“Did someone hurt you? Was someone here again?” He reaches out to me, but doesn’t touch me. I appreciate his respect for my personal space and cautiously place my hands in his. When he pulls me in for a hug, I don’t resist. He lets me cry into his shirt until I am finally able to talk.
“No, I thought it would be okay,” I sob. “I shouldn’t freak out like this, it’s not even like they wrecked anything when they were here. I’m being a stupid girl.”
Zeke leads me to the couch. Once I am sitting down and starting to breathe more evenly, he steps into the kitchen, returning with a glass of water. “You’re not being stupid. It’s totally normal to be a bit apprehensive when you know someone has violated your personal space, whether they took anything or not. Now, get everything you think you’re going to need between now and Thursday when Dylan comes back. I get that this whole situation is strange for you, but he wasn’t trying to be a dick when he said he didn’t want you coming back here. Get your shit and let’s go.”
I stare blankly at Zeke, debating whether I want to remind him that he has no right to issue commands. I decide against it since he is here to help me, yet again, with no questions asked. I cock my head, not sure I want the answer to the question I decide to ask instead. “How did you get here so fast?”
Zeke crosses to the bay window, looking at something through the white sheer curtains. “Dylan asked me to keep tabs on you, make sure you were safe,” he admits without an ounce of remorse. “He figured you wouldn’t go to his place once he left, so I told him I’d camp out in my car and make sure nothing happened after you came home. Are you pissed?”
“I should be,” I grumble as I flop back on the couch. I know Dylan said he was going to do what he had to in order to make sure I was safe, but this is a bit much. Asking his best friend to follow me home and then stay in his car? What kind of man does something like that?
“But you’re not, right?” While posed as a question, I know it’s meant as a statement.
“Right.” I sit on the couch for a few more minutes before gathering enough clothes to get me through the week. Zeke waits patiently in the living room and makes sure I am safely in my car before walking down the street to where he parked his vehicle. When we get to Dylan’s building, I enter the security code and pull into Dylan’s parking stall, noticing Zeke pull in behind me before disappearing around the corner.
The phone on my desk rings, pulling me away from the transmission analysis that is due in four hours. It should have been completed over the weekend so I only had to double check my findings, but that plan was blown all to hell by my life imploding around me. Now, I am scrambling to complete the first draft and hoping like hell that I don’t miss anything.
“Tasha, there’s a delivery for you at the desk. Would you like me to bring it back to you when I go on break?” Millie is a sweet woman, always offering to hand-deliver our packages. At her age, she should really be content to sit behind the desk and know how much we all appreciate the efficiency with which she keeps the entire department running.
“No, that’s okay,” I say, standing to stretch my tense back and shoulders. “I need to get up and walk around a bit anyway. I’ll be up in a minute.” I hang up the phone and let my co-workers know I need to step away. Most departments at the health insurance company where I have worked for four years are stuffy and run according to rigid protocols. Despite being on a tight deadline to convert an entire insurance line to be in compliance with new federal mandates, we manage to work together to keep the atmosphere a bit more laid back.
As I approach the reception desk, I see a crystal vase overflowing with pink and lavender roses perched on the edge of the high counter. “Looks like someone’s going to have a great day,” I joke as I look behind the desk for my delivery.
Millie’s laugh is slightly gravelly, no doubt thanks to her decades-old smoking habit. “Sweetheart, those are for you.” She pushes the vase closer, plucking the card from the center of the bouquet. “You mean to tell me you don’t know who would have sent you such an expensive arrangement?”
I snatch the card from her fingers, curious to find out who would have done this. Dylan knows where I work, but I can’t see him sending flowers. Yes, we spent the weekend together and it was amazing, with a few exceptions, but that hardly warrants something like this. On the other hand, he is the only person I can think of who would make such a grand gesture.
I’m beginning to realize I underestimated you. Perhaps you aren’t so sweet and innocent after all… Can’t get you out of my head.
