,” Dash says, looking around. “They just keep getting younger, huh? Or I guess we just keep getting older.”

“Thirty-six ain’t old,” I say, grinning.

“Tell that to her,” Dash says, pointing over my shoulder.

I turn around, and though the place is packed tight, she catches my eye immediately. She’s wearing a bright--and tight—blue dress. Her breasts are spilling out of the low-cut neckline, and the dress hugs her perfect ass and impossibly tiny waist just right. Her full red lips give a stunning contrast to that deep blue, and her long, silky hair spills down her shoulders. When the light hits her dark hair, it shimmers like a starry night.

As I stare, she looks over and locks eyes with me. Her eyes are bright blue—just like her dress—and they widen when she looks at me. She quickly regains her composure, trying to play it cool, but I saw the way she looked at me. My pants tighten as my cock instantly gets hard.

Still looking at me, she licks her lips, then presses them together. She looks up at me through her long lashes, and I feel the most primal of urges surging through every inch of my body--but mostly through the nine rock-hard inches in my pants.

“Fuck…” I hear myself saying, but my voice catches in my throat.

Dash cackles and elbows me. “How old do you think she is?”

Fuck. She’s holding a drink, but there’s no way she’s twenty-one. Shit, I doubt she’s even eighteen.

I summon every last ounce of my willpower to tear my gaze away from her. I look down at my shoes, and even though she’s out of my sight, the image of her is fucking burned into my mind. Every last curve of her is still there, and the urge to look up again is maddening.

I turn my body away. Dash laughs harder.

“Come on, man,” he says. “You know you want--”

“Fuck off,” I grunt. My voice is gravel.

I’m too old for this shit. Even if she is legal, what the fuck am I going to do with someone that young?

My mind races with dozens of ideas of exactly what I would do to her, and how much she would fucking like it, and how much she’d beg for more.

“Let’s get out of here,” I say.

“Come on, Hunt,” Dash says. “I’ll go talk to her for you. I saw the way you looked at her.”

I start to walk toward the door, but my dick is a steel rod. It begs me to stay, to give it what it needs.

I grit my teeth until my jaw aches.

“As long as she’s eighteen,” Dash says.

“And if she lies?” I ask.

“Check her I.D.”

I laugh. “How do you think she got in here?”

“Probably that tight fucking dress and those perky-ass tits got her in--”

“Fake I.D., Dash.”

“She’ll have her real one on her, so ask to see both.”

Nah. It’s wrong. I can feel how wrong it is even as my cock gets impossibly harder and my balls ache for her. The last thing I need while I try to save Nadine’s company is to be seen with someone who might still be in high school.

“I’m gonna’ pay the tab and get out of here,” I say.

Dash grabs my arm. “Come on, man, at least wingman for me before you head out.”

I find myself nodding. I don’t really want to help Dash, but I convince myself that he’s the reason I stay. It’s a stupid fucking decision, but I’m not exactly thinking with my brain at this point.

Dash does investigative work for me sometimes, and having him owe me a favor could be valuable once I dig in at Sencorp.

We order some whiskeys and I down mine without really tasting it. I get an immediate head rush and spike of adrenaline streaking through my veins, and then I see a wave of brilliant blue move into the corner of my vision. Without even thinking, I look over.

My eyes rest on her perfect body, and I feel my hand trembling as I put down my empty glass. Some asshole kid is talking to her--a piece of shit in a flannel shirt and a fitted cap who looks too young to even grow a beard.

I see him reach up and grab her bare arm. She tries to move away from him, but his grip tightens.

My blood boils, and I ball my hands up into fists. My feet itch to move, but I resist the urge by squeezing the bar with a death grip.

“Hunt?” Dash’s voice barely cuts through my rage.

The asshole takes a step toward her, still squeezing her arm, and I see her face scrunch up in fear. She looks around for help, but no one is near her. Then her eyes lock onto mine. They widen in desperation, and those big, beautiful lips mouth two words: “Help me.”

Before I even realize it, I’m halfway there, shoving through everyone standing in the way.

I’m already reaching up toward the piece of shit, and I make no effort to stop myself now.

Just as his hand grabs for her waist, I grab his shoulder.

“Step off,” I say.

He turns to look at me. His cheeks are red and his eyes are swimming in a drunken haze. “Fuck off, old man.”

He slaps my hand off his shoulder, and he pulls the girl into him, squeezing her ass.

I head-butt him, and my skull smashes against his face. He falls backward, while letting go of the girl, and as soon as he’s away from her, I bring my fist up and gut-punch him.

He curls up on himself and collapses to his knees. I kick him in the chest with the tip of my shoe, and that knocks him down for good.

Before I realize what’s happening, I feel warm flesh pressing against my body. I look down and the girl is wrapping her arms tightly around me and squeezing me.

My first instinct is to peel her off, but her perfect tits are pressing right into my abs, and her hands are so damn small and delicate on my back. I find myself putting a hand onto the bare skin at the small of her back and holding her against me protectively.

