Heart of Hope: Books 1-4

by Williams, Ajme

  I shook my head. “It’s not your fault that you don’t find me attractive.”

  His brows narrowed. “I never said that.”

  I pursed my lips in annoyance. “You just said men can’t control their urges. If that’s true, it means you have no urges around me.”

  He stared at me for a long moment, and I had a feeling he was having a tug-of-war with himself.

  “I have an urge,” he finally said.

  “Don’t patronize me.” For some reason, his lying about it hurt me more than knowing I didn’t turn him on.

  “You don’t believe me?”

  “No.”

  Again, he stared at me like he was trying to decide his next move. Finally, he took my hand and pressed it over his groin. My eyes widened as I felt the steel length of his arousal. I slid my fingers around it to gauge its girth. I ran them along the length. Like everything else about Dylan, it was impressive.

  He hissed a breath. “See? Urge.”

  My gaze went to his eyes, which were now blazing. It made my body heat up to scorching. I felt like I’d die if he didn’t touch me.

  “I want to see you,” I said, my words coming out breathless.

  “Tessa …”

  I squeezed his dick hard, making him gasp.

  “I’m not asking for something you can’t give.”

  “You don’t know what you’re asking.” His voice was rough.

  “I do. I’m not naïve, just inexperienced. I want to learn. I want you to teach me.” I stroked his dick again, loving how it felt. I desperately wanted to see it. To touch it without the barrier of his jeans.

  “Ah, fuck, Tessa.”

  I’d never heard him use the f-word before, and the sound of it, gruff and desperate, made my pussy throb.

  I wouldn’t have thought of myself as being sexually brazen, so I wasn’t sure why I said, “I’ve had orgasms before. I think of you when I do.”

  “Jesus … you don’t play fair.” His breathing was harsh as he looked at me. I could see need in his dark eyes and it made me feel powerful.

  “I’m not playing, Dylan.” Taking a move from his book, I took his hand and put it over my breast. I gasped when his palm covered my sensitive nipple through my t-shirt and a wave of liquid desire washed through my body straight to my pussy. “I’m wet, too.”

  He growled as his fingers pinched my nipple. “We’re going to regret this.”

  I didn’t have a chance to deny it, because then his mouth captured mine. His kiss was hard, desperate, and all-consuming, sending a blaze of liquid heat through my veins. I gripped his head, wanting to stay like that forever. He tasted exactly like I thought he would, dark and sexy.

  His hands slid under my shirt, pulling it up. I yanked it off and tossed it aside as he undid the front clasp and freed my breasts.

  “Fuck.”

  I looked into his face, wondering if he was going to stop.

  His gaze lifted from my chest to my face. “You have amazing tits.”

  It was the nicest thing he could have said. But I didn’t have time to respond because his mouth was sucking on a nipple, and the most delicious sensations coursed through my body as his mouth tugged and sucked.

  I let out a gasp and held his head to my breast. I felt each suckle in my pussy and I wondered if I’d come just from that. How embarrassing that would be? To distract myself from the growing tension, I tugged at his shirt. He grabbed the back of his shirt over his head and yanked it off.

  I pressed my palms to the most perfect sculpted chest I’d ever seen. I flicked my tongue over a nipple, loving the way he hissed in response.

  “Tessa …”

  There was something in his voice that had me worried he was about to put the brakes on. To make sure he didn’t, I quickly undid the button of his jeans, yanked the zipper down, and ran my finger over the tip of his dick. The skin was velvety soft and damp.

  “Jesus,” he groaned. In a flurry of movement, we finished undressing, he pushed me back on the couch, and then his mouth was on my breasts again. I reached between us, wanting to touch him. To discover every long, thick inch of his dick.

  It was amazing how much my body responded to him. My pussy throbbed with wanting him inside it. My nipples were hard and aching. I’d been aroused before, but never like this. Never like I’d die if I didn’t come.

  “I want you,” I gasped as I tried to move my hips to meet his dick.

  He reached for the condom packet he’d tossed on the coffee table when he’d shucked his pants off. He tore the foil and rolled it on. I watched with fascination, wondering if he’d fit inside me.

