Bring Him Home

by Goode, Ella

  When he stops laughing, his eyes lock with mine. I want to get up and go drop myself in his lap again, but I hold back. As much as I want to be close to him I don’t care for the fact that when we are close he keeps moving me away from him. I know he’s attracted to me. I’ll just have to break him down a bit. Maybe make him give chase.

  When a ding sounds I hop up from the sofa. “I’ve got it,” I tell him. I’m all too happy to distract myself from the inner battle going on about me sitting in his lap. “It’s probably for me anyways,” I add. I make my way back to the door that we came in. Drake just sits in the chair staring at me as I walk to the door. I put an extra sway in my hips because I can almost guarantee he’s staring at my ass.

  The door opens into a small entryway that goes to the elevator. Drake’s place is the only home on this floor, I’m guessing. I’m not in the least bit shocked that he has an entire floor to himself. He looks and acts like he needs his space.

  Before he can stop me I’m pulling open the door, surprised to see a women a few years older than me standing there with a shocked look on her face. I know the person I talked to on the phone was a man. He found my suitcase and was more than helpful by saying he’d bring it to me. I explained that I wasn’t familiar with the city and he offered like a true gentleman to bring it to my door.

  I was really excited that someone had found my bag and was nice enough to go out of their way to get it to me. When I talked to him on the phone he asked for my address. I didn’t really know where I was so I’d shared my location with him on my phone. I told him that I was on the top floor. It was easy enough for me to take care of this situation. I wanted to call my Ma and tell her how wrong she was about me not being able to look out for myself and about the people that lived here. There are tons of nice people in the city and I found one that was willing to go out of his way to help me.

  I stare at the pretty blond woman standing in front of me with the still-shocked look on her face. It takes me a moment to put two and two together but finally my mind catches up and I get it. This must be his girlfriend. Of course he has one. I turn around to yell at Drake and run right into his solid chest. I’m seething with jealousy at the thought of him belonging to another woman. How am I going to live here? I forget for a second that my hands are resting on his chest. I drop them away quickly, not wanting to be disrespectful to his girlfriend. I step away and put as much distance between us as I can.

  “Don’t answer the door,” he grunts. He tries to grab on to me but I move farther from his grasp. My mind is racing and the urge to knee him in the balls is strong.

  “You have a girlfriend and you kissed me!” I shout, ignoring him. I’ll answer the door all I want, I think to myself. I refuse to agree with anything he is saying right now. He won’t have to worry about me answering his door anyways because I’ll be leaving as soon as my suitcase gets here.

  “You kissed her?” I hear the shock in the woman’s voice from behind me. The guilt comes over me then. I feel so bad that I kissed another woman's boyfriend. I didn’t just kiss him, I was having filthy thoughts every five seconds about all the other things that I wanted to do to him. I even weaseled my way into staying with him in an attempt to bring those fantasies to fruition.

  Why does his girlfriend have to be so pretty on top of it? Why do I even care, for that matter? This isn't her fault and of course he has a pretty girlfriend. I’m not sure why I would think that he had an ugly girlfriend with him being hotter than an iron that’s ready to brand. This new revelation stings and, more than anything, all of this hurts my heart. I feel like someone is reaching into my chest and squeezing it. Maybe Ma was right about me. My heart is way too easy to get at. I look away so no one will see the tears that I didn’t realize are streaming down my cheeks. I swipe at them, growing angry.

  The next thing I hear is a loud smack that fills the entryway and I feel a sting in my palm. “Ouch!” I scream, shaking my hand. I didn't know it would hurt so much to smack someone. How is Dad always doing that to Ma’s ass? I must have done it wrong. Drake doesn’t even flinch and my hand is now throbbing, so I definitely did something wrong. He just stands there looking as shocked as the rest of us now. His girlfriend made the loudest gasping noise that I have ever heard when my hand connected with his face.