“Thank you,” she says. “And I’m sorry.”

I loosen my grip on her, and she looks up at me. Those beautiful fucking big blue eyes are just inches from my face now, and her feminine scent is completely overpowering me. I want to pull her back into me and rip that tight dress right off her body, but instead, I just stare into those big eyes and that perfect face.

“Why are you sorry?” I ask. “You didn’t do anything.”

The asshole is still keeled over, and his friends are trying to help him up. None of them dare to even look at me.

“I asked you for help,” she says, “and…”

The bouncer is approaching, and she lets go of me as he nears us.

She says nervously as he approaches, “I’m sorry, I was--”

“Hunt,” A.J. says. “Was this guy causing trouble?”

“Yeah,” I say.

“Got it,” A.J. says, and he grabs the guy by the arm and pulls him toward the door.

The girl watches with confusion. “Why did--”

“Don’t worry about it,” I say. “Are you okay?”

She licks her lips, as she looks me up and down. “I am now, sir.”

I laugh. “Shit, don’t call me that.”

“What do I call you?”

“My name. Hunt.”

I look down at her hand and see the faint outline of an “X,” written in black Sharpie and hastily washed off.

I point to her. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-one,” she says without hesitation.

I gently take her wrist and hand, and I trace my finger along the “X” that she washed off.

Her lips part as I touch her hand, and she looks up at me with a look I know all too well. What the fuck am I doing?

“Okay,” she says. “I’m only twenty, but--”

“Hold old are you really?” I say. “Don’t lie to me again.”

“I’m eighteen,” she says.

I give her a warning look.

“Really,” she says. “How did I get in the club and get the ‘X’ on my hand if I’m not eighteen?”

“Fake I.D.?” I ask.

She rolls her eyes. “Why would I go to the trouble of getting a fake I.D. that didn’t even make me twenty-one?”

I can’t argue with that logic. “What’s your name?”

“Everyone calls me Elise,” she says. “Except my Mom.”

“What does your Mom call you?”

“Who cares?” she says, smiling.

God, that smile. I realize that I can’t turn back now. Not after she’s smiled at me like that. And she is legal. Even if just barely.

“So…” she says, “are you going to buy me a drink?”

She licks her teeth and laughs.

“What do you want?” I ask. “A coke? Maybe an orange juice? A juice box?”

“A real drink!” she says, giggling. “I erased the ‘X,’ and I don’t think the bartender really cares anyway…”

“One drink,” I say.

“Cheap ass.”

“It’s not about the money,” I say. “It’s…”

It’s the fact that I want to take her home and fuck her brains out. And it’s bad enough that she’s only eighteen. I don’t want her to be drunk, too.

“It’s what?” she asks.

I look down at her breasts, and then up at her eyes. I lean in close to her so she can really smell me. She breathes heavily, but doesn’t pull even an inch away. She leans in a bit closer, but I put a hand on her shoulder to stop her.

“What do you think is going to happen?” I ask.

“What do you mean…” she says. Her cheeks burn red, and her voice is painfully shy. She knows exactly what I am implying.

“You know,” I say.

“I...I think you’re going to buy me a White Russian--”

I laugh. “A White Russian? You think that’s going to make you seem sophisticated?”

She crosses her arms and pouts at me. She tosses her hair over her shoulder and glares at me. “Don’t make fun of me, Hunter.”

“Hunt,” I say.

“And after we have a drink together, Elise, what do you think will happen next?”

“Well,” she says, face burning red once again, “I think we both know, don’t we?”

“I want to hear you say it.”

She bites her lip, and it takes all my willpower not to grab her and crush my lips against hers.

“Say it,” I say.

I catch a glimpse of Dash sitting at the bar. When he sees me look over at him, he raises his glass to me and grins. Asshole.

“I want you to take me to your place, Hunter.”

“And then?” I ask.

“We can...have coffee.”

“Is that a euphemism for something?”

“Go get me my drink!” she snaps. “Stop teasing me.”

I laugh and walk off toward the bar. I order her a drink, and Dash grabs my arm.

“You’ve got this, man. Even though you bailed on me as wingman, I’ll let it slide.”

I roll my eyes. “This is fucking stupid, I shouldn’t--”

Dash shakes his head. “Do what your cock tells you, Hunt. That’s always been my philosophy, and it’s never failed me.”

“What about that time you got the shit kicked out of you by that lady’s husband?”

“It was totally worth it,” Dash says, grinning. “Pussy is always worth it, and the one you’re about to plow into is--”

I shove him. “Watch it, man.”

He cackles. “Shit! She’s already got you wrapped around her finger, huh? Never knew you liked ‘em so young--”

“Two White Russians,” the bartender says, sliding the drinks over.

“Get fucked, Dash,” I say, grinning.

Dash takes a big swig of whisky. “That’s the plan.”

I bring Elise her drink. “You had a White Russian before?”

“Of course,” she says, her voice way too defensive for it to be true.

She takes a small sip, and her eyes widen. “It’s good.”

