by Lisa Oliver
Jon snapped his teeth at the cringing man on the floor and then padded over to the elevator door, investigating the two piles of ash sitting there. Only when he was satisfied nothing was left of the men who tried to take him, did his massive bulk start to shrink. In less than a minute, he was back as the gorgeous Shepherd he’d always been.
Thank you. Dirk’s dragon gave a shimmy of delight as Dirk took his companion out for a meal; leaving a crying Celine in her suite and a flustered, but decidedly seething, father on the floor.
Chapter Eighteen
“Boy, I needed that, thank you.” Jon made sure he didn’t leave any drool on his chin and tucked his napkin beside his plate.
“It takes a lot of energy to shift into a creature far bigger than your human self,” Dirk agreed as he pushed his plate aside. After returning to his office for a spare set of clothes, Jon had taken Dirk to one of Raoul’s restaurants. As a personal friend of the owner, he knew he’d get a table even without a booking and despite the lateness of the hour. Now the plates were empty though; it was time to talk.
“Did you mean what you said about returning to New York?” Jon wasn’t sure how he felt about uprooting his life, but he knew his first duty was always to be by Dirk’s side.
“I think I should.” Dirk picked up his coffee cup, sniffed it and then put it back down. “There’s something still not right with this whole set up,” he said leaning across the table so only Jon could hear. “My father has, by his own accounts, a huge hoard so, the Ahlberg dowry should be nothing more than chump change. Then there’s this business with pushing the marriage between me and Celine. We’ve had lifetimes of arranged marriages in our family and the Ahlbergs are probably the same; but they’ve never been forced. If either party doesn’t want to go through with it, they discuss it like adults and the pair announce their decision and that’s the end of it. Sure, there might be a bit of pressure behind closed doors to make them change their mind, but if the couple are adamantly against it, then the matter is dropped.”
“Celine still wants the marriage, although at least we know why now,” Jon said drily. “Will that be a problem?”
“Celine doesn’t feel anything for me. She just terrified of what will happen to her if news gets out she’s had a half-breed child. I’m thinking we might offer to give the child a home, if she agrees to give the child up, of course. If you didn’t mind children.”
Considering Jon spent the afternoon mentally trying to work out how he could make that happen, all he could do was grin like a loon. “I love children,” he managed when he realized Dirk wanted a formal answer. “Celine’s baby may be dragon, wolf, or half and half, and none of that bothers me.” He had another thought. “I won’t allow the baby to be a pawn though. We’d have to be married and the contract signing the baby over would have to be ironclad for both of us. I won’t keep any mother away from her child if she wants to have access, but I won’t have that poor baby used as a means for Celine to get what she wants. At the moment, she wants you and that’s not going to happen.” Maybe he was still channeling some of Dirk’s dragon, but Jon wanted his point made perfectly clear.
“I do love it when your practical side comes through,” Dirk laughed and pulled out his wallet.
Jon reached over and grabbed Dirk’s tie, pulling their faces together. “I’ve lived with threats to our mating all afternoon and we’ve barely been together twenty-four hours,” he growled softly, watching as an approaching waiter suddenly did an about turn. “If you need a reminder of who you belong too, then get that bill paid quick, so we can get home and I’ll reclaim you all over again.”
Dirk searched his eyes, must have realized Jon was deadly serious, and threw some money on the table. As he stood, Jon could plainly see his mate’s cock stretching the front of his pants. Trying to keep his inner smirk from showing, Jon sauntered out of the restaurant, watching the flex of Dirk’s ass. If he’d been in his dog form, his tail would be wagging.
/~/~/~/~/
“Jon? Oh, god, let me get the door closed first.” Dirk dropped the keys to Jon’s house on the floor as Jon attacked his belt and lips at the same time. Dirk could understand his mate’s frustration. While he was struggling to remember his life before Jon’s existence, it was impossible to think of it now. Had it really only been twenty-four hours? Logically, he knew their claiming was in its infancy, but with all that had happened, it felt like a lifetime.
