Bearly Mended (BBW Shifter Security Romance) (Big Paw Security Book 4)

by Becca Fanning

  Nope! Iyesha put a hand on his chest. “Hey, I’d love to, but I have to go to work now, so you have to leave.”

  “But you don’t have a job.”

  “Huh?”

  “You told me last night. You don’t have a job and your dad pays your rent,” Kyle said, wiping his eyes.

  Iyesha cursed her momentary onset of honesty. In vino veritas, as the Romans said. Summoning her best scared look, she grabbed Kyle by the arms. “You’re right, I don’t have a job. But my boyfriend is coming home.”

  Eyes widening, Kyle scrambled out of the bed. “Boyfriend? You said-“

  “Look I’m sure I said a lot of things but my boyfriend is coming home from third shift and his watch commander has been giving him hell recently.”

  “Your boyfriend is a cop?” Kyle shrieked, grabbing his jumble of clothes and making for the front door wearing nothing but socks.

  Iyesha heard her front door slam and footsteps going down the stairs. She barely registered a lady screaming outside her window a moment later. She stumbled to the bathroom and hovered over the toilet. She peed for what seemed like a half hour, even standing up to admire her handiwork. She drank from the faucet, using a cupped hand because no glass was in reach. Toothbrush in her mouth she ran back to her bedroom and pulled out her laptop.

  She tried to pull up the website for the airport, but her computer said she wasn’t connected to the internet. Goddamnit, Clarissa must’ve changed the password again. Picking up her phone, she dialed her neighbor.

  “Hi Iyesha,” Clarissa said.

  “Hey Clarissa, real quick, what’s the new password for your WiFi?” Iyesha said, poised over her keyboard.

  “I’m not giving that to you, Iyesha. Carmelo said we got a cease and desist letter because you downloaded something,” Clarissa said.

  “Your boyfriend is so full of shit Clarissa. Maybe he was downloading something he didn’t want you to know about, you ever think of that?”

  “I…uhh…no. Wait, what do you mean?”

  “Clarissa I need the password: it’s an emergency. I think my dog ate poison and I need to rush him to the vet,” Iyesha said. She felt a little bit guilty at this degree of manipulation and deceit, but she was trying to get a job. Clarissa would be devastated if she knew she was the reason I was forced to live off my parents for the rest of my life.

  “Oh no! Here, the password is Carmissa, it’s like if you put mine and Carme-“

  Iyesha hung up the phone as her computer joined the network. It’d be a few minutes before Clarissa realized she didn’t have a dog.

  DING!

  The bell over the gas station door rang as Iyesha made a beeline straight for the coolers in the back. She grabbed a purple bladder buster jug of sugar water, unscrewed the cap, and drank it down. The freezing air from the open cooler made her nipples stand up in her white tank top. She spun around and walked up to the cashier.

  “Just the drink?” the portly man asked her breasts.

  “Yes and…you asshole!” she said, covering herself in faux humility.

  The man tore his gaze from her perky breasts and looked down at his register. Sweat began to stain the armpits of his shirt.

  “I’m trying to support a small American business and you eye rape me like a piece of hamburger! I want to talk to your manager,” Iyesha said, hoping she still looked offended. There are so many pictures of my rack on the internet there are probably websites devoted to them. But this guy didn’t know that.

  “Look, you just take the drink and we’ll call it even,” the man said, still not making eye contact.

  “I’ll take the drink and eight gallons at pump 2,” she said, hoping she didn’t press her luck too hard.

  “Fine, whatever. Just get out of here!”

  Turning to leave, Iyesha grabbed a packet of breath mints and put them in her pocket. She glared at the gas attendant, daring him to say anything. He sat behind his bulletproof glass, the small hand motions below the counter indicating either scratching or masturbating.

  Back at the car, Iyesha pumped gas and looked at the sad state of her car. It had been brand new four years ago when her dad bought it for her, but it was in serious disrepair now. It didn’t help that the backseat was piled with clothing and trash. She was sure people in her neighborhood thought a homeless person must be living out of it. Somewhere in that heap of detritus was a nice professional outfit still in dry-cleaning bags.

  Done pumping gas, she got into her car and turned the ignition. Her dashboard lit up in red lights, all of which stayed on. She knew these were all things the car needed. One little picture was oil, another one looked like waves. I guess that means it needs water. As far as she was concerned, her car only had to get her to the airport, then she’d earn enough money to fix all the problems it had.

  Iyesha pulled up to the security station at the airport entrance. Her car had been making some new and alarming noises the last few miles, so she was relieved when saw the place off the highway. She realized that this would be the real test. If this whole thing had been one of her friends pranking her, this would be where it all falls apart. She’d give her name, the security drone would look at her blankly, her car would die, and she’d have to hitchhike via hand jobs back to the city.

