I pump out the last drops of my cum as I shove the self-deprecating thoughts aside and focus on cleaning myself up for real. The water’s starting to taper off into lukewarm territory, and I know I don’t have long until I lose the warmth I crave.
So I finish up, grab a towel, and head to bed. I don’t bother putting underwear on, because what’s the point? I live alone. One of the only perks of living alone is being able to walk around naked and no one can say anything about it.
When I get in bed, beneath my warm sheets, I let out a sigh of exasperation and relief. And as slumber drags me down into its darkness, I tell myself tomorrow will be better.
Because at least tomorrow, for the day, I can pretend I’m not truly alone.
Chapter Six
Aaron
The room feels colder without the sound of his voice in my ear, and I hate it. I look around the room—it’s the penthouse, of course, because why would the sole son of Tony Everett not have the best digs anywhere he goes— even if that hotel is ourrivalcompany,Tempest.
Though, despite the name, everything is beige and white and boring, and even the fireplace itself looks plain. Unassuming.Modern,my father would say.
I think it just looks like some woman on theTempestdesign team was having her sad beige phase, but I digress.
I could have stayed at one of my family’s countlessEvermoreproperties—the hotels or the villas, even—but until I can get things on track with this whole date thing and my dad’s retirement, I don’t want to press my luck. Besides, I like my privacy and alone time, and when you’re the son of the guy who owns the hotel, especially the son who people love to gossip about, it’s best sometimes to keep your distance if you don’t want unsavory rumors spread.
And despite theTempestbeing the property of Robert Tempest—my dad’s arch nemesis—I feel like I’m less likely to be judged here because Garrett is enough of a shield where gossip is concerned. No one dares to say a word about him and his fucked up bullshit love life.
Seriously, the man’s been married like three times already and he’s only forty-two.
Though, to be fair, I've never understood the rivalry between my dad and Robert Tempest, to tell the truth. I’m not sure if it’s a personal vendetta or if it’s just pure jealousy because theTempestchain of hotels is so wildly popular, but then again, comparingTempesttoEvermoreis like comparing apples to oranges.Tempestcaters to a more… niche audience thanEvermoredoes. The kind of niche audience that requires secrecy and discretion. Which also makes it a good place to hide out when I’m in town.
There’s a reason their tagline isawakening the storm inside you.But I know my dad would also have a coronary if he knew Garrett—Rob’s son— and I have been rivals-with-benefits since college. When he’s in town, or when we’re both in the same place—because we both work in the same industry—we meet up for drinks and fuck. Sometimes, it’s nice, just because it breaks up the monotony of me having to take care of myneeds myself, but it’s also nice to just be with someone who doesn’t expect anything in return and who’s familiar with the business. Garrett’s got his own money, he doesn’t need mine, and therefore he might be the only person on the planet who actually doesn’t want it.
What he wants is something money can’t buy. Well, it can, but Garrett isn’t the kind of guy you’re going to find picking up someone in a club somewhere, if only because he’s paranoid as fuck about that sort of thing. No, instead, Garrett is much moreselectiveof the men he brings back to his bed. Like me, he’s got a type, and that type is young, submissive, and easy to manipulate. Which is why our arrangement works the way it does. I don’t have a submissive bone in my body, and Garrett knows it. Even doms need someone to take control sometimes.
But that doesn’t mean he wantsme,and while the guy is a kinky bastard sometimes, he’s pretty annoying and pissy as a person and I swear I can only handle him when we’re drunk and I’m making him beg for my cock.
Still, disdain aside for my fucked up fuck buddy, I know he’s always good for a favor. Like letting me stay in one of the manyTempesthotels, under a pseudonym so my dad doesn’t find out.
And just as if the thought of him could somehow summon him, that’s when I hear the chime of his text.
Stormy Bitch: You up?
I roll my eyes, debating if I should answer him. I could just ignore him, go to bed. I do have an early day tomorrow, but I also know what he’s going to ask, and I’m already feeling a little too drunk to be smart, and my cock is still semi-hard from my discussion with Prince Charming.
Seriously, who gets turned on by someone’s voice? Someone desperate for human interaction, that’s who.
I tap out my response quickly.
Me: You know it.
Stormy Bitch: Just got in and was going to head to my room, but if you’re up I could come to yours.
Me: Fine.
I toss the phone on the table, pouring myself another drink, if only because I know I am going to feel this tomorrow. The drink and the guilt. But it’s been a long day, and the prospect of some company—even if it’s company that pisses me off most of the time—is too good to pass up.
It’s better than being alone.Especially right now, when I feel the loneliness that is my fucking life.
This company—Evermore—it’s all I really have. Because clearly an actual relationship—the kind my parents seem to think will make mesuitablein their eyes—doesn’t exist for a guy like me.
I’m halfway through my refill when there’s a click at the door and I know Garrett’s arrived. He doesn’t bother to knock, since there’s no point. He’s got access to every room here, so why bother?
My glance turns to where he stands, looking more put together than I feel at the moment. Garrett’s not a bad looking guy. He is always well-dressed, not a hair out of place on his head, his suits expertly tailored. His attention to detail is tantamount to his skills as the CFO ofTempest, and his kinks. Garrett loves to control the situation, which is why he’s a natural dom.