I nod. “They make good drinks here.”

“What drink should we try next?” she asks me.

An evil grin fills my face, and I say in a low whisper. “Coffee. At my place.”

She chokes on her drink a bit, and she pulls her long hair back behind her ears as she blushes.

“What do you do, Hunt?” she asks, sipping at her drink.

I’ll do whatever you want me to. “It’s boring, and do you really care?”

“You must be pretty good at whatever you do,” she says, looking me up and down.

“Business,” I say. “And yes, I’m very good at it. What about you?”

“I, uh, I’m a student still.”

Please don’t say high school.

“Where?” I ask.

“I just started at NYU,” she says.

I let out a sigh of relief.

She laughs. “Afraid I was still in high school?”

I grin. “Nah, I was just worried you went to Columbia or something. I’m not a fan of that place.”

She laughs. She knows I’m full of shit, but she doesn’t call me on it.

“I’m majoring in business,” she says. “My mom basically forced me to, but I do like it. You probably could give me some good advice and tips, huh?”

I’ve got one tip I can give her, and it’s hard and ready. “Yeah,” I say, “I’m sure I could, but that’s not really what I’m planning for tonight.”

“You don’t want to discuss it over coffee?” she asks, smiling.

“I don’t usually talk much when I’m doing coffee with a woman.”

“How do you like your coffee?” she asks.

I lean in closer to her, and I gently move her hair over her shoulder and run my hand through her dark strands. “Black…”

She bites her lip. “I like mine with extra cream.”

I burst out laughing, and she crosses her arms and pouts at me.

“You’re so fucking--” I start, but she looks so legitimately angry that I stop in mid-sentence.

“You’re so fucking hot,” I say. “You’re…”

I squeeze her arm, and her lips part. She grabs hold of my bicep, and I can feel her trembling through her tight grip.

I lean closer toward her, and she squeezes my arm even harder. She’s scared, but her eyes are telling me “yes.”

I lean in even closer, never breaking eye contact with her. Her lips part even wider, and finally her eyes close. I go in.

Our lips press together, and her taste fills me. I want more, and I slide my tongue right into her mouth without wasting any time.

She freezes in hesitation for a few moments, but soon I feel her tongue warm against mine, and she slides it along my lips. I inhale deep through my nose as I drink up her wet tongue and full lips. I can’t get enough of her taste and her smell.

My hands grip her tiny waist, and her full breasts press into my body as we kiss. I slide a hand along her arm until it’s resting on the bare skin of her back. Her skin is smooth and delicate, and it’s soft as silk. But not as soft as her lips.

I bite her lips gently, and I feel a stifled moan rumble across her throat. Her hand runs up and down my strong, tattooed arm, while she digs her nails into my muscular back with her other.

We kiss and grab each other for a long time. The noise and bustle of the bar fades away to nothing. There is only us.

Finally we pull away from one another, and there’s an electric current running through my entire body. It feels like her skin was laced with a powerful opiate, though I doubt heroin even feels this good.

“Coffee,” I say.

She grabs her phone.

I narrow my eyes.

“I’m getting an Uber,” she says. “What’s your address?”

“I got it,” I say.

I’ve had one too many drinks to drive us home. I grab my phone.

Dash comes up to us with a girl on his arm. She’s older than Elise, but barely.

“So you guys are heading out?” he asks, grinning. “I’m Dash.”

Elise smiles and holds out a hand. “Elise.”

They shake hands, and Dash points to the girl on his arm, “This is...uh…”

“Ivanna,” she says, more to Dash than to Elise and me. She leans toward us and whispers, “I doubt he will remember my name, but I don’t care.”

Elise laughs nervously. I’m sure as fuck going to remember her name, I realize. I haven’t even fucked her once--just kissed her--and already she’s got some kind of hold on me.

“Have fun,” Dash says, winking and pulling Ivanna away toward the bar.

The car is outside a few minutes later. Elise and I slide into the back seat, and now that she’s outside of the bustle and soft lighting of the bar, she looks even more innocent than before. I can see the nervousness painted on her face, even as she grips tight to my arm in the backseat of the car.

I’m tempted to get started on her right now, but the Uber driver is a woman about my age, and she’s already side-eyed the hell out of me when we got in.

The driver takes us to my place, through a mostly silent cab ride. There’s only the tension between Elise and me, barely contained within the small car.

The car pulls up to my place and stops.

“You live here?” Elise asks, looking up at my building overlooking Central Park.

“Yeah,” I say. “Come on.”

I take her inside by the hand, get into the elevator, and ride up to my penthouse.

“Wow…” she utters. “You must be really good at whatever it is you do.”

“I’m good at business,” I say, “but I’m best at making coffee.”

She laughs nervously, and I pull her into my apartment.

She looks around, wide-eyed.

“Do you actually want a cup of coffee first,” I ask, “or--”

She jumps up onto me and wraps her legs around me. I grab hold of her and kiss her deeply, as I hold her against my body. I walk toward the bedroom as we kiss.