  Iyesha took in a deep breath and rolled down her window. “Hi!” she exclaimed to the guard, as perky as could be. Maybe if this was a sham, he’d take pity on her and pay for a cab. It’s never too early to start being nice.

  “Hello little Missy, may I have your name?” the guard said, his minty aftershave arousing something in Iyesha.

  “Iyesha Barnes?” Iyesha asked. Good job, idiot. You sound like you don’t know your own name!

  The guard gave her an odd look and scanned his clipboard. Without saying anything he stood up and walked out of his security station. His hand went to his hip.

  He’s going to pepper spray me! She rolled up her window as fast as she could and floored it, expecting to blow through the gate. She was already trying to think of what she’d tell her dad with her one phone call from jail. Instead of launching forward, her car engine just groaned loudly. She glanced at her gearshift, and a bright green “P” shone back at her.

  The knock on her window scared her half to death. A confused security guard stood next to her car, trying to yell over her engine. She took her foot off the accelerator and cracked her window.

  “Ok, you’ll want to pull forward and make your way to hangar four. Leave this hanging from your rear view mirror,” he said as he pulled a small hanging tag from a hip pocket and slid it sideways through the tiny gap of open window.

  “Thank you!” Iyesha said, putting her car into drive and going through the opening gate. She arrived in front of hangar four shortly thereafter. She saw a few very expensive imported cars parked nearby and pulled up next to them. Looking at her watch, she let out a small moan. Eight minutes late already! I don’t even know where my clothes are! She spun out of the drivers side door and dove into the backseat. Empty soda bottles, club clothes and more than a few hamburger wrappers were tossed into the front seat. Reaching the seats and floor, she realized with dread that they must be in the trunk.

  The trunk. The thought alone depressed her. Long ago she’d started using the trunk as a way to forget things. Bad grades, bad friends, bad breakups. Anything she never wanted to see again was piled into the trunk. She remembered that a year ago it’d been so full she had to practically jump down onto the trunk to close it. She went to the front seat and pulled the trunk release.

  She turned towards the back and saw the gas cap popped open. Not now! She bent down to pull the correct release and closed the gas cap on her way to the back of the car. The smell was like old gym socks and the cologne an old boyfriend used to wear. She must’ve thrown a bottle of it back here with his stuff, where it likely cracked open and now permanently soiled her trunk.

  Looking down at the task before her, she drew inspiration from the Navy SEAL training docume
ntaries she would sometimes masturbate to. All those glistening muscular men who met any challenge head-on, no matter what. The one thing they didn’t do was quit. Come hell or high water, they had a mission and they did it or died.

  She lifted a large brown duffel bag from the top of the pile and lying right beneath it was a set of dry cleaner bags and a shoebox. She squealed in delight, thankful she didn’t actually have to dig through that dungeon of terrible life decisions. She pulled the dress and shoes out and closed the trunk. Looking around to make sure the coast was clear, she got into the back seat and wriggled out of her tank top and blue jean cutoff shorts.

  Iyesha tore open the dry-cleaning bags like a wild animal, pulling the dress over her head. It wouldn’t quite fit over her head though She had her head and arms inside the dress, but couldn’t go any further.

  “Lookin’ good ma,” came a relaxed voice from outside the car, followed by footsteps.

  Caught between fury and humiliation, Iyesha pulled her head from the dress after a few seconds and looked for the voyeur, but he was gone. She wanted to scream, but knew that would just take up more time she didn’t have. She solved the puzzle of her dress, unzipping it down the back enough to fit it down her body, then squeezed into the black leather pumps. These do NOT fit, but I’ve got nothing else besides the flip-flops I left the apartment in. Consigned to a weekend of miserable feet, she grabbed her clutch, closed and locked her doors, and walked towards the massive doors of hangar four.

  “And initial here,” Maxwell said, his finger jabbing down at the phonebook-sized contract on the table in front of Iyesha. Two gold rings and a thick gold bracelet accessorized his contract pointing hand. He was in his early fifties, his head more grey than black. He snatched the contract up as soon as she was done with the last initials.

  “And now, please hand over your cellphone,” Maxwell had a large brown envelope in his hand with Iyesha’s name on it.

  “You want my phone? No way,” she said, defiantly.

  “You won’t need it. You’ll be on a tropical island where you won’t get reception, and you’ve already signed a contract stating you wouldn’t take recordings or share anything that will happen with anyone,” Maxwell said, taking off his glasses and rubbing his red eyes. Iyesha wondered if he’d been doing too much blow or not enough that day.

  “Fine,” she conceded, taking her phone from her clutch and dropping it into the brown envelope.

  Maxwell sealed the envelope and placed it in a binder with her signed contract. “Now, seeing as how we’re already behind schedule,” he said, glancing at Iyesha, “lets get you on board and situated.”