“Gods, Jon, what you do to me.” He groaned as Jon attacked his neck, little nips, licks, and frantic suction that was bound to leave marks. A firm hand wrapped itself around his dick and he realized his pants were around his knees. “Jon, please.”
“You would have married her,” Jon snarled as Dirk’s shirt was ripped open – buttons pinging on the ground. “Three weeks ago, she was all you could think about. From now on, I’ll make damn sure you only think about me.”
Dirk banged his head on the door as Jon latched onto his nipple. He wanted to explain; to tell Jon that Celine meant nothing more than a scheduled business meeting that would have ended up with him married. They would have gone through the ceremony, which was more for the family’s benefits than theirs, they would have retired to a bedchamber and Dirk would have proceeded to do his duty so their dragons could bond, but there would have been nothing else. Definitely none of the feelings Jon was dragging from his body would have been evident in that union.
Jon’s mouth scorched his flesh as his mate fell to his knees. Fisting his hands, Dirk refrained from grabbing his mate’s face and forcing his dick into that willing mouth. But he wouldn’t. Somewhere on an instinctual level, he knew Jon needed this control. While he’d far rather have Jon leaning over the couch he could make out in his peripheral vision, he accepted, for now, that this was Jon’s show.
Falling on his cock like a starving man, Jon’s growls teased his ears as he slobbered, sucked, and nibbled up and down Dirk’s length. His balls already tightening, Dirk ran equations through his head, not that it made any difference. Jon wasn’t asking for his spunk, he was demanding it. With a half roar, combined with something suspiciously like a whimper, Dirk thrust and sagged against the door as his knees went weak.
“Enough, enough,” he whispered, pulling Jon to his feet. Still half hard, his cock gleamed under the hall light, slick with Jon’s saliva and remnants of come.
“You’re mine,” Jon growled, urgently seeking his mouth again. As he tasted himself on Jon’s tongue, Dirk realized his dragon was right. Jon still wasn’t sure; wasn’t confident in their union and Dirk’s father and Celine hadn’t helped increase his confidence.
There was only one thing to do. Cupping his hands under Jon’s butt, Dirk hoisted Jon off his feet, shuffling them both towards the couch he’d noted; taking care not to trip on the pants still caught around his legs. As soon as Jon came up for air, he swung his mate around, placing him over the couch, just as he’d imagined.
“Lube in my pocket,” Jon panted, shucking his pants to his knees and holding out the small packet. Must have been a Boy Scout, Dirk thought as he got to work ensuring most of the contents of the small package made it inside his mate’s tight hole. Jon was visibly trembling and Dirk moved fast; his own cock quickly rising to full hardness for the second time in the face of Jon’s eagerness.
Jon groaned as Dirk lined up and, hesitating just a moment, he slammed home. The heat and grip around his cock was almost painful and Dirk leaned over his mate’s back, twisting the man’s head around and taking another sloppy kiss. Jon was trying to move, but Dirk held his hips firm. Frantic was one thing, but Dirk would not hurt his mate.
“Please,” Jon whispered against his lips. In the same breath, Jon’s body loosened its killer grip on his cock and Dirk gently started thrusting. Back and forth, nothing heavy. He just wanted to enjoy their connection.
“You are perfect for me,” he muttered against Jon’s ear. “Strong, resourceful, powerful in your own right. When your body takes me like this, I can’t t
hink of anything else but you.”
“Then get used to doing this often,” Jon thrust back, his motions hard and jerky. “You can do better than this. Show me what you’re made of, damn it.”
Dirk did one better. Sliding his hand around Jon’s rigid length, Dirk quickened his thrusts, pushing Jon’s cock through his hand. Having already come once, his own need had lessened somewhat. But Jon’s ass was crafted with him in mind, and that perfect pressure, combined with the scent of Jon’s need, his urgent grunts and long moans as Dirk’s cock brushed against his prostate; the slick coating Dirk’s fingers, shit. Even the trickle of sweat running down Jon’s temple was sexy. Dirk felt his orgasm blossom in the pit of his belly as he licked it.
