“Daryl, you’re so cool. Do you really have to leave to go to your work? I think my dad would like cheese ommy lets too.”
Asher leaned in to hear what the woman had to say. He wanted to know what she was doing in his guest house. From her tone, she sounded young. Where had she come from? Like a mystery, this woman named Daryl was here in his home, entertaining and making his son laugh in ways Asher could have never imagined.
“Are you done with your bowl, Brock?” she asked.
Asher could imagine the woman had a lovely singing voice with how easy her words floated through the air.
“Yes, I enjoyed eating out of the bowl with the spoon. It did make it easier for me to get all the pieces of ommy let. You had to do the hard work with the plate and fork.”
“See, I told you. Now, it’s time you get back over to the big house. I don’t want your folks to worry about you. It’s still early, and I need to pack up and get ready to leave for my work.”
There was no way Asher was letting her get out of here without getting some answers first. Shaking off the spell that had been her voice, Asher came back to his senses. This was a stranger in his guest house. If she’d been living here, he’d have to press charges. This wasn’t a free for all hotel. Folks had to know they couldn’t just live up here for free when he wasn’t here. He made a mental note to hire a year-round caretaker to watch the place when he wasn’t around. Once someone got away with freeloading off a place like this, word would quickly spread.
Asher wanted to kick himself for not taking more interest in his residences. After he made sure the woman wasn’t a danger to his son and got her out of here, he was going to make sure a caretaker was present at all his other homes. This was his son. No matter how much he giggled, this was dangerous. And forget about it if she’d seen him in dragon form last night.
“Aw, do you really have to leave?” Brock said, whining. “You’re my friend. I want you to stay here with me. My dad’s still sleeping anyway.”
That was the cue Asher needed to break up this tea party. Bounding into the doorway with the metal ball still in one hand, he said in his best, deep voice, “What’s going on in here and who are you?”
The young woman that stood before him wasn’t what he was expecting. She jumped, dropping the dishes onto the counter. First, she was… black. The voice had thrown him a little. Next, she was very attractive in a raw, real, honest, primal kind of way. Wait was that the right thing to think? He was a self-proclaimed feminist and lover of all types of people. Was it wrong to use those words to describe her? She was different, not what he’d expected with how she’d spoken with Brock, that’s all.
Liar.
His dick twitched to punctuate the conviction of this truth. The sight of the young, beautiful woman had instantly turned him on. Unlike Monique, who was fifteen years older and had always had a sisterly vibe over him; Daryl hit him in the gut with want and need—to have her. And she wasn’t even trying!
Shit—just want he needed, a woman who could make his plans for a quiet summer very difficult if he spent any amount of time with her. Desire to have her was quick to the forefront, pushing reason and logic down and out. He wanted this woman. She was like no one he’d ever been attracted to before. And there was something about the set of her smile and demeanor that said she wouldn’t fall for his charm easily. That was enough for his dragon to stir and press against his skin.
Down boy.
He had to stay cool and not get sidetracked by lust. In the time it took to take a breath and quick beat to regroup, he scanned her body from head to toe. Natural beauty assailed his senses and completely woke up his dragon. She was perfection. Habit was the only safety that had him guarding against flirting, but it was a challenge.
Asher had been around enough women to know when they had help looking as good as they did. This woman had been under no one’s surgical knife, wore no makeup, and her curly hair was in neat, thick plaits, sort of how a little girl would wear them. As for her pajamas, they were a tank and booty shorts that drove him crazy. They hugged her body in all the right ways. From the fullness of breasts that weighed the front of the tank top sleepwear down to the stretching of the sleepwear boxers that clung to shapely hips and ass for days, to the thick thighs that tapered down into smooth brown toned and well-proportioned legs, she was sexy as fuck.
Instantaneous flashes of those legs tightly wrapped around his hips as he dove into her hot full body rocketed through his mind, sending signals to his dick to advance. It made total sense why his kid was into her. He ached to readjust himself with how fast he’d gotten hard. Instinct had him moving the metal ball to cover his groin area with how his body reacted to hers.