  He knelt between my legs on the couch, putting one of my legs over the back of the couch and the other over his thigh.

  “Be sure, Tessa.”

  “I’m sure.” My hips instinctively lifted, needing contact with his body as sure as I needed my next breath.

  “I’m going to try to take it slow, but fucking hell, I’m dying here.”

  “Just do it.” God, please stop talking and fuck me already.

  “It might hurt,” he said as he ran the tip of his dick through my folds and brushed over my clit.

  I cried out. God if that felt so good, I could only imagine what it would be like when he was inside me. “Please, Dylan.” I squeezed my eyes shut as my body was ravaged by need.

  When he didn’t do anything, I opened my eyes. He looked down on me, and I was sure he was going to stop.

  “Tessa.”

  “Fuck me, Dylan.”

  He growled. “I’m going to hell for sure.” He pushed his dick inside me just a little bit, and I moaned as the sweetest sensations radiated from my pussy.

  “Yes … so good … more.” My pussy was screaming to have all of him.

  He withdrew and I was about to complain, when he pushed forward, this time sliding a little further until he hit a barrier. My body wanted this and at the same time resisted him.

  “You’re so fucking tight.” His eyes squeezed shut. He took in a couple of deep breaths. This was it. He was finally going to give me exactly what I’d wanted from the day I’d met him. His gaze met mine. I nodded, letting him know I wanted this. I wanted him.

  Then his eyes looked away, and my stomach clenched. He pulled out of me. “I’m sorry…I can’t.”

  1

  Tessa—Thursday, A Week Earlier

  “And then Little Bear hugged his mama bear.” I held up the picture book showing the last page of the story. The group of twenty-two enraptured kindergarten students looked up at me from where they sat on the floor. My year as a student teacher was nearly over. While I liked the fact that I was halfway done with my Masters in Teaching program, I was going to miss seeing these little faces every day.

  “I hug my mama,” little Sara Larson said.

  “Me too,” several other students chimed in.

  I looked at Maisie Hyatt, the one student in the class that didn’t have a mother. Well, she did, but her mother wasn’t involved in her life. Instead, she was raised by her father, who was the epitome of sexy single dad.

  “Ms. Bremer.”

  I looked up to where Mrs. Anderson called me. “Buses will be here shortly. Perhaps we can remind the students of our party tomorrow.”

  I nodded. As Mrs. Anderson’s student teacher, she’d given me a lot of rein to teach the class, but sometimes I got so involved, I lost track of time. “Mrs. Anderson reminded me that tomorrow is the last day of school.”

  “Will you be our teacher next year?” Marie Caster asked.

  “I don’t know who your teacher will be, but I know you’ll all be fantastic first graders.” The children beamed, and I marveled at how innocent and open they were. A little praise went a long way for kids this age. Plus, they were eager to learn.

  I finished talking to the kids and then sent them by small groups to get their things and line up for the buses. Mrs. Anderson walked them to the loading area while I stayed behind to clean up the class and get it ready fo
r tomorrow.

  Maisie Hyatt sat at her table coloring as I wiped down the other tables. She always stayed with me after school because I was the one who took her home and babysat until her father got home from work.

  “Can we make cookies for tomorrow still?” she asked me.

  “Absolutely,” I said. “What do you want? Chocolate chip? Or we can make brownies.”

  She looked up at me. “I don’t think I’ve had brownies. Are they good?”

  I thought her father, Dylan Hyatt, was a wonderful father, but he was a bit strict with the yum yums. There were no sweets in the house, and Maisie was only allowed to have them on special occasions.

  “Delicious. We’ll pick up the ingredients on the way home.” I’d made cookies with Maisie before, but Dylan always sent them home with me.

  When Mrs. Anderson returned to the class, I met with her as I usually did to review the day. I thought she was a wonderful teacher and I was so thrilled to have worked with her this year. I was disappointed that I wouldn’t be able to work with her next year, the last year of my masters in teaching program. I’d have another placement, assuming I could figure out how to pay for school. I had terrific parents, but Dad was a cop and Mom was a teacher, so my education funds were depleted during my undergraduate studies. I had taken a few student loans, but since I was planning on being a teacher, a job that didn’t pay well to begin with, I didn’t want to take out more. As a result, unless I got a new scholarship or won the lottery, I wouldn’t be able to afford my last year of school. I had this summer to figure out how to pay for it.