No coffee. Just fucking.

My cock has been rock-hard for the past hour. I keep imagining Elise’s full lips wrapped tightly around my hard and veiny cock, but as I throw her down onto my bed, I get an eyeful of her black panties, and I realize I want to tongue her clit and drink up her juices more than anything else.

“Hunter,” she says, “I’m--”

“Hunt,” I interrupt. “And what did I tell you about talking during coffee?”

I grab hold of her legs just above the knees, and she lets out a low moan as her eyes roll back in her head. Her legs feel so fucking good, and I slide my hands up slowly along the flesh of her thighs. Soon I’m nearing her panties, and she’s biting her lip in anticipation.

“Get that dress off,” I bark at her.

She looks up at me in surprise.

“Off!” I say. “Now!”

She reaches down and pulls at the dress. She hikes it up and exposes her perfect, flat stomach, and then she pulls it up over her head to reveal her big tits squeezed into a black lacy bra.

“That bra is too small for you,” I say, awe seeping into my voice.

“They’re...still growing,” she says. “I need to go shopping.”

Fucking hell. Still growing. She really is too young for me, but I can’t go back now.

I squeeze her thighs as I gaze at her beautiful, perky tits.

“Take it off,” I order.

She doesn’t hesitate this time. I squeeze her ass as she reaches back and pops off the bra.

It falls to the bed, and her amazing tits pop free. They seem to defy gravity, and I can’t help but let go of her ass and bury my face between them.

She giggles at first, but as soon as I get my hands on her flesh mounds, and when my fingers graze her nipples, she stops laughing. She leans back and moans loudly as I run a thumb over one nipple, and my tongue across the other.

“Oh, Hunter…” she moans. “God!”

I flick my tongue across her nipple as it points up, growing impossibly hard beneath my tongue.

“Good girl, Elise,” I say, and then I put the whole nipple into my mouth and suck on it for all I’m worth.

She screams, and I bite down on her. Her hips buck up into the air, and her fingers dig into the back of my scalp through my hair.

I worship her fucking tits, drinking up and licking every last square inch of them. I knead and massage, lick and suck, and when I’m done, they are raw and covered in marks. I’ve claimed them, and they’re mine now.

I start to work my way back down across her stomach, kissing as I go. She writhes as I sink below her bellybutton, and I tease her just above the hem of her panties.

“Please,” she says.

Mmmm. I like to hear her beg, but there’s no need. No force in the world could stop me from drinking up her juices.

I grab her panties with both hands, and with a sudden burst of intensity, I tear them off of her.

“My panties,” she shrieks.

“Now you really need to shop for new clothes,” I say, and I gaze at her perfect fucking pussy. It’s neatly shaved with only a small strip of hair in the center. Her lips are swollen and glistening.

“You’re so fucking wet,” I say. “How long have you been wet for me?”

“Since I first saw you, Hunter,” she says.

“Good girl,” I whisper.

I run a hand down along her trimmed pubic hair, and then I go ever so slowly and gently further down across her bare skin. When my finger grazes her soaking and swollen lips, she lets out a yelp and bucks her hips.

“I’ve barely touched you,” I say, my eyes widening.

“So touch me more.”

I press against her lips and slide my fingers slowly down. I slide one finger into her drenched hole, and then I pull it back out and slide it toward her clit. As soon as I press lightly against her clit, her body tightens. I rub gently, and her hips buck up toward me. She grabs her own breasts and bites her lip.

I can’t take it anymore; I’m hungry for her. I dive between her legs and run my tongue up her pussy. The taste and smell of her sends me into a frenzy, and I slide my tongue up inside her warm channel. Her legs wrap around my head, and I feel her press into me, begging me for more without saying a single word.

I give her what she wants. I drink up her juices and fuck her with my tongue. Then I bring my tongue out and edge up to her clit, and I press my tongue and lips all along her overly sensitive nub. She screams out and moans my name, and I don’t let off for even a moment.

I grab hold of her hips and worship her clit, and when her moans become frenetic and breathless, I realize she’s not going to last long. I have to use all my strength to keep her hips down, as her clit swells even larger, and she comes hard against me.

I never let go of her clit as she comes, digging her nails into my head. Only when she is panting and spent do I dip down and lick up all of her thick juices.

“Don’t,” she whines.

“I guess I like cream in my coffee, too,” I say, sucking up all of her wetness.

“It feels so good…” she says.

No shit it feels good. I’m probably the first man to ever make her come like that. Guys her age probably haven’t even been able to find her clit, and even if they could, they wouldn’t know what to do with it.

My cock is ready to burst out of my pants now. I’ve been wanting her to suck me off with those beautiful lips--to blast my load down her throat--but her pussy is soaking wet now, and it’s begging for me to stuff my thick cock inside her.

I pull off my shirt as I look down at her body. Her white skin looks ghostly pale and perfect against my dark sheets, and her jet black hair is spilling out across the white pillows.