  Iyesha got up from the table and turned to face the massive jet that had the hangar to itself. “Where is…” she began. Shit, I just signed a contract with my employer’s name and now I can’t remember it. She knew that when faced with long contracts, it was best to just glaze your eyes over and tune them out.

  “He’s on board already. He’s been ready to go for a while now,” Maxwell said curtly.

  “Oh…” Iyesha kept quiet as they ascended the portable stairs up into the aircraft. The lavish interior was like a penthouse suite. It had hardwood floors, leather couches and a movie theater screen at one end. A long mahogany bar ran along one side of the room she was in.

  “Just relax, make sure you attend to him, and have a good time. We’ll see you back here in a few days.” Maxwell leaned in and hit a button next to the door, then turned and walked back down the staircase. The opening slowly slid closed and locked. A brief hiss somewhere deep in the jet signaled that it was pressurized again.

  “Hello?” Iyesha called out. When no one answered she walked over to the bar and dropped off her clutch. She thought about making herself a drink to relax but thought better. First I need to find out who my boss is. She also just realized she didn’t see the other plane staff. Pilot, co-pilot, stewardesses…none were present.

  Iyesha made her way towards the back of the jet, passing through a hallway and an empty kitchen. At the very rear was a set of double doors, wide open. They led into a large bedroom, dark with a few lamps providing light. An open door to the side led to a bathroom, hints of marble flooring peaking out at her. Warm humid air came at her from there. Paintings hung on the walls. Old paintings. The kind Iyesha might remember if she’d ever paid attention in her elective art history class. A modern low-set bed with light blue satin sheets at the far end. A nightstand sat at one side, a heavy watch on it.

  She walked towards the bed and ran her fingers along the smooth sheets. She thought she should probably head to the front of the plane to find her employer and introduce herself. Some stodgy old lawyer or nerdy silicon valley type, probably.

  “Still looking’ good, ma.”

  Iyesha spun to face the other occupant in the room. Offset into a wall was a small tailor fitting station, with three sides of floor to ceiling mirrors and a spotlight angled down towards the man standing before her. Short curly black hair neatly topped his head, his blue eyes offset by his creamy skin. A big smile showed off perfect teeth, and a big diamond winked at her from one ear. He wore a custom fit white button down shirt and no pants.

  Holy shit! It’s Dragon! Iyesha couldn’t believe she was standing in front of the hottest rapper-turned-mogul on the planet. She’d remembered dancing to one of his songs the night before, some time before the margarita bowls. The memory of those made her stomach churn a little bit. She was determined not to vomit all over her new boss, so she got herself under control. She glanced down and saw the tip of Dragon’s cock swinging from below the end of his shirt. She couldn’t take her eyes off it. He must be ten inches!

  Dragon followed her eyes down to his member. “First time seeing one of these?” He chuckled and began putting on a pair of pants.

  “Nah, I’m not freaked out by a little dick,” Iyesha said.

  Dragon stopped what he was doing and addressed his manhood, “That’s the first time you’ve been called little.”

  “No! No, no, no! That’s not what I meant! I meant, some dick, not that your…Can we start over? It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dragon. Or Mr. Dragon?” Iyesha extended her hand towards Dragon, hoping to change the subject. “I’m Iyesha.”

  “Well, it definitely ain’t Mr. Dragon. You can call me Dragon or Mr. Cutler, whatever,” he said, zipping up his pants. He looked down at her hand and walked past her to his bed stand. He picked up the heavy watch and put it on, walking back to her.

  “I’m sorry if I came at you wrong when you were in your car,” Dragon said, pulling his sleeves down and buttoning his cufflinks. “But being half naked in your car in a parking lot…that’s some ratchet shit!” Dragon started laughing.

  “Yeah, yeah it was messed up,” Iyesha admitted, feeling better that Dragon was loosening up. I really thought I’d blown it for a second.

  “You want a drink?” Dragon asked, walking over to a small table along one wall. Without waiting for a reply, he poured a brown liquid from a crystal decanter into two glasses. Iyesha walked to him and accepted one of the glasses. They clinked and she took a sip. It went down like smooth heat.

  “This is…really good,” she said, finishing her glass. She put it down on the table and her fingers lingered there playfully. Her other hand went to her hip.

  “Yeah, that’s what thirteen thou’ a bottle tastes like. It’s a good cabinet cognac, but nothing for special occasions,” Dragon said, putting his empty glass next to hers. His fingers brushed against hers.

  The casual contact sent a little jolt through Iyesha. “Thirteen thousand a bottle!” She felt guilty that she’d probably drunk a week’s worth of pay without thinking about it. She looked up at Dragon and put her hand on his chest. She felt his hard chest through his shirt.

  “So, how shall I attend to you?” she asked, arching her mouth up to his. This is crazy, but there are worse things to be than a starfucker. He smelled of musk and vanilla. These scents swam around in Iyesha’s brain as his smile
got closer and he joined her kiss.