  In the aftermath everyone goes quiet and I’m the first to speak. “Do you want to smack him too?” I turn to look at the pretty blonde, whose mouth is still hanging open. She shakes her head no. “Are you sure?” I ask again. She shakes her head no harder this time. “To each their own,” I tell her. “If I was in your shoes, though, I would smack the shit out of him and make him beg for forgiveness and still never forgive him. Make sure he buys you something that’s worth it. I’m sure you know that he’s very rich,” I toss out. “With his bragging and all,” I add for good measure.

  I jerk my head back to Drake and he suddenly wraps his hand around my wrist to stop me from shaking out my hand, which still stings. Of all the things that I thought he would do at this point, he does the last thing I expect him to. He brings my hand to his mouth and gently kisses my palm.

  I think back to when Ma used to kiss my hand when I had a boo-boo and I would play along, telling her it felt better. Her kiss never stopped it from hurting but I knew it made her feel good when I said it did. I don’t know if Drake’s mouth has magical powers, but when it brushes my palm it makes me forget everything else. I stand there in shock and I’m unable to move. Why is this asshole still kissing me with his girlfriend standing here?

  “Sir?” I hear the blonde speak, breaking the silence and reminding me what is going on. Wait—did she call him sir?

  Oh crap.

  I glance back to her and see that she has a stack of files in one hand and a crossbody bag that looks a little like a briefcase across her torso. I can tell she’s trying to hold back a smile.

  I’m starting to think I got the wrong idea. Maybe I shouldn’t answer the door anymore. I’m never going to admit that out loud though.

  6

  Drake

  I can still feel the sting on my face from where Delilah slapped me. It really shouldn’t have turned me on but the rock-hard cock that I am now sporting says different. I don’t know what I’m going to do with this little fireball. She is like a beautiful wild horse that needs to be tamed and I am going to be the one to do it. At this moment, though, all I can do is stare down at her in awe. I have never been struck by anyone and she smacked the shit out of my face. As if that wasn’t enough, she then proceeded to try and get someone else to join in and do it too.

  My poor assistant doesn’t know what to do with herself. I can only imagine the horror on her face right now. I’m so focused on Delilah that I can’t pull my eyes away to check. She’s probably a bundle of nerves waiting for me to react to what has taken place. No one has ever spoken to me in this manner in my life, let alone struck me on top of it.

  It wasn’t the smack that made me rock-fucking-hard but the jealousy that lit up in her eyes. This confirmed how much she‘s into me. She needs to know that she has nothing to worry about when it comes to my assistant. If you put a gun to my head and asked me what color eyes my assistant has I’d be a dead man. I respect Charlotte as my work colleague and I’ve never paid attention to anything other than the work she does.

  I can’t help the small smile on my face as I watch Delilah’s mind catch up to what is going on. Her cheeks are turning a little pink and embarrassment is written all over my girl’s face. She now fully realizes who the woman likely is. She should have never answered my door to begin with. She is already acting like she owns the place which means she’s comfortable here. That knowledge has me grinning inside. I would have moved faster to get the door if the sway of Delilah’s ass hadn’t put me in a momentary trance. It wasn't until she was pulling the damn door open that I realized what was happening. Usually my doorman doesn’t just let anyone come walking in and using the elevator. They have to be on the pre-approved
list in order to even get up to my door. I will be taking extra steps for security now that I hold something so rare in my grasp. I can’t take the chance of something happening to Delilah.

  I kiss the palm of her hand again to soothe it and calm her down. I didn’t like the sound of her scream when her hand connected with my face. Even though I should be the one in pain, the thought of her hand hurting had me reaching for her hand and caressing it. I couldn’t bear to see her in any sort of pain. The thought of her experiencing any cuts through me. This entire situation is making me realize that my girl is an act first and ask questions later kind of woman. I’m pretty sure she hadn’t realized what she was doing until she was done doing it.