  When I was done meeting with Mrs. Anderson, I loaded Maisie into the old Volvo I bought at her father’s encouragement when he hired me to babysit Maisie after school and as needed.

  “The old Volvos are like tanks. I’ll feel better about you driving with Maisie in that over another car,” he’d said.

  My Volvo looked like a tired old box, but it ran well and insurance on it was low, so I didn’t complain. A man like Dylan, young, ridiculously handsome, and rich, should have been driving a sports car, but he drove an old Volvo too. He lived modestly, belying his wealth built from a chain of gyms and real estate investments.

  “That’s why my wife left,” he’d once told me. “She thinks I’m a miser. ‘Why have all that money if we can’t have fun with it?’ she’d said.”

  Personally, I could think of all sorts of ways to have fun with Dylan that didn’t require money. Sure, I was a virgin and had no experience in sex, but I’d read romance and erotica, and had a good imagination. I had fun for free many times alone in the bathtub or in my bed simply thinking about Dylan.

  Maisie and I stopped at the grocery store, where I bought all the ingredients for brownies and then I drove her home. I parked in my driveaway, which conveniently was next to Dylan’s driveway. I’d first met him last year when I and two of my college girlfriends rented the house next to his, which he also happened to own.

  “Brownies have sugar. My daddy won’t think they’re healthy,” Maisie said as she pulled a chair to the counter where I organized the ingredients.

  “These are for your party tomorrow, so I think it will be okay.”

  He’d never gotten upset at me for baking with her. He just didn’t want her to get too used to desserts. I respected his wishes, usually. In my mind, a little treat now and then wasn’t bad.

  We mixed and stirred, and in a few minutes we had our batter in the oven.

  “Can we play a game?” Maisie asked as I turned the oven timer on.

  “Yes. What do you want to play?” I looked down at her. She was the perfect mixture of her dad and mom. She had dark hair as they both did, her mom’s striking blue eyes, and Dylan’s wonderful smile. She was sweet like him too.

  I was all for women pursuing their dreams, but I couldn’t understand how Veronica, Dylan’s ex, could leave him and Maisie to be a model. She and Dylan seemed to get along all right. Twice in the last year, she’d been in New York with enough free time to visit with Maisie. I suspect she and Dylan engaged in a little horizontal play as well, but within a few days she was off to Rome or Paris or wherever models went, leaving a perfect man and child behind. If they were mine, I’d never leave.

  I shook my head free of those thoughts. They weren’t mine. They’d never be mine. I needed to figure out a way to stop my brain from sometimes drifting into fantasyland about them.

  “Candyland,” Maisie decided.

  “Fun! Why don’t you get it out and set it up on the dining table?” I smiled like it was the most fun idea ever, when in truth, I’d be happy to never play that game again. There was nothing wrong with it. For kindergarteners it was perfect, as it didn’t require reading or math. But I’d played that game so many times; not just with Maisie, but also with other children I babysat back home in Brooklyn where I grew up.

  “”Kay.” She rushed out of the kitchen toward her bedroom.

  While she got the game ready, I went through the refrigerator looking for what I’d make her for dinner. Dylan usually got home around seven, which was too late for Maisie to eat, so I made her dinner. Most times, I made enough for Dylan too. I figured it would give him more time to spend with Maisie in the evenings if he didn’t have to worry about feeding himself.

  We played a game of Candyland and then took the brownies out of the oven to cool. I was able to convince her to go out into the backyard to play instead of more Candyland. We played superheroes until she saved me from the evil bad guy, and then I went in to make her dinner while she played with craft dough.

  I was pulling roasted vegetables from the oven when the sound of the door opening and shutting echoed.

  “Daddy!” Maisie called out with excitement.

