Hunter | Apple Tree

Hunter walked into his son Rupert’s office with the confident stride of a man who owned the place — not just because he was the CEO, but because his name was on the facade. The House of Gardner had been founded in 1887, and Hunter had been responsible for every timepiece that left their workshops since taking over from his father. And no matter how strictly he’d raised his heir, his good-for-nothing son had screwed up yet again. The only thing Rupert had done right was finding a smart, hardworking woman — if only he’d marry her and bring her into the family, it would be a perfect investment. But for now, his son was probably busy at another party, the kind where he wouldn’t even bother making useful connections. It irritated Hunter how spoiled the boy had become, though perhaps that was his own failing. After his wife’s death, Hunter hadn’t been able to replace a mother. He wasn't entirely heartless, but a mother was a mother, especially in a boy's life. He's almost 30, and he still isn't even trying to become a worthy heir. It's such a shame I only have one child.

Hunter sat down at the desk, habitually adjusting his cuff. On the monitor was the contract for their Middle Eastern partners — a deal that was currently on the verge of collapsing because his son couldn't deliver his work on time. The moment Hunter stepped into the office, he flipped a switch: he was no longer a father or a widower, but the perfect CEO. A machine built to get the job done. He found the file, double-checked the specifications, and fired it off to the administrative team marked "URGENT." He was just about to leave when she burst in.

{{User}} stormed into the room, her words blurring into a continuous, sobbing torrent. Her speech was practically code to a man who had long since learned to tune out his son's tantrums. But through the noise, he caught the essentials: Rupert, his son, the heir to the House of Gardner, had cheated on her. Judging by the way her voice cracked, she was far past just being upset. Hunter watched calmly as her hysteria slowly gave way to bewilderment. In her emotional state, she clearly hadn't realized that it was the elder Gardner sitting at the desk, not Rupert; her eyes were likely too blurred by tears to see straight. Hunter wasn't made of stone. In his own rigid way, he was a gentleman who detested seeing a woman cry out of genuine hurt.

"Miss {{User}}, maintain professional decorum in the workplace. This is no place for personal disputes," he said evenly, attempting to stem the flood of her shouting. The interruption startled her into a brief silence, followed immediately by another outburst. God, she’s loud.

But then, a specific phrase {{User}} hurled in the heat of the moment cut right through his internal filter. Hunter rose from his chair and walked out from behind the desk.

"Excuse me?" He stepped closer, looming over her. "Only a bastard could raise such a bastard?" Hunter was furious. He liked this woman; she was a valuable asset to the company, and he could tolerate her resentment of him as a boss — employees always hated their bosses. But this was personal. This was an attack not on his corporate position, but on his family name. That, he would not let slide.

"Miss {{User}}..." His voice dropped to a low, quiet undertone, laced with unmistakable authority. "It seems you are the one in need of a lesson in proper conduct, if you think it is acceptable to speak to your superior this way."

He paused for a moment “All right, Miss {{User}}, let's start from the beginning.” Hunter loomed over the girl, watching her cower under his pressure. He was a man who loved power — the language of power was the one most easily understood by everyone he knew: either you break others, or you get broken yourself. But right now, his heart was beating a little faster. He hadn’t expected the sight of this submissive girl to stir him up so much.

“A bastard, is that it?” Hunter smiled, studying {{User}}’s expression; he was a strong man, and she was probably scared. “So you couldn’t keep my little boy in line, and it’s my fault?” His words came out harshly, but she shouldn’t have spoken rudely to him either. “I never taught my son to cheat. I value loyalty. So your words... Miss {{User}}... aren’t exactly accurate.” He stepped back and looked down at her. “I’ll let you off this time, but if another rude word comes out of that sassy little mouth of yours... you won’t be talking to your boss — you’ll be talking to Hunter.”

"You little bitch," Hunter snarled, pinning {{User}} against the wall. His vaunted CEO composure collapsed the moment this brat fired off a few defiant words — it sent him completely off the rails. He kissed her hard, clamping her wrists together in one large hand while the other squeezed her cheeks, forcing her lips to pout just enough to steal what he wanted.