It took less than a minute for her to zone in on the metal ball he held in front of his growing hard on.
“Dad! Meet Daryl, my new best friend!” Brock said, hopping off the tall bar stool to run toward him.
Habit had him picking his son up into his arms and abandoning hope of covering up what his runner’s shorts were incapable of hiding.
Asher caught the woman’s flush from across the room as she averted her eyes and looked down at the dishes next to her on the counter. Giving Brock a quick kiss on the cheek and smelling the hearty aroma of his recently eaten breakfast, Asher instinctively knew the woman hadn’t done anything but be kind to his child. Taking more time than necessary to inspect the little boy just the same, Asher willed his body to calm back down. He needed to be composed when next he spoke to the young woman.
She beat him to it.
“Excuse me, sir. I know what this must look like and I just want to say I’m sorry and will be leaving. But first, I need to ask you how you got a hold of my floating wind turbine?”
Her what? Asher allowed his son to get back down out of his arms. He watched as Brock made a beeline back over to the curvaceous beauty to stand next to her with his arms wrapped around one of those delectable thick thighs of hers. The way her hand draped onto Brock’s shoulder in a caring caress softened Asher’s attempt at being firm with her. But, she was still a trespasser, no matter how attracted he was to her.
“Your what?” he found himself saying.
“My floating wind turbine prototype.” She pointed to his side. “The metal apparatus you have in your hand. That’s mine.”
“Then how did it manage to get onto my property?” He wasn’t going to let on that he’d been the reason it wasn’t still floating.
“I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking. The last time I knew where it was, it was up in the air.”
Asher didn’t miss the narrowing of her eyes as she looked between that flying fan thing and him. He could see questions forming behind her eyes. This might backfire on him if she stopped to reason how he really came to have her gadget in his hand now.
Her hand moved as if on its own to rub Brock on the back between his shoulder blades as she started to talk again. Asher watched his helpless son close his eyes in pleasure and lay his head on her thigh. Little did she know this spot on a dragon was like scratching a dog on the belly or neck. She’d managed to find one of the best spots to bring a dragon to his knees with pleasure, and his kid would be powerless to resist her now.
A wee bit of jealousy singed Asher as he watched, wishing it was him on the receiving end of that rub down. It was hard to reach alone, sensitive and connected to pleasure. He didn’t know how long he stood there at the door watching his son go through a series of feelings so intense, he’d have to explain what had happened later. At this point, Brock was rubbing his cheek back and forth on the woman’s silky smooth thigh. If she kept this up much longer his son would fall asleep, overcome by a pleasure haze.
Unable to stand it any longer, Asher blurted out, “Would you stop rubbing my son like that?”
Her hand froze in mid stroke.
Big, expressive green eyes turned on him, and his child exploded, “Not cool, Dad! Get your own friend. She’s mine!”
That was it! Most o
f his self-composure snapped. He couldn’t help himself, his dragon pressed hard wanting to come to the forefront. To claim what was his.
“Brock, Daryl is a grownup. And, as a grownup, I need to speak with her about some grownup stuff.” The words were coming out too fast and forced. He had to slow it down and get back into his skin. Brock couldn’t help that he was a dragon. Nor, could he be held responsible for how that dragon was behaving. This summer would be when Asher started to introduce that side to him. What was happening here was pivotal in their relationship. Blow this, and the damage might be permanent. He tried again, “Brock, please? I just need to speak with your friend here about some important things. Would you go back over to the house and wait in your room until I come for you?” Brock didn’t budge. “Please, buddy?”
He waited, and his son engaged him in an intense stare down. He could see it from here. There was no way his kid was leaving without a fight. Brock had claimed the woman as his, even if he didn’t know it. Dragons were super possessive, and that trait was rearing its ugly head in front of a stranger. Before he could try this again from a different angle, she bent over to give Brock a side hug. Asher watched as she began to speak to him.