I glance up to see Millie eyeing me, waiting for me to tell her who I had received such a beautiful gift from. As far as everyone at work knows, I am newly single with no desire to get involved with anyone for a long time. “Secret admirer,” I say, shrugging. No way am I going to get into the complexity that surrounds my friendship with Dylan, if you can call it that.
“Honey,” Millie coos. “You need to find out who that man is and hold onto him for dear life. A man who will send you something so exquisite without even signing his name is worth hanging onto.” I give the elderly receptionist a quick hug and carry the arrangement back to my desk.
If concentrating on work was difficult before, it is futile with the pink and purple blooms crowding my already cluttered desk. Every time I see them out of the corner of my eye or catch a whiff of their heavenly scent, my mind wanders to Dylan. To Sunday morning. Surely, that’s what he means with his comment about me not being as sweet and innocent as he originally thought.
I wake early, unaccustomed to the morning sun flooding Dylan’s bedroom. I don’t need to look beneath the down comforter to know I am still naked from the waist down. My legs clench together as I remember the feel of Dylan’s strong fingers pumping in and out of my pussy, working me until I screamed his name. His firm tongue making long strokes through my fold, lapping up every drop of cream seeping from my body.
I drape my arm over his chiseled torso, inhaling deeply to commit his scent to memory. No matter how much he claims he is taking his time, I can’t shake the feeling that our time together is limited. Twice now, he’s had me in his bed, this time begging him to take me and he refused.
My hand slides over his hip. It is impossible to miss the absence of any clothing covering his body. Gently, I lift the comforter and the largest penis I have laid eyes on greets me. Granted, my experience is extremely limited, but I can’t imagine that inside of me. Surely, it would be a mind-blowing combination of pain and pleasure.
Cautiously, I place my hand over his semi-erect cock. It feels hard against my palm, yet the skin reminds me of soft velvet. Dylan was so good to me before exhaustion overtook me last night; I want to return the favor. I allow my fingers to curl around his thick girth, feeling the weight in my hand. Slowly, I caress from root to tip, dying to know how long I can continue before he stops me.
A low moan alerts me that Dylan is aware of and is enjoying his wakeup call. He seductively grinds his hips, thrusting in my grasp. I need to feel more. I am tempted to climb over his body, taking what I need. Feeling him inside of me will sate the long-neglected parts of my body, but I have to respect his wishes.
I kneel between his thighs, widening my own stance to spread his legs. My eyes fix on his as I dip my head, licking the first drops of pre-come from the tip of his cock. His eyes are heavy with lust as he fights the urge to throw his head back. “Baby, not going to last if you keep doing that,” he warns me.
“That’s the point,” I laugh, parting my lips and sucking his hard-as-steel member deep into my mouth. I reach between his thighs as my mouth continues to work his impressive length. His body jerks tight as my fingertips make contact with the delicate flesh at the base of his testicles. He begins pumping hard into my mouth and I feel his balls draw tight to his body. He really isn’t going to last much longer! I double my efforts, sucking him hard and deep, my throat now relaxed as my lips envelope him right to the hilt.
“Fuck, Precious,�
�� he groans as his fingers lace into my hair. I relax my body, allowing him to take control as he guides my head up and down, using my mouth for his pleasure. I moan as the tip of his cock once again taps against the back of my throat, encouraging him to pump faster into me. “Precious…can’t…take…much…more,” he groans in time with his thrusts. “Gonna come…”
I shake my head when he tries to pull out, wanting to taste every drop as he violently erupts with his orgasm. His body twitches beneath me as he comes down from the edge and pulls my body over his. “A man could get used to waking up like that,” he whispers, nipping at my neck…
“Earth to Tasha, anybody home in there?” I jerk my head around to see Mason, one of my closest co-workers rapping his knuckles against my desk.
“Sorry, have some stuff on my mind,” I say sheepishly. How long have I been out of it?