His thrusts got harder; the sounds of their coupling now accompanied by the couch legs squeaking against the floor. A quick brush of his hand against Jon’s balls let him know his mate was close. With his free hand, Dirk ripped Jon’s shirt from his throat and buried his teeth in his mating mark; his spunk pulsing from his cock, coating Jon’s inside. Jon shuddered and moaned and warm stickiness coated Dirk’s fingers. Locking his knees, Dirk hung on, savoring the sensation for as long as he could.
“You are mine,” he whispered once his teeth were finally free of Jon’s skin. “You are mine and I won’t ever let you forget it.”
“So long as you know you’re mine, too,” Jon muttered, pulling Dirk down onto the couch. “Hold me.”
Dirk didn’t need to be told twice. With the smell of their sex fresh in his nose, and his cock still held hostage by Jon’s body, Dirk closed his eyes. Just five minutes and then I’ll get a cloth.
Chapter Nineteen
The financial district of Manhattan was filled with sky-scrapers, bustling frowning people, and a range of smells strong enough to give Jon a headache. Not that he was expected to walk the streets, of course. Dirk’s imposing black town car was waiting for them at the airport and then again when they left Dirk’s oversized apartment. Jon’s inner snark wondered if Dirk ever did anything for himself, given the range of people who’d fallen over themselves to attract his mate’s attention since they flew into J.F.K. airport.
It was no better when they got to Dirk’s Office. From the outside, it had a discreet entrance; the type only old money could achieve. Nothing but a brass plaque on the door and the two sturdy security guards just inside the door indicated the wealth represented. That all changed once they took the elevator, private, to the penthouse office.
Deep red carpet, thick enough for Jon’s boots to sink into; graphically carved wood panels graced the walls. A large, imposing reception desk barred the entrance to Dirk’s office but the chair in front of it was empty. Dirk frowned as he noticed, but he carried on through to his inner sanctum. Apart from greeting the guards on his arrival, he hadn’t said a word; the harsh set of his shoulders warning off the most sickening of sycophants. But Jon noticed the widening eyes and whispered comments from suit-clad underlings who disappeared down long corridors and into quiet offices. It seemed Dirk’s arrival caused quite a stir, which caused Jon to wonder just what had been discussed around the water cooler.
“I was hoping Bryce would be here,” Dirk said as he ushered Jon into the office. “I need to know what the hell’s been going on in my absence and who….” He broke off as someone knocked forcefully on the door.
“Or maybe, someone’s come to tell you all about it already.” Jon took a seat in the corner behind Dirk’s desk. “I’ll text Bryce, you answer the door. It’s okay, I’ll be quiet,” he added with a grin.
“Just please try not to take offense at anything that might be said. I have no idea what shit my family has been spreading in here,” Dirk sat behind his desk and called for whoever it was to enter.
“Byron,” he greeted the newcomer who strode into the office as though he owned it. Dragon, Jon noted. Suppressed dragon. Someone else who’d pissed off his animal half and if looks were any indication, Byron was family. Not as tall as Dirk, not half as imposing, but Byron had similar bone structure to his mate and the same surly attitude.
“I can’t believe you came back here,” Byron snarled, slamming the office door. “After your thing attacked father, I’m amazed you dared to show your face,” he waved his arm in Jon’s direction; something Jon ignored. He was busy on his phone.
“Jon, meet Byron Hollingsworth, my younger brother. Byron, this is Jon Erskine, my mate.” Jon waved a hand but didn’t look up. Byron wasn’t about to play nice so Jon didn’t see the point in trying. He was grinning at Bryce’s text. Is grumpy bum ready to grovel yet?
I think so. You’re needed at the office, Jon replied.
Just grabbing coffee. Be there in five. Jon wasn’t surprised Bryce followed them to New York. He knew the bond between Dirk and Bryce was solid, even if Dirk could act like an ass at times. He’d been gutted leaving Essie behind, although she was still managing his office in San Jose.
“He can’t even be bothered to acknowledge me,” Byron raged. “I am on the board of directors in this company and I insist he be barred from this building.”