Her eyes widen as I throw my shirt to the ground.

“Jesus,” she says. “For a--” She covers her mouth with her hand.

I laugh. “For an older guy?”

“You’re ripped,” she says. “You’re not that old, Hunter.”

I laugh. “I’m thirty-six. Twice your age.”

She starts to mouth words silently and tap her thumb against her fingers.

“Are you doing math?” I ask.

“I’m doing the formula,” she says. “Hold on.”

She frowns.

I laugh. “What is the formula?”

“I take my age, subtract it by seven, and divide by two.”

“Twenty-two,” I say. I don’t need any time to do such simple math. “Is that the oldest you’re supposed to date?”

“It’s just a stupid formula,” she says, pouting.

I grin. “I can date a 58-year-old.”

She rolls her eyes. “It scales a lot as you get older. In just a few years, I’d be old enough to date you.”

“We don’t have to date,” I say, looking down at her wet pussy.

“Oh?” she asks, raising an eyebrow. “So you just want to have coffee with me, and then never see me again?”

No. I realize it now. One time with her won’t be nearly enough, will it? She’s a drug, and I’m already addicted after only one taste. I need to sink my cock deep inside her and fill her up with my seed, and then I’ll need her again and again.

And then I think of Nadine. How am I going to do what I need to do for Sencorp and image while dating a fucking 18-year-old?

I shake my head and push those thoughts aside. It’s not something I’ll worry about now.

“I want you,” I say. “Right now.”

“But Hunter,” she says, her voice pretending to be worried. “The formula…”

“First lesson in business,” I say, unbuckling my belt, “is to never trust a fucking formula. You don’t run a business by trusting cookie-cutter shit or painting by numbers. You listen to your gut and your instinct.”

I throw my belt to the ground and unbutton my jeans. Elise’s eyes are locked onto my crotch. I have no idea if she’s listening to a word I say. I don’t really even fucking care.

“So,” she says. “If it feels right, I do it?”

“Yeah,” I say. “Exactly.”

Or, I think to myself, you do it if it feels wrong. If it feels wrong and this good, then you also just do it. I keep that piece of advice to myself.

“It felt really right, Hunter,” she says. “What you did to me.”

“Good,” I say. “So we throw out the formula and do what feels right. What feels good.”

She nods, licking her lips. “Yeah.”

Her eyes are locked on the big bulge in my pants. I pull the zipper down and drop my jeans.

My briefs are squeezing my cock, but it’s struggling--and almost succeeding--to burst out.

“Jesus,” she says, wide-eyed.

“Never had one this big?” I ask.

There’s no point in being fucking modest. I know I’m big, I might as well act like it.

She shakes her head as her cheeks blush.

“Take it out,” I say.

She’s on her knees in an instant. She crawls across the bed toward me, her long hair hanging down, partially draped across her shoulders as she moves.

She grabs my underwear by the waist with two fingers, and tugs.

“Stop wasting time,” I bark.

She grips my cock through the underwear, and my eyes roll back in my head. Her hands feel so tiny on my thick rod, and the warmth from her is more than I can bear.

“Off,” I whisper.

She pulls my underwear down, and my cock springs up.

“Whoa,” she says, laughing, her voice and her laugh sounds childish.

God, it’s wrong. And it feels so good.

She squeezes the base of my cock, and eyes it in wonder. It’s probably the first time she’s held a real man’s dick in her hand.

“Get on your back,” I order. “And spread your legs.”

“Don’t you want me to--”

“No,” I say, cutting her off. “I want to fuck you, Elise, right now.”

I shove her back and she lands flat on her back. I grab her feet and push her legs back.

“You’re so big, Hunter,” she says, sounding scared. “Please be…”

“I’ll be gentle,” I say. “At least at first.”

I bite my lip and flash her an evil grin, and then I slap my thick cock onto her wet and swollen outer lips. She lets out a yelp, and her whole body shudders. She looks up at me with raw and untempered lust.

I need to sink my cock into her. I can’t wait any longer.

I guide my head to her opening, and it’s so much tighter than I could have possibly imagined.

“Jesus, Elise…”

Her face burns red, and I press slowly in. She’s gushing wet, but her pussy squeezes me and fights for every fraction of an inch.

I groan as I press m head halfway inside her, and I see her face tight and clenched.

“Relax,” I whisper. “Just relax.”

She bites her lip and nods.

“Focus on your breathing,” I say.

When I see her shoulders fall, and the lines on her forehead smooth, I press further in. She’s still tighter than anyone I’ve ever had, but I slide in now with steady progress.

“Oh!” she shouts. “Wow.”

I laugh, my head is all the way inside her, and my veiny shaft is pressing in, stretching her wider as I go.

“You’re so tight and wet, Elise, I never want to pull out of you.”

“I’m...I’m on birth control, so…”

“So I’m going to come inside you,” I say, feeling a wild exhilaration explode in my chest. “I’m going to pump every last drop up into you as you cum.”

Her eyes widen, and her legs wrap around me. I feel her heels dig into me.