  “Hey, lazy Maisie.” His deep baritone voice reached me in the kitchen. I checked my watch. It was almost five thirty.

  I exited the kitchen. “You’re home early,” I said when I saw him. I’d been working for Dylan for nearly a year, so you’d think by now I’d be used to seeing him. But every time I took in his t-shirt pulled tight over his broad chest, the fine ass filling his jeans, not to mention the sizable mound under his zipper, I nearly swooned. When he’d smile at me while holding Maisie, I did swoon.

  “Yep. I have a new manager at the local gym, and my operations person for the company is back from maternity leave, so I should have some more time for this little peanut.” He lifted Maisie up and blew a raspberry on her belly.

  “Daddy.” She laughed, and the sound of it along with the scene was too sweet. I felt a bit like an intruder.

  “Dinner will be ready in ten minutes. Maisie, why don’t you set a place for your dad?”

  “”Kay.” She wriggled as he put her down and ran past me into the kitchen.

  “How was the day?” he asked me.

  “Good.”

  He sniffed the air. “I think I smell baked sugar.”

  I laughed. “Brownies. They’re for Maisie’s class party tomorrow for the last day of school. Will you be able to come?”

  Dylan was a hard worker, often putting in long days, but he never missed an activity of Maisie’s. “Absolutely.”

  Maisie rushed back into the room. “I got you the Mickey fork, Daddy.”

  “I love that guy,” he said with a wink to his daughter. He looked at me. “Why don’t you stay?”

  “Oh, it’s okay.” I waved his invite away even though I really wanted to stay.

  “It doesn’t feel right that you cook for us but don’t eat.”

  “Stay and eat,” Maisie said. “I’ll get you the Donald fork.” She ran past me into the kitchen again.

  “You can’t turn down the Donald fork,” he said with a smirk.

  “I guess I’ll stay then.” It was really pathetic how much I liked it whenever he’d ask me dine with them on nights like this. I felt like a dumb school girl wanting whatever crumbs of attention Dylan would throw my way.

  “Yay!” Maisie put the fork on the table. “Daddy, we played
Candyland and I drew this picture. It’s of Little Bear and his mommy. His mommy lives with him, not like my mommy.”

  The spark in Dylan’s eyes dimmed. “Where’s Little Bear’s daddy?”

  “He’s …” Maisie’s brow furrowed. “Where is he, Tessa?”

  “That’s a good question. The book doesn’t say.”

  Dylan shook his head. “Dads don’t get enough attention in kids’ materials.”

  He was right, and I felt guilty that I hadn’t more actively sought out books with dads. “You should write one,” I said.

  “I’ll write one, Daddy.” Maisie grabbed her paper and crayons and started coloring.

  A few minutes later, we were at the table eating chicken and vegetables.

  “So, tomorrow is the last day of school. How does it feel, Mais?” he asked.

  “Good. After tomorrow I’m in first grade.” She held up her index finger.

  “You need to stop growing up so fast,” he said with a sweet smile at Maisie.

  “I can’t help it, Daddy.” She held her hands up in a shrug.

  “How about you, Tessa? What grade do you go into next year?” he asked, taking a bite of the vegetables.

  I gave a little shrug as I pushed my food around my plate. “Eighteenth? If I go.”

  “If?”

  “Eighteen!” Maisie’s eyes widened.

  I didn’t want to go into my financial woes. “Just need to secure tuition funds.” To avoid going into detail, I took a bite of my chicken.

  He frowned. “Is that a real problem?”

  I shook my head. “The problem is, what are Maisie and I going to do all summer?”

  “I want to go to the pool,” Maisie said.

  “So, you’re still good to watch her this summer?” Dylan watched me over the rim of his glass of water.

  I nodded. “Yes. Maisie and I are going to have a blast, aren’t we sweet pea?”

  “Yep.” Maisie chased a brussels sprout around her plate with her fork.

  After dinner, I offered to do the dishes while Dylan played Candyland with Maisie. When I was done, Dylan walked me to the door, and watched as I made my way next door to my house. He always watched to make sure I got home okay, a gesture that wasn’t needed, and yet I found it completely endearing.