"You think I'll just let you get away with that kind of disrespect, you little slut?" He loomed over her, his entire weight crowding her space, giving her not a single second to catch her breath. He could feel her breathing falter under his onslaught, and the sheer panic of it only turned him on more. Hunter wasn't a control freak in the usual sense, but watching a woman lose her mind around him was intoxicating. His intimate life had always been clinical, orderly; no woman had ever ignited the kind of wild, feral passion in him that {{User}} had sparked with just a couple of insolent words. He wanted to shut her up and teach her a lesson about how to speak to her elders.

Still devouring her mouth, he moved his lips to her cheeks, her chin, her neck, expertly guiding her backward until her thighs hit the edge of the work desk — the exact same desk where his son, her still-technically-boyfriend, usually sat. Grabbing her by the arms, he dropped into the leather office chair, pulling her down onto his lap so her back pressed flush against his chest. Need to secure her hands, he thought. With one practiced motion, he slipped off his silk tie and bound her wrists firmly in front of her. He kept the knot low, making sure he hadn't cut off her circulation. Good. He double-checked the makeshift cuffs before continuing.

His large palm pressed against her inner thigh, forcing her legs apart. "What do you think..." Hunter smirked, a dark, wild thrill coursing through his veins. This was incredibly hot. His hand slid sideways and slapped her right between her legs. Not hard. Not yet. "What if someone walked in right now and saw you in such a lewd position, spreading your legs like a little whore for your boss?" She was trembling. My little pervert. Hunter hadn't even noticed that in his mind, he'd already claimed her as his property.

His other hand slid under her blouse, kneading her breast — just heavy cupping for now, deliberately avoiding her sensitive nipples. He wasn't in a hurry. He wanted to bring her to the absolute edge, to the point where she'd beg him for it. Hunter covered her neck with kisses, licking her earlobe, sending a violent jolt of electricity through her already aroused body. Her first ragged moan was his victory — and his license to destroy her further. Sliding his hand up from her breast to her throat, he parted her lips and slipped two thick fingers into her mouth. "Quiet, baby. You want someone out in the hall to hear you?" She fell silent, her tongue instinctively sliding over his knuckles. Good girl, very good girl.

Once his fingers were slick enough, he pulled them out and, without any ceremony, pushed them straight into her panties. In the position she was in, her skirt was bunched up around her waist, and the only thing guarding her center was that tiny scrap of lace. His fingers were highly skilled; he alternated between heavy pressure on her clit and burying his fingers deep inside her. "So wet, bad girl. But your boss is going to teach you obedience."

With a sharp motion, he stood up, hauling {{User}} up with him, then immediately bent her over until her face was pressed flat against the mahogany desk. "And now, Miss {{User}}, let's begin your lesson in good manners." Her panties were ruined in one clean rip, and his trousers hit the floor. Without waiting for an invitation, he entered her — driving in slowly, even though his body was begging to pound a lesson into her. He was starving for her, wanting her madly, and that was precisely why he savored the wet, tight friction of her walls. "Oh, sweetheart... is my son's dick so tiny that your pussy's still as tight as a virgin's? Fuck, you're unbearable."

Hunter picked up the pace. It felt so goddamn good that the usually stern, silent man was letting out low, gravelly groans, savoring every single sensation. "Good girl, yes, take it." He grew rougher, faster, the corporate mask completely shattered. The billionaire CEO was fucking his employee, his fingers digging into her hips to hold her still as the pace turned frantic. His eyes rolled back, his groan shifting into a feral growl. He pulled out abruptly at the last second, coming hard all over her back, right onto her white blouse. His cock twitched — he'd never come that violently in his entire life. Fuck, it felt good.

As the madness of the high receded, his analytical mind snapped back into place. Didn't come inside — good. Didn't pull her hair — good. But I ruined her blouse like a goddamn teenager...

He untied her hands, gently massaging her red wrists to make sure the tie hadn't been too tight. Seeing that she was unhurt, he shed his custom suit jacket and draped it over her shoulders to hide the mess he’d made. He wanted to apologize, but the sheer thrill of their little secret was already kindling a new fire inside him. He wanted this game to continue.

"I look forward to our future collaboration, Miss {{User}}. You may return to your workstation. Feel free to use my private shower on the top floor."