“I think I’ll like that, Hunter.”

I buck my hips and press deep into her. Her tight wetness envelopes my cock, and I have to stop right there and focus on my breathing. I feel like I’m in fucking high school again, like there’s an actual risk that I will cum before I’m ready. But I never cum until the woman does, and I’d never forgive myself if I broke that rule with Elise. I want to make her cum all over my cock more than I’ve ever wanted anyone to--I realize I actually care how she feels. Usually, when I make a woman cum, it’s a big ego trip. I don’t really care how she feels beyond how it makes me feel.

But with Elise? I realize I want her to feel everything I can give her, and it’s not about me this time. Shit...I hope I’m not going soft.

My cock twitches deep inside her, and her pussy clenches against me. Nope, definitely not going soft. I’m still rock-hard.

I slide in the last few inches, until my balls are pressed up against her.

“I can’t believe it fits,” Elise says in wonder.

“Neither can I,” I say. I really can’t believe it, not after how tight she was.

And she’s still tight. As I move in and out of her, it’s tight as ever--if she weren’t as soaking wet as she was, it would never fit.

I start to fuck her hard--for all I’m worth. My balls slap against her with each thrust, and her heels dig deep into my back. My body becomes slick with sweat, and I slide against her soft skin as I fuck her into oblivion.

Nothing feels as good as fucking her raw, and knowing I can come over and over deep inside her. Sometimes I do enjoy pulling out and coming on a woman, but this time with Elise, nothing will feel better than filling her up with my seed.

After several minutes, I pull out of her, and her eyes widen.

“Hunter, please...I need you to--”

“On your knees,” I say. My voice is gravel now, I don’t want her to disobey or question me.

She flips over and gets on her knees. Without even having to tell her further, she bends down with her face against the pillow. Her ass stays up in the air, and her pussy and glorious ass are up in the air and begging for me.

I look down at my cock, it’s twitching in expectation, and it’s covered in her thick cream.

I smile wide, grip her beautiful hips and ass with both hands, and plunge back inside her.

“Wow!” she shouts.

I start to pump her.

“It’s different,” she says between moans, “than before, I can feel--ah!”

Yeah. My cock is sliding across her fucking g-spot now. I doubt those douchebags she’s been with before lasted long enough to even lightly graze her g-spot. Even if they tried, they probably weren’t even big enough to.

I dig my fingers into the thick flesh of her ass. Even though her waist is so tiny, her hips are fucking perfect and curvy as hell. She’s unbelievable, and even though I haven’t come yet, she’s easily the best fuck I’ve ever had.

“Oh my God,” she gasps, “Hunter...I’m…”

“Cum all over my cock, sweetie, don’t be shy.”

“It feels like I have to pee--”

“That’s good,” I say, panting. “It means you’re going to cum hard. Don’t hold back on me.”

And speaking of cumming, just the thought of her creaming all over my cock buried deep inside her sets me off. I pull her hips up further against me, and her upper body goes even flatter. I start to thrust as fast as I can, and I feel her inner walls squeeze and clench against me.

And then there’s a flood. Elise moans, and I feel impossible wetness surging across my cock.

“Fuck!” I shout.

Her whole body convulses, and I don’t stop pumping her for even a moment. Each time I sink in and out of her, my cock gets soaking wet. My adrenaline spikes, and I feel my body passing the point of no return. Even if I pulled out of her now and entered a deep meditative state, my balls would still empty themselves. No force in the world could stop me from coming now, so I grunt and grab her perfect tits. I thrust in and out of her as many times as I can before I finally cum.

“Hunter!” she screams.

That does it. Hearing her say my name like that is too much. My balls twitch, and I feel what may be the thickest load I’ve ever had blast through me and dump into Elise.

“Oh, fuck, sweetie,” I say, my eyes rolling back into my head, as a second thick load explodes into her.

“I can feel it inside me,” she screams.

I keep pumping her as I cum. My mind and body was completely overloaded, and each time I shoot another load inside her, some of that tension eases. As I empty the last of myself into her, the tension has melted away to a warmth and relaxation that I haven’t felt in recent memory.

Elise collapses beneath me--I’m still inside her, but she falls flat. I lay atop her, using my arms to stop my weight from crushing her.

“Hunter,” she says. “Did you know?”

Know what? Did she lie about being on birth control? I feel so fucking good right now that I can’t imagine anything she could say would make me angry. Not even that.

“Did I know what?” I ask, stroking her hair.

I pull my out of her. The bed is soaked, as is my cock. I fall down beside her. Her face is flushed red, and there are tears in her eyes.

It’s not the first time I’ve fucked a woman to tears, but I sense some actual sadness in her expression.

“I should have told you before,” she says.

“Told me what?”

“That was my first time.”

Fuck. She was a virgin? There’s no way.

“I thought I would bleed…” she says. “But I didn’t, so I thought of just not telling you. But, um, I guess I don’t like to keep secrets.”

Holy shit.