“Hey there, I appreciate how solid you are as a friend, but it’s not cool to speak to your dad like that.” She looked back over to where Asher stood and continued. “He’s right. I’m a grownup, and we need to discuss some grownup things. I want you to know that I wasn’t playing around here. I am your friend and always will be, even if I’m not here.” She placed her hand in the middle of his little chest and said, “I’ll always be here, no matter what, watching out for you—promise. Now, be the best friend I know you can be and do as your father asks. He’s only looking out for you as he should.”
“But he used his mean voice, and I don’t like it.” Brock turned to speak to Asher, “Dad, I’ll go if you promise to stop using your mean voice. Do you?”
Asher was too taken with how the woman had gotten his stubborn offspring to relent that fast. She was a miracle embodied in female form. She might be better than Monique with him if that were possible.
When Asher nodded, Brock shook his head and added, “No, dad, you have to say it. You said it’s not real if you don’t say it.”
This was true. Damn that kid for paying attention to that part of what he’d said. Asher opened his mouth and said, “I promise not to use my mean voice, although, I wasn’t using it.”
“Yes, you were,” Brock countered.
The little shit. He was calling him out in front of her. Asher had not another doubt that this kid was completely his. It was like dealing with all his worse habits in the form that was his heart. Giving in, lest his son start an argument over whether he was using his mean voice, Asher added, “Fine. I’ll stop using the mean voice. There, are you satisfied?” Brock nodded. “All right then, off you go. Don’t stop until you make it back to your room. I’ll be there soon.” Trying to give Brock a stare down to make sure he obeyed him, Asher said, “I mean it. Straight to your room. Now.”
“Got it, Dad.” Brock released the woman’s leg like it was a life jacket in the middle of choppy waters. He turned back to look at her after taking a few steps and asked, “May I have one more hug to take with me?”
She bent down to his level and opened her arms. Asher had to push down another wave of lust as he eyed ample cleavage. His son was the lucky one. The kid ran back into her waiting arms and milked that hug for all it was worth. Asher couldn’t believe she allowed Brock to rock her as he held on. Right when he was about to break up the love fest, the child released her.
Turning around to head out the door, Brock tossed a parting shot before leaving. “Dad, she’s my friend. She’s soft, smells good and gives the best hugs. Be nice to her, or I’ll be mad at you.” To Daryl, he said, “Bye, Daryl. I’ll see you later after Dad makes me get dressed, make my bed and stuff. We’re going to sightsee everything after that. Please come with us?” Asher choked at his son’s brazen forwardness. “Ask her, Dad. I want her to come with us today. Didn’t you say we would have fun? I know I’ll have fun if Daryl comes with us.”
Big green eyes, clear and honest looked up at him. This was a real rock and a hard place situation. How was he going to allow a squatter to hang around his son all day? She needed to be dealt with and gone.
“Brock? Now you’re not being cool.” She intervened. “Your father and I have to have a grownup talk. I told you I have to work. Friends don’t make friends do what they want. They listen to them and understand that they may have other things they need to do. You said you’d obey your father’s wishes if he didn’t use his mean voice. He’s agreed.” She stole a look at Asher, and his heart flipped. She had him behaving like a school boy with that pure, unique charm of hers. “Now, please, off you go.” She added, “Do this for me, my friend.”
Without another word, Brock turned and left. Asher watched until Brock was back inside the main house and the door closed behind him. He’d heard her moving around behind him. If she tried to escape through the French doors leading out to the back deck, he was sure with his dragon quickness he’d be able to catch her in time. That assurance established, Asher took his time preparing to face her again. With Brock gone and no more time left to stall, he turned back around to find she’d put on a lightweight zipper hoodie.
Damn.
She’d placed those spectacular breasts behind a covering. He had to be honest. That was for the best. It would only distract him from what he had to do. Reframing the situation like it was one of his business meetings and not a showdown with a woman who made him want to groan with want, Asher formed the best next statement he could and launched it.