  God, she is filled with so much passion she doesn’t know what to do with it half the time. It’s built up in her and is begging to get out. I’m sure that’s what pushed her to get on a plane and come to this big city to begin with. She needed a way to release that built-up passion and I am more than willing to be that for her.

  She can do it under me, over me, or any other way that includes me. I don’t give a fuck which way she does it as long as it includes her curvy little body pressed into mine. I want every drop of it for myself. I am going to be very selfish with her. If I had it my way, I would keep her locked up in this penthouse all to myself.

  There is no way Delilah will go for that. I need to figure out how I am going to keep her near me at all times but let her think she came up with the idea. If she thought that I was trying to control her, she would never go for it.

  My phone rings, breaking into my thoughts of how I am going to keep her close. I pull the phone out but keep my eyes on her sweet face, willing her to smile so that I can see her dimples again. I feel like I’ve been replaced with someone else. I can’t ever remember having these sorts of thoughts. What the hell is wrong with me?

  “Drake,” I say without looking to see who is calling.

  “Sir, there is a man down here asking to see a Delilah. Should I let him up, sir?” David the doorman asks.

  “What?” I bark out, making Delilah jump. She doesn’t get far since my hand is still wrapped around her small wrist.

  “He says his name is Dean Simpson,” David adds quickly. As if that will help my anger.

  “I don’t know a Dean,” I growl into my phone. Who is this fucker and how does he know my Delilah’s name? I am starting to see red and my patience is wearing razor thin.

  “Oh, Dean!” Delilah chirps. “Tell him I’ll be right down.” My hand on her wrist tightens, making her eyes snap there. She is going to need a lot of luck if she thinks she is getting anywhere without me attached to her. This may be one of the only times that my size isn’t getting in my way.

  “He says he has her suitcase that she lost.” David breaks the silence on the line and answers my unspoken question.

  “I’ll be down in a minute to get it,” I tell him, ending the call.

  “I can get it myself.” She tries to pull her wrist from my hold again. Out of the corner of my eye I see my assistant take a step back as if she’s trying to get out of the path of the rage that is about to come to the surface. Delilah's reaction is the opposite of my assistant’s. It is like a kitten was holding her wrist.

  “Fuck,” I grunt. I bend down and pick her up without any hesitation. I throw her tiny ass over my shoulder and storm back into my condo. There is no way Delilah is going downstairs to meet some strange asshole she doesn’t know. I’m seriously about to lose my shit on so many levels.

  “I’ll get the suitcase,” Charlotte shouts as the door closes on its own.

  “What are you doing?” Delilah wiggles in my hold. I slap her ass just like she slapped my face, giving her a taste of her own medicine.

  “Oh!” She lets out a small scream. She wiggles her pert ass again. She starts to speak again, her voice coming out breathy. I am expecting her to say something rude but her voice comes without any power behind it this time. “I hope that hurt your hand,” is all she manages to get out.

  I want to laugh but I’m so pissed I can’t find it in me to do it. I deposit her back onto the sofa and come down over her. The sofa doesn’t seem so big when I am on it with her. Her eyes go round and her breathing picks up when she realizes our position. Her hips thrust up of their own accord, trying to get closer to me. It’s like her body is on autopilot knowing what it wants even if her mind doesn’t.

  Her pussy is trying to get as close to me as possible and she doesn’t even realize she’s doing it. Just those little thrusts by her have me wanting to come in my pants. If I wasn’t so fucking pissed, I would give her what her pussy is obviously begging for.

  “How did he know where to bring your suitcase?” I ask her. I’m trying to stay focused and I know anger will help me do that. Did she give out her address so easily? “Baby, please tell me it’s the airport dropping it off and not some stranger who claims to have found the suitcase that you think you lost.” I say lost when I really want to say that it was stolen from her.