Even through my warm glow, I feel angry. She frowns, she can see in my face that I’m pissed.

“You should have told me,” I whisper.

“Yeah?” she asks, sitting up. I can’t help but eye her tits and stomach as she gets up. “And then what? You wouldn’t have done it? I don’t regret it, Hunter, not at all. Do you?”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. “You should have lost it with someone your own age…” I mumble.

“What about doing what feels right?” she asks. “You told me to forget the formula and do what feels good.”

I shake my head. My own dumbass words coming back to bite my ass. “If there was a formula,” I say, “then being a virgin would be a variable.”

“I’ve never cum like that before, Hunter. Never. I never want to make myself cum again, not if I can come like this. Do you really think a guy my age could do that for me?”

No. No way in hell.

“When did you turn eighteen?” I ask.

“Two months ago,” she says.

Something clicks in my head, something bad, but just as I think I realize what it is, it disappears into my subconscious.

I let out a deep sigh.

“You made me feel good, and safe, and loved,” Elise says. She puts a hand over her mouth and blushes. “Oh, geez, I’m not actually dropping the L-word on you, Hunter, I just mean loved, not in love...you gave me something that no one else could. I’m sure of that. Even if we never see each other again--”

“We will see each other again,” I say. It comes right out of my mouth with ironclad conviction. I don’t even think about it, but after I say it, I don’t second-guess it either.

Her face lights up. “So...me being a virgin doesn’t matter. I’m not actually a virgin anymore--”

I shake my head. “Okay, stop saying the V-word.”

“So you really want to, uh, keep seeing me? It can be on your terms, Hunter, I’m...I know the age difference won’t be--”

“On our terms,” I say. “It’s not just about me.”

A voice inside my head is laughing. No, it’s cackling, and it sounds just like Dash’s obnoxious cackle. When was the last time I gave two shits about a woman? And now, this woman--this girl--has me wrapped around her little finger? Fuck.

Elise bites her lip. “Well...I don’t know what your friends and family are like, if they’d be cool with the idea of us together, but I know my mom would flip.”

I nod. “I got it. It’s still early, let’s just lay here like this until I’m hard again.”

Her eyes widen. “What…”

I sit up now and take her by the shoulder. “We’re going to fuck all night, Elise. That’s as far as my plans for the future go.”

* * *

We almost make it all night. A few hours before the sun starts to rise, after she rides me for all she’s worth, she passes right out with my cock still inside her.

I splash some water on my face and get her some clean blankets.

The harsh reality is starting to hit me now. I have to marry Nadine today. I have to turn her company around. And now I have to juggle all that with Elise in my life. I look down at her perfect face and full lips as she sleeps. She’s worth the risk.

If Nadine knew I was taking this gamble, she might call the whole thing off. For a moment, I consider just telling her, but…

I live for risk. I always have. I’ve saved over three Fortune 500 companies now, and it’s always been too easy. Adding Elise to the equation changes that. When I sleep with her, and when I kiss her, it’s simple as anything. It feels right. There’s no way it could be wrong in those moments. But as soon as I leave that bed, it’s wrong as hell, and I know it. If anyone found out about Elise and me while I was married to Nadine, then Nadine’s company—and my reputation with it—would go down the shitter.

But I don’t care. I want Elise. I won’t let her go. I can have everything I want.

I hop into the shower, and then after toweling off, I start to get ready for my courthouse wedding. Nadine wants me to go to the office straightaway afterward, so I put on a suit and tie.

Even with the tie, a hint of my tattoos reaches up my neck. I like to subvert people's expectations. How many East Coast CEOs have tattoos visible when they wear a suit? I know I could never get away with it if I wasn’t as fucking good at what I do as I am. But I am that good, and I can get away with anything.

Almost anything, I realize, looking down at Elise still sound asleep in my bed. If everyone knew I had taken an 18-year-old’s virginity just a few hours before marrying Nadine, then that probably wouldn’t fly.

I don’t want to wake her up, so I leave her a note with my number. There’s plenty to eat in my fridge, so I tell her to help herself and stay as long as she’d like.

I don’t know if she has class tomorrow or what, but I do know that most college classes don’t even start until 10:00 a.m. or so. Students get lazier and lazier, and the schools cater to it. Elise isn’t lazy, but there’s no way she’s waking up early after fucking so hard all night.

I admit that I’m a little bit tired, too, but I can get by on about three hours of sleep, and if I miss a night, I just need to grab a few more hours the next night.

I don’t feel like driving, so I grab a cab. I could easily afford to have my own driver, but I always found that to be such a stupid fucking extravagance. If I can call a cab and it takes just a few minutes, why do I need to pay some dude with white gloves to be at my beck and call around the clock in the off-chance I need him to drive me somewhere?

I get to the courthouse at dawn. It’s not usually open this early, but Nadine pulled some strings so she wouldn’t miss any work.