“Care to tell me how you managed to get in here and live?”
7
Daryl
Talk about blunt. The ridiculously gorgeous huge man had come right out with it. She’d have to woman up and answer.
“Do you mind if I sit while I answer that?” she asked.
Big green eyes, the adult intense and complex version of Brock’s, stared down at her. He was tall, muscular, and spectacularly sexy. His thick black hair was messed about like he still had bed head. It took everything in her not to go to him and run her hand through it to fix, much like she’d done a few minutes ago with his son. This man made her so self-conscious, she trembled.
While he watched to make sure Brock obeyed and went back to their main house, she’d taken the opportunity to throw on the closest piece of clothing she could find. The sight of him made her body ache. The light sleep bra she wore under her skimpy tank had failed miserably at hiding how hard her nipples had gotten. The decent thing to do was to cover up and show him some respect in his guest house. She’d zipped the hoodie up to the neck in a pathetic attempt to hide how her body reacted to him. It was clearly too hot for the hoodie, but she’d played that off.
The confusion that confronted her in his expressive eyes when he’d turned around had thrown her off like she’d done something wrong. Being around him was throwing her into a tailspin. Her “don’t give a fuck” demeanor that she prided herself for was in serious jeopardy of fizzling out in a major way with him in the mix. Daryl pushed down the ache to want to please him. That wasn’t her, not by a long shot. Whatever this guilt she had about getting caught living in his guest house had to be quashed. The only people she wanted to please were her dad’s memory and herself. Everyone else could go fuck off.
Still, being near to him, her pussy itched and ached to be touched. She was turned on. The best thing for her would be to get this over, fast. The sooner she got away from Mr. Long Thick Dick—yeah, she’d peeped how generously blessed the man was—the better it would be for her freedom and continued virginal sexual status. Only a few times before had she ever felt like this with another person. And her secret crush on Omar Jones from college didn’t count. Unlike those guys, this man seemed to possess the power to make her do things—things she’d never considered before.
<
br /> Her panties were wet, and she needed the shield of the table to hide that little surprise too. How could she be so aroused by the man who was about to have her arrested? That was clear as the day was long. It was sick, her desire for him. He was here to get her out of his house, most likely before his real girlfriend showed up—Brock had said he hadn’t come with a woman up here—but seriously, look at him. There was no way a man this fine was going to be up here alone, without some female companionship for the entire summer. Nope, he hadn’t let his son know the plans.
And here she was throwing monkey wrenches in everything. The best way to mess up a man’s plans for some great sex hook ups was to have another woman hanging around. The writing was everywhere, she had to go, but where? Daryl still only had about three hundred dollars left. And, by the looks of it, her prototype was beyond repair. She’d have to start over, and that would take more time than she’d agreed to deliver a working commercial prototype. Yep, her first contract job looked like it was toast. Instead of putting up a fight to defend herself, all Daryl wanted to do was find a way to touch him before she had to leave. It was insane how badly she wanted to get close to him. She didn’t know this guy, and yet she was like a wanton woman from one of those old movies her dad used to love.
“Sure, please sit,” he said, pulling her back from the daydream of what it would feel like to touch those hard muscles that rippled across his body whenever he made the slightest move.
Plopping down ungracefully at the table in the dining area, she reached for her laptop. Positioning it as a barrier between them would give her the courage to have this talk. Daryl stole another quick look at the insanely hot grownup version of that cute little kid. This man was definitely his son’s father and more. She marveled at how he scratched the same side of his face when he sat down across from her at the table that had instantly become way too small now. His presence snuffed out everything else in the room so that her attention had nowhere to go but to him. Brock’s dad, the little guy, had said his name, but she couldn’t remember it now with how the hot, sexy, real-life version was throwing her mental circuitry into overload.
Dragon's Curvy Dilemma Page 6