Always looking out for me, Mason hands me the completed analysis. “Too long. I looked over here about five minutes ago and it looked like you had checked out or something. You sure you’re okay?”
I wave him off, not ready for his prying nature. We joke with Mason that he must have been a woman in a former life because he is the biggest gossip in our building. “I’ll be fine. Thanks for this,” I say, tapping the printed report. “I owe you lunch.”
No longer facing the pressure of an important deadline I can’t meet, I tuck my phone into my pocket as I take my afternoon break. Dylan is probably up to his eyeballs with meetings, but that doesn’t mean I can’t send him a quick text message.
Me: Thanks for the flowers, they’re beautiful.
When the announcement came down from corporate that our department and two others were moving to a satellite office, there were many disgruntled employees. The main campus is an elaborate setup complete with cafeteria, on-site daycare, and wellness center. Over time, we found little gems to make the transition more bearable. My personal favorite is the tunnel leading under the causeway to a lakeshore park. It is the perfect place to sit and clear my head, even if the weather is turning colder.
Waves gently lapping against the rock banks lull me into a nearly meditative peace. I lean against the dock railing, trying to purge the thoughts of Dylan from my mind. As pleasant as they are, it is starting to affect my work and I can’t afford to make any mistakes right now. My phone pings and I pull it out of my pocket.
Dylan: Flowers?
I stare at the screen, wishing I could talk to him instead of typing messages back and forth. Is he kidding? If he didn’t send the flowers, who did? No, he has to be messing with my head; he’s the only person who would send something so extravagant.
Me: Very funny. Fine, if you want to play that way I’m not going to force you to admit they’re from you. Just know I love them.
It doesn’t take a minute before he replies.
Dylan: Precious, if I send you flowers, you’ll know they’re from me. I didn’t send them. Can you think of anyone else? Anyone whose eye you might have caught at work?
Me: No one.
This time, there is no text response. Instead, my phone rings. Noticing the time, I gather my empty water bottle and purse to head back to the office. “You seriously didn’t send them?” I ask, trying to stay calm. After Saturday night, I am more than a bit jumpy and don’t appreciate whatever is happening.
“No,” he bites out. “I’m going to call Zeke and have him stop by your office. What time are you done?”
“Four-thirty,” I sigh. “You really don’t need to do that. It’s not even two miles from here to your place.” When he gets home, we are going to have to have a serious conversation about his need to control and protect me. If I wanted to live with that, I could have stayed married to Nick.
“Not open for debate,” he states bluntly. “Zeke will pick you up. Bring the flowers with you so he can look into it. I’m going to see if I can get home by tomorrow when you get off work.”
“Um, okay,” I say, unsure how I am supposed to respond to that last bit of information. We aren’t a couple, he doesn’t need to check in with me on when he’ll be coming or going. “I guess I’ll see you then.”
“Tasha?”
“Yes, Dylan?” I swallow past the lump in my throat caused by the tender way my name rolls off his tongue. If he wasn’t quite so him, I could easily see myself falling in love with him.
“Mine.” That one short word ends our conversation. It doesn’t annoy me as much as it had when we first met. Instead, it feels like a reassurance that he won’t let anyone hurt me.
(Dylan)
The entire time I sit inside a stuffy conference room working on bringing an up and coming band to the area for multiple shows, all I can think about is the gentle curves of Tasha’s hips and how they filled out the jeans she wore on Friday. The way her corset pushed those supple tits up and together. But mostly, the innocence in her ice blue eyes refuses to leave my mind. Remembering the way she looks at me when her guard is down is enough to bring my cock to life. The sadness and fear that fills her eyes too much of the time makes me want to wrap my arms around her and tell her it will all be okay. And it will be as soon as I figure out who is trying to fuck with her head.