Nadine is in her early forties, though she could pass for a few years younger. She has dark hair that would spill down to her shoulders—that is, if it wasn’t always tied up in a tight bun on top of her head. Her cheekbones are high and sharp, and her white skin is nearly flawless. There are some wrinkles starting to show, but on her they look well-earned. The signs of aging make her appear stronger.

She gives me a forced smile. Something has her worried, but I don’t feel like prying. We try to keep out of each other's personal lives.

I’ve never fucked her. I never even really considered it, to be honest. When I first met her, she was my brother Damon’s high school sweetheart. And then Damon died.

Nadine could have just left my family after that--she and Damon had only been dating for eight months or so--but she stuck with us--she acted like a member of the family. She felt like she’d been more than his girlfriend. I’m sure she’d have married him if he hadn’t driven his car off a bridge.

She faded from my life when she started college. She’d call me from time to time and check up on me--she’d started to feel like an older sister, but not that close. Sometimes she only called me once or twice a year. When she got pregnant, she stopped calling.

I heard from her again a few years after Celia’s dad was completely out of the picture, and Nadine was already rising up within Sencorp’s ranks.

I didn’t pass judgement on her for not raising her daughter. I sure as hell wouldn’t have wanted to be stuck with a kid when I was in my early twenties.

I was mostly being a fuck-up around that time anyway. I barely passed high school, and I’d been working at a tattoo shop. Not even as an apprentice or anything, just cleaning toilets and helping at the counter. I saved up all my money, and I bought stolen shit from the Chinese and Greek mafia. I bought in bulk, and then sold it for a killing. It was all going well until I owed so much money that both the Chinese and the Greeks wanted to kill me.

Nadine bailed me out. She gave me a no-strings loan. She probably thought I’d just fuck up again, but I paid back my debts, re-invested, and once I had the money to go legit and get out of my life of crime, I did. I started my own company, and soon my wealth eclipsed Nadine’s. I paid her back in full, but I still feel like I owe her. I’d be dead if she hadn’t helped me when she did.

The court clerk is an older man with a deep frown. The frown gets even deeper when he looks at me.

“You’re sure about this, Ms. Haze?” he asks, ignoring me.

“Yes,” Nadine says. “Hunt, are you sure?”

I think of Elise in my bed, and how bad it could be for Nadine. This is my last chance to tell her. But if I tell her, she’s fucked anyway, isn’t she? Sencorp will go under without my help.

Nadine struggled for decades to rise up to the rank of CEO. She watched incompetent fucks above her squandering the company’s capital on half-baked ventures, and she still wasn’t in a high enough position to stop them. Only when things got really bad did they hold an emergency meeting to make her CEO. She finally got what she’d always wanted—instead of raising her daughter, she had sacrificed everything for her career —but it was a trap. The only reason they made her CEO was so that she could captain the sinking ship. So that she could be responsible for the failure that others had worked so long at creating.

If I don’t save her, no one will. It’s my one chance to pay her back for saving me.

“I’m sure,” I say.

“Sign here,” the clerk says.

We both sign.

“I don’t suppose you want to kiss,” he says, the frown nearly swallowing his face.

“No,” Nadine says.

“We’re done here then,” he says. “Don’t come to me if you change your mind, Ms. Haze.”

“Thanks for your concern, Dustin,” Nadine says.

“So…” I say. “I guess we’re married now.”

Nadine and I step outside the courthouse to share a cigarette in the cold air. Neither of us usually smokes, but this is one of those occasions that calls for one.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“You already told me you don’t give a shit, Hunt.”

“Ah,” I nod. “Your daughter? Yeah, I really don’t want to hear it.”

She laughs and shakes her head.

Our relationship is odd. Ever since we both became business-minded, we have only focused on that. I vaguely remember Nadine holding me as I held back my tears at Damon’s funeral, but ever since she gave me that loan, we’ve been all business. It’s worked for us.

“You don’t have to care, Hunt,” she says, “but this cigarette isn’t de-stressing me, so I need to at least vent. Just pretend you’re listening, okay?”

“Fine,” I say, taking the cigarette from her hand and taking a long drag.

“I told Celia not to stay out too late. I told her to be back home by midnight. When she wasn’t home at twelve-thirty, I called her. No answer. Then I texted her saying to at least let me know she’s okay. No response.”

I only half listen. Remind me to never have kids.

“She’s supposed to start her internship today, and I don’t even know where the hell she is. I had to really fight with her father to get her to stay with me. He says I’m not cut out to take care of her.”

“Focus on the company,” I say, throwing the cigarette bud down into the alley. “She’s a big girl.”

“She’s barely eighteen, Hunt.”

“Alright,” I say, “I’m backing out of this, I listened, I have no opinion. Now tell me about upper management. Who can I sack?”

“You’re more like Stalin than King Midas,” Nadine says icily. “Your first step is a big purge?”

“Not always,” I say. “But for how mismanaged that place is, a purge is essential.”

“Let me call my driver,” Nadine says. “We need to go there anyway. I’ll show you around, and then you can slam down your iron fist.”

“Gold fist,” I say, grinning.