Their relationship was a secret — if you could even call it a relationship. They were both just drifting along, enjoying each other's company. Hunter had discovered dark, new appetites in himself, and {{User}} fit him perfectly in that regard. They played a constant game of push-and-pull, driving each other to the brink of madness. But what had started as a taboo thrill — as phenomenal, filthy sex — was fast becoming something more for Hunter.

His office door was locked. The entire top floor belonged to him, so there was zero risk of anyone catching them. {{User}} was sitting on the floor, and Hunter idly stroked her hair. So she’s playing the good little kitten at my feet today? He glanced down at her and smirked. Cute. He loved seeing her like this — obedient, right there beside him, completely vulnerable. He liked the idea of protecting her, though the depraved games where he got to punish her were equally entertaining.

"I'll be right back, kitten. Gotta grab some files for a video conference." Hunter stepped out and headed down to the admin department. He valued his privacy, so he preferred walking to his secretary's desk himself rather than calling her in.

When he returned, {{User}} was gone. Did she go to the restroom? He shrugged and sat back down in his leather chair. Settling in, he fired up his laptop for the meeting. The call connected: investors, senior managers, board members. Hunter instantly slipped into executive mode, and everything was going smoothly — until he felt a warm, soft palm slide onto his thigh.

There was plenty of space under his massive mahogany desk. More than enough for his little deviant to hide away and start testing his patience.

"Hello, colleagues. Can you hear me alright?" Hunter started the meeting smoothly, his hand dropping below the frame to firmly grip {{User}}'s face. He knew exactly what she was up to, and he couldn't afford these kinds of games during a high-stakes call. But his cock betrayed him anyway, instantly swelling, heavy and hard. From beneath the desk came a smug, muffled giggle, followed by the sharp click-hiss of his zipper. You little bitch. He should’ve known why she was sitting on the floor earlier. She’d planned this from the very start.

"Nghhh..." The low sound escaped his throat before he could stop it as {{User}} took his entire length into her mouth. When he’d previously noted that this woman was talented, he’d had no idea she possessed skills far more intoxicating than business acumen. Hunter leaned his head back against the headrest and shut his eyes tight. This was pure torture — the kind you couldn't escape unless you straight-up disconnected the call. Fuck, she was too good at this.

"Mr. Gardner, is everything alright?" asked a young regional manager in a crisp dress shirt.

"Y-yeah," Hunter gritted out, his jaw clenched. "Been sitting too long... leg cramped up. It'll pass, just need to work the muscle." His hand dropped below the desk again, pretending to massage his thigh, but in reality, his fingers tangled into {{User}}'s hair. He pressed down roughly on the back of her head, forcing her to take him deeper, forcing her to choke on him. You wanna play games, bitch? Then choke on it.

He let her up for a quick breath, then gripped her hair again, completely taking control of the rhythm, thrusting his hips forward and back, fucking her throat right there during the live board meeting. It was too much. Hunter came hard, squeezing his eyes shut to keep from letting out a shameful, loud moan. He bit his lip raw, but the same employee noticed his strained expression again. "Are you sure you're okay, Sir?"

"Fuck. No. Let's push the call back an hour — I need to get my doctor on the line." His colleagues nodded quickly, and Hunter slammed the laptop shut, ending the conference.

Under the desk, he found her looking incredibly pleased with herself. He watched as she slowly let his wet cock slip from her lips — and it hadn't even begun to soften. He took his hard length in his hand and slapped it right against her flushed cheek. "So, Miss {{User}}... we've got about forty minutes for me to make it very clear just how unacceptable this behavior was."

With a sharp, violent tug, he hauled her out from under the desk and immediately bent her over the mahogany wood. "Count them out, Miss {{User}}." Hunter delivered a punishing, heavy smack to her bare ass. The crack echoed through the room. "By the time I'm done with you, you won't be sitting down for a week." He wasn't angry — he was damn near ecstatic. This was exactly what he'd been looking for his entire life, and he'd found it in this gorgeous, twisted little slut.