I can’t get to the airport fast enough after my meeting ends. Zeke promised me he wouldn’t leave Tasha alone and that he would look into the mysterious delivery, but it’s not enough. This is the first time I feel like I can’t leave an important task in Zeke’s hands. That thought pisses me off because it has nothing to do with my faith in Zeke and everything to do with the way Tasha is getting under my skin.
As usual for us, Zeke is leaning against the hood of my Barracuda when I make my way out of the terminal. I shake my head as he stands there talking to a gorgeous ginger, no doubt using the combination of my car and his good looks to talk the girl into hooking up with him later. He doesn’t need the car to seal the deal, with his shaggy, jet black hair and mysterious blue eyes. Hell, I’m a straight guy and even I’ve been taken aback by his looks a time or two.
Most of the time, I have no issue climbing into the driver’s seat while he makes a date, but today I have things to do. I want to get home before Tasha gets off work so I can make arrangements for the evening. Something she said to me last night has been bugging me, especially once I realized she’s right. In the middle of yet another rant about how there is no reason for me to have Zeke following her everywhere, she veered off course to remind me that we don’t even know one another. In her mind, we’re still strangers and what I’m doing for her isn’t the type of thing a person does for someone they don’t know. Tonight, I hope to start changing that because I’m sure as hell not going to stop taking care of her.
“Zeke, let’s roll,” I yell out the window as I give the horn a sharp tap. “Got shit to do. Get ginger’s number and get in the damn car or you’re taking a cab back downtown.”
When I walk through the front door, I can’t help but notice the subtle differences created by Tasha’s presence in my condo. Her empty coffee cup is sitting on the granite prep island in my kitchen, complete with a dried coffee ring. After rinsing the mug, I put it in the dishwasher and wipe up the dried droplets of creamer and coffee from the counter.
Because I rarely have company stay at my place, I don’t have a guest bedroom. Rather than sleep in my bed, I can tell by the rumpled pillow and the lightweight blanket dangling over the edge of the cushions that she’s been sleeping on the couch. The fact that she didn’t sleep in my bed while I was gone irritates me. It shouldn’t, given the fact that I’m actually an insanely private man who doesn’t like anyone in my space, but it does. I want her to feel comfortable here. I pick up the blanket, neatly folding it and putting it back in the hall closet where it belongs.
In the bathroom, it looks like the health and beauty section of Target exploded on the counter. For the life of me, I can’t figure out why she thinks she needs so much stuff since she looked amazing that morning we went to the football game and she had none of this junk. I
tidy the counter, wiping away a fine film I can only assume her hairspray left behind.
Under normal circumstances, my blood would have been boiling by the time I got back to my bedroom. I like having order in my life. I like everything pristine. Tasha, as much as I love having her here, is anything but pristine and tidy. But that doesn’t upset me. None of it does. In fact, it feels damn good cleaning up her messes because they remind me that she’s here.
I’m home for less than an hour before I hear a key in the front door. I put my laptop to the side and get out of bed, wanting to be the first thing Tasha sees when she walks in. Yes, it’s completely ridiculous, but Zeke told me on the drive over that she hasn’t been doing well while I’ve been gone. He waited until my plane landed in Wisconsin before telling me about the panic attack, assuming I would have been on the first flight home, new bookings be damned. He’s right.
“Hey, you’re home,” I say in a voice sweet enough to make me want to vomit. I take the grocery bags out of her hands and place them on the counter. She stands in the middle of the room staring at me, so I make my way back to her, pulling her in for a hug. “Everything okay?”
“You know this isn’t my home, right?” Her tone is defensive. In the few days I’ve been gone, Tasha seems to have done a damn fine job of reconstructing the walls I thought we were finally breaking through.
“So you keep saying. At the same time, a little birdie tells me you tried going to your place and he had to peel you off the kitchen floor.” I eye her suspiciously, waiting to see if she’s going to come clean with me. I wouldn’t blame her if she doesn’t because from what Zeke told me, it wasn’t a pretty scene. I know I wouldn’t be rushing to share that kind of vulnerability with others.
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