“I’m sorry.” Jon stood and slipped his phone in his pocket. The scale over his heart burned under his shirt as he flexed his shoulders. “Was I meant to acknowledge your insulting behavior? I thought I was doing you a favor by ignoring it.”
“You attacked my father.” If looks could kill, Jon would be six feet under.
Jon moved over to stand by Dirk’s desk. “Are you referring to the incident where I protected myself when your father sent two goons to kill me? I seem to recall he left our meeting shaken but unharmed, which is more than I can say about you if you don’t back down.” He leaned against the desk, crossing his arms. Self-entitled guys like Byron were a dime a dozen in his business and he’d never backed down yet.
“Did you hear that? He’s threatening me now.” Byron glared at his brother. “You can’t have him here. Either he goes, or I go.”
Dirk didn’t even bother to stand up. He simply pointed at the door. “You know the routine. Make sure your things are out of the building within the hour. Leave your passkey and files in your office. You won’t be needing the company car, so leave the keys for that, too. Take only your personal possessions; make sure they are all cleared out. You won’t be allowed back. You need to be out of Manhattan by nightfall.”
“I’m family.” Byron’s mouth flapped like a fish. “You can’t do this. I’m on the board. You can’t fire me.”
“As owner of this company, I can fire whoever the hell I want,” Dirk explained calmly. “And you must have a very short memory because you weren’t fired. You quit because you object to my mate’s presence. Now apologize to Jon, or get out.”
Jon wouldn’t smirk. That would be petty, but watching Byron struggle; trying to work out how serious his brother was, was amusing.
There was a quick knock at the door and Bryce came in. “Not interrupting, am I? Jon.” He opened his arms. “I see our illustrious leader has managed to drag you away from sunny California. It’s good to see you.”
Byron turned, interrupting Bryce’s welcome. “You were with Dirk on his trip. We heard Dirk was extremely ill; so bad a doctor had been called. Tell me, has that same doctor given him a clearance to return to work? I’m concerned about his mental competence.”
Dirk growled, but it seemed Bryce didn’t let men like Byron bother him, either. “As you can see, Dirk is perfectly healthy,” Bryce came over to stand on the other side of Dirk’s desk. “Our boss fell ill because he refused his mating after he saw and scented Jon. Now they’ve worked out any little issues they might have had, he’s stronger than ever. I have the Griffin’s report if you want to see it. He agrees, now Dirk has claimed his fated mate, there will be no recurrence of the problem.”
“I don’t believe in this fated mate crap,” Byron turned back to Dirk. “Maybe you got too much sun in California. Maybe, as father said, you’ve been bewitched. I strongly suggest, on behalf of the board, that you
see one of our healers before you make any decisions impacting the company.”
“I am getting damn sick of people questioning my abilities,” Dirk growled. “Am I, or am I not, the oldest son?”
“Yes.” Byron didn’t look pleased about that and Jon wondered if he suffered from Middle Child Syndrome.
“Did father resign and hand over the company to me a year ago? For me to do with it as I wanted after the years I slaved in this place working my way up from the mail room?”
“Yes, but that was on the condition you’d marry a female dragon. Not drag some mutt in here and try and pass him off as a mate,” Byron said quickly.
“That marriage might have been implied around the dinner table but it’s not in my contract.” Dirk reached into his drawer and pulled out a thick document. “This is the contract I signed. Recognize it?” He ruffled through the pages. It was a hefty document. “It outlines my extensive responsibilities to the family, to the European branch, and to this company’s clients. It contains no mention of my personal life whatsoever, or who I will or will not marry. Note, there is also no termination clause and my contract will remain in effect until such time as I decide to retire, sell the company, or pass it on to my appointed heir when the time comes.” He pointed to the last page. “You signed this, as Father’s representative, along with the other members of the board. It’s ironclad and absolute.”
“But it does have a provision about an heir,” Byron said eagerly, coming forward and flicking through the pages. “There. ‘In continuance with family tradition’,” he read from the document, “’Dirk Hollingsworth, shall, at his discretion and not before the first fifty years from the date of this contract, pass on the mantle of company ownership to his legal heir.’ You’re not likely to have an heir with him.”