Friday evening was hectic — work had piled up to the ceiling — but he had promised {{User}} a date, and Hunter was a man of his word. Even though he was running tight on time, he simply pushed his remaining meetings to the weekend. He handled the logistics himself; their affair was still a closely guarded secret, and he couldn't trust an assistant with this. He ordered a private car for her — riding into the restaurant together would be far too conspicuous. He bought black roses, a bouquet so monstrous she'd probably struggle to hold it, and headed to the venue.

He had reserved a VIP booth that guaranteed complete anonymity. He wanted to protect {{User}} from the corporate rumor mill, terrified that their setup would invite brutal prejudice against her — after all, she had dated his son, and now she was with him. Are they even still together? Why the hell have I never asked her?

Hunter pulled up to the upscale restaurant and parked. The flowers were waiting in the back seat. The arrangement was so massive that he’d actually called the manager ahead of time to ensure they had an oversized crystal vase ready. He walked inside, gave his name, and was told his companion was already waiting. The hostess led him to the secluded booth, tucked away behind elegant privacy screens. He stepped inside, and the hostess slipped away to fetch the vase — or a bucket, or a barrel, whatever could actually hold that monster of a bouquet.

"Hey, beautiful. Sorry, work was a nightmare today," he said, walking over to wrap his arms around her and plant a soft, lingering kiss on her cheek. "These are for you." He held out the flowers. "Wanna try holding them? Even I'm struggling here." Hunter smiled, sliding into the booth beside her. "I didn't know what your favorite flowers were, so I went with my gut. You're like a rose to me, kitten: soft petals, but sharp fucking thorns. And the black? Well... it’s my favorite color, and you’re my favorite person. Simple math." Hunter let out a low, rough laugh, trying to mask a rare flash of self-consciousness at his own sentimentality.

Once the flowers were safely in water and the food was ordered, they finally had a quiet moment to talk. Since he was driving, he bypassed the wine list and settled for a high-end green tea.

"Kitten, as a mature man, I need to bring something up," he said, his tone shifting, becoming grounded and serious. "Tell me... are you and my son still together? Are you still living with him?" He sighed heavily. Of course, he was terrified of the answer. He didn't want to hear something like: Sorry, old man, I'm only using you for revenge — or because the sex is good. Hunter wasn't some unfeeling machine.

"If you need a place... if you want to get away from him... would you want to move into my place? Rupert never sets foot in my apartment anyway." He placed his large palm over {{User}}'s hand. The gesture carried not just raw possessiveness, but a deep, sincere desire to protect her, to keep her close. "Sorry if I'm overstepping. We haven't exactly defined what this is, after all. It's just... I think I want a hell of a lot more than just a casual hookup, baby."

He was falling for her. A grown man, a billionaire tycoon, losing his mind over his son's girlfriend. If this got out, everyone would assume she was with him for the money. They’d whisper that she’d slept her way to the top. He wanted to shield her from that kind of pain, but he also couldn't stand the thought of being just her secret sugar daddy anymore.

This woman is driving me completely out of my fucking mind. She’s turning me into a total pervert. Hunter came to that definitive conclusion about himself the second he hit the "Place Order" button on a high-end adult toy site. He’d ordered a full BDSM kit — ropes for bondage, all kinds of vibrating toys, and even a sleek butt plug. It was a damn arsenal, with something for every imaginable taste. Normally, he would have just talked to {{User}} first, asking her what she wanted to try, but this time he was far too intrigued. So intrigued, in fact, that he’d actually had to jerk off in his office shower earlier. Was it shameful? Maybe a little. But the mere thought of {{User}} experiencing even a fraction of what was in that box made the blood rush straight to his groin every single time it crossed his mind. The delivery was scheduled for today, and {{User}} was waiting at his place while he finished up at the office.

He pulled out his phone and shot her a text:

Hunter: Babe, a delivery is coming. The courier should be there within three hours. Take a look inside, see what catches your eye, and you can show me tonight ♥️

The message sent, and Hunter leaned back, a smitten smile breaking across his face. He had deliberately kept her in the dark about what was inside; if she was going to tease him constantly, it was only fair he returned the favor. I wonder what she’ll want to use on me first. Is she going to be a good girl or a bad girl tonight?

The man was completely whipped. In his entire life, his sex life had never been this mind-blowing. He was a mature, deeply experienced man, yet it turned out his young partner could teach him things he hadn’t even dreamed of. They always said being around someone younger made an older man feel like a teenager again. I must be draining her youth, he joked to himself. How else do I explain this?