  This is one of the biggest scams in the city. People take advantage of tourists all the time, stealing their things and asking for money to return them. That is the best case scenario: sometimes they set up a meeting with the victim to give them their things back in good faith but then they rob them instead. My breathing is getting uneven thinking about what could have happened to Delilah if I wasn’t home.

  She licks those plump lips that are a normal shade again. The puffiness has gone down from our earlier mouth-fucking. “He found it for me,” she lets out in a cheery response. “I guess I just have really good luck,” she adds. She’s trying to convince herself because I’m not buying it and she knows it.

  My jaw tightens. “And how did he find you?” I grit out the question. My control is unraveling as the seconds pass. I’ve never had this happen to me. I am always in control. I guess I’ve just never had something to lose that I actually cared about before. Sure, there was money but I’m talking about another human being. I don’t really give a shit about anyone but myself and money I can replace.

  “My number is on the tag,” Delilah says like I’m an idiot. I’m not in the least bit shocked by this piece of information she tosses at me. Of course her number was on the tag. “He called saying that he found it.” She glances anywhere but at me. I can see the wheels finally turning in her head. She’s finally starting to put two and two together.

  “Finish telling me. How did he know where to take the suitcase?”

  Her eyes focus back on mine. I have a feeling what she’s going to say and I know I’m not going to like it. I brace myself for her answer but she just continues to stare at me with those eyes. Those beautiful eyes encased in those thick lashes just stare into mine and my anger begins to cool some.

  “I shared my location with him.” She bites her lip after she finally rushes the words out. I let out a string of curses, pushing myself off the sofa and away from her. I give her my back while I get myself under control. I have to clench my hands together so that I don’t punch a hole in the wall. The last thing I want to do is scare the shit out of her, but she needs to be scared. How the fuck did she think it was a good idea to give out her location to a fucking stranger like that?

  She has sealed her own fate with this act. I know now that she needs me. She is too innocent to roam and live in this city alone. This is what I kept telling myself. I am doing this for her own good and not just for my own selfish reasons. Her being mine is for the best. I will at least make sure no harm comes to her.

  When I turn around she’s sitting on the edge of the sofa with her hands in her lap. She’s wringing her fingers together. She looks shaken and nervous.

  “Phone,” I demand. I hold my hand out and wait for her to hand it to me. I think she is going to fight me on this but she reaches into her back pocket, pulling it out. I grab it and throw it right into the black stones that encase the fireplace. It shatters and I momentarily feel relief. I look back to her, waiting for her wr
ath, but she sits there looking up at me. I grab her hand and place it in mine, letting her know everything is going to be okay. She intertwines her fingers with mine. I think that it calms both of us as we sit there in silence for a moment.

  I move forward, knowing exactly what I can do to calm down. I reach out and caress her face. Her skin is the softest thing I’ve ever felt, reminding me of a rose petal. Unable to stop myself, I lean in, letting my mouth brush against hers in a kiss as soft as a whisper. It's only meant to calm us both down. She lets out a small whimper before she slides into my lap and wraps her arms around me tightly. She pushes her mouth against mine hard, like she’s seeking comfort from it. It's then I realize that she understands the depth of what she’s done. She starts to shake a little in my lap. I’m sure the thought of what could have happened has started to race through her mind. The kiss breaks off as she buries her face in my neck. I hold her tightly and stroke her back in an effort to ease her anxiety. Wanting her to know I’ve got her.

  “It’s fine,” I reassure her, letting my hand roam up and down her back. I remind myself that she’s a lot younger than me. She still has a lot to learn about life and people. I wish she didn’t have to learn about the real world but there is no stopping it. I want to try, though. Shield her from everything the best I can. She doesn’t have to know about all the things that go bump in the night when I can make sure they never get near her. I would do anything to keep the soft sweetness that clings to her, a rare trait that I know you don’t see in people anymore. Is it so wrong of me to want her to live and see the world through rose-colored glasses? I know I can have all the crazy thoughts that I want, but Delilah is never going to let me keep her in a bubble.