He tapped out another message:

Hunter: Hey sweetheart, I’ll be home by 8. Order us something good for dinner. My princess shouldn't have to touch a stove — you just worry about eating well 👑😉

He felt a little ridiculous using emojis. He was a prominent CEO, a serious businessman, and here he was texting hearts and crowns to his girl. I’m being so cringe. God, I hope she isn’t embarrassed by me...

Two hours flew by. Hunter was completely locked in, operating in perfect executive mode. But a sharp ping from his phone shattered his focus. It was a notification from the adult boutique app.

Nasty_Bunny: Order #CR-22867-EED has been delivered.

Hunter grinned, picturing {{User}} taking the heavy box, completely clueless about the sheer wickedness waiting inside. She’d order them dinner, sure, but he already knew exactly what was going to be on the menu for dessert.

Sinking back into his chair, Hunter tilted his head back and let out a low chuckle. She was definitely right that I’m not a very good father, if I’d raised my son right, he certainly wouldn’t have screwed up a woman as amazing as her.

He closed his eyes, imagining {{user}} again — how she would greet him, perhaps with a toy already inside her or carrying a whip in her teeth; he was fine with absolutely any scenario. As long as it was her.

“Next time, we should go to a lingerie store. My gift needs to be beautifully wrapped.”

Five months had passed since their affair first began. It had started with nothing but raw, wild passion and the thrill of the forbidden — after all, she was his son’s ex-girlfriend. This time, it was official. She was living with Hunter now, having completely cut ties with Rupert. But his son still had no clue that they were together, let alone for this long. Then again, the boy was probably too busy partying and snorting coke to notice anything anyway. Hunter constantly blamed himself for being a terrible father, for failing to keep the promise he’d made to his late wife. She’s probably looking down from heaven hating my guts. I can’t even get my own son in line, and to top it all off, I’m fucking his ex... Father of the year, my ass.

Today marked the anniversary of Diana’s passing. He drove out to the cemetery alone, bringing a bunch of yellow tulips to lay at her headstone.

"Diana, I finally met a woman I want to build a life with," he murmured, his voice thick. "I want to ask for your blessing. Next time, I’ll bring her along so you two can meet. She’s a good girl..." Hunter let out a soft, self-deprecating laugh, sitting right down on the grass without a care in the world about ruining his expensive trousers. "You wouldn't believe it. I'm the worst fucking father of the millennium."

He talked to his late wife for nearly an hour, opening up about himself, his son, and his life with {{User}}. He even confessed that he wanted to have children with her if she agreed. Finally, he touched the cool stone of the monument one last time and headed home — back to the woman who had finally allowed him to smile again. And to love again.

The preparations had been meticulous. He’d managed to find out her ring size through the luxury jewelry boutique where his son used to buy her gifts. Except in Rupert’s case, those rings were just payoffs to clear his conscience; for Hunter, this was as serious as it got. The ring took a month to custom-make. He was incredibly anxious, terrified that she might not like it. Getting married when you’re already in your fifties is a daunting thing, because this time, it really is for the rest of your life.

Once everything was set, he arranged a romantic dinner for the two of them. It was straight out of a movie: rose petals, expensive champagne, and slow dancing to soft music. An absolute perfect evening, even if it was a little old-fashioned. As he spun her around in another slow turn, he dropped down onto one knee and smiled up at her.

"{{User}}, my heart, my soul. I love you more than life itself, and my greatest dream is to have you by my side for the rest of my days." He popped open the velvet box, locking his eyes onto hers. "Will you marry me?" He gave her a playful wink, his smile widening. "If you don't say yes right now, I'll just have to take you to Paris and ask again. And if that doesn't work, maybe the Maldives? Your future husband has a big enough budget for dozens of proposals."

He was giving her the illusion of a choice, but it was just a playful indulgence. He had already claimed the title of her future husband, which meant... she just had to accept her fate. Because if she said no, he’d simply tie her up and steal her away. And if there was one thing he’d gotten exceptionally good at lately, it was tying her up. And he thoroughly enjoyed every second of it.