Her Howling Harem 1: A reverse harem fantasy (Arianna's Story)

by Savannah Skye

  "Come on." I took Tyler to the changing table to clean him up and get him into a clean diaper, while Janet made a start on the wall. I wasn't sure which of us had drawn the short straw there, but tomorrow the roles might be reversed. You couldn’t work with kids without taking the rough with the smooth, or without developing a pretty high tolerance for poop over every surface. Of course, there was a downside to just doing what you wanted at every opportunity. But still, it looked like a pretty good way to live your life. Provided there was someone else to wipe the poop off the walls afterwards.

  By the time I had managed to manhandle the squirmy Tyler into a fresh diaper, located the rest of his clothes and persuaded him back into them, it was close to quitting time. Parents were starting to show up to claim children who begged for “Five more minutes!” to finish whatever made-up game they had embarked upon. Janet and I, along with the other two caregivers, Ruth and Valentina, helped bundle kids into hats, scarves and boots to protect them from the wintery chill. Lost mittens were tracked down, sweaters stretched over tiny heads, and toys pointedly taken and put to one side for “just long enough to get your coat on”.

  Much as I enjoyed my work, I was happy enough to see them go, it had been a long day, with the troublesome Tyler setting the seal on it. As more parents turned up, I tried to make myself a little more presentable following my cross-country assault course on the tail of the budding conceptual artist. There again was that very human need to look the part in the presence of others. All these people had children. They all knew that looking presentable and handling kids did not go hand in hand, and yet I still felt the need to force my auburn hair back into the bun from which it had escaped.

  I was still glowing—men sweat, women glow—so much that my blouse was sticking to my back, but there wasn't much I could do about that, or about my still red face. I really needed to get a bit more exercise—when a three-year-old can out-run you and get you out of breath, then it's time to dig out that long-forgotten gym membership. But not tonight. It was Friday night, which meant that there was no school for me this evening and that the pile of studying on my desk could wait until the weekend.

  The first order of tonight was a long, relaxing bath with a tall, relaxing glass of wine, closely followed by an evening in front of the TV with friends and more wine. When I was younger that would have sounded like a pretty tame Friday night, but at the grand old age of twenty-four it was about as wild as a night gets. I was looking forward to the Christmas break, when I might unleash what was left of my wild side for long enough to actually go out to a bar.

  "Doing anything this weekend?" asked Janet, as we watched over the leaving children, exchanging smiles and encouraging words with parents as they came and went.

  "Studying," I admitted.

  "You work too hard."

  "That degree isn't going to master itself."

  "Yeah, but doing it alongside this?" Janet indicated the quieting chaos of the room.

  "Well, if I want to eat, I have to work."

  Janet rolled her eyes. "I am aware of this. I'm just saying, there may be jobs which are better paid and less exhausting, which might be more suited to someone doing a degree on the side."

  Of course, she was right. I thought about telling her that doing a job in the childcare industry was an important part of my training and would count in my favor in the future—which was kind of true. But that wasn't the real reason I worked here. I loved working with kids. Perhaps that was a dumb reason to exhaust myself daily, but there it was.

  "Thanks for the advice, but I'm happy with things the way they are."

  Janet shook her head. "You're nuts, girl. I can't think of one good reason to work in a place like—” She broke off and let out a low whistle as her cheeks went pink. “Well, hello good reason."

  Janet's gaze had drifted away from my face and towards the door behind me, through which parents were still arriving and departing. I turned to see what she was looking at, and what Ruth and Valentina had now joined her in looking at.

  The man seemed to fill the room. Not just because he was tall, although he was; not just because his chunky sweater struggled to contain his broad chest—how could muscles be outlined in wool?— but because he carried with him an indefinable aura, a charisma that extended around him. Any room into which he walked, he would automatically be the center. It helped that he was perhaps the most handsome man I had seen—and based on the slack-jawed looks of the other girls, it was not just me.

  His hair was black and I looked for dark eyes to match, but instead my gaze was met by a pair of piercing green ones, almost cat-like in their intensity. As they lighted on me I felt my knees wobble, and surreptitiously steadied myself against a desk.

  For a moment, it felt as if all four women were in the starting blocks for the one hundred meter sprint. Janet was married, Ruth had a boyfriend and Valentina had an “understanding” with the man who delivered the kids' lunches every day, and yet this still seemed like a four-way race, and they would explain things to their partners at a later date. Fortunately for me, the man spoke before any of us could move.

  "Are one of you ladies Miss Maxwell? Eleanor Maxwell?"

  I was sure I had actually heard Janet whimper quietly when the man started to speak, in a voice that sounded as if it had been coated in dark chocolate. When he said my name, something happened inside me that didn't usually happen without inappropriate touching.

  "That's me!" My enthusiasm probably sounded a little over the top but I was rewarded with the man's face breaking into a smile that made his chiseled good looks even closer to sublime perfection. I could feel the quiet jealousy of the other three women burning holes in me as I strolled, as casually as I was currently able, towards the tall, dark stranger, feeling almost as if I was drawn by his eyes.

  "I'm Eleanor Maxwell. Ella. Call me Ella. What can I do to you? For you!" I blushed deep scarlet—no one can blush like a pale-skinned girl.

  "You were recommended to me. By Mrs. Miller," he added, just as I had started wondering what I might have been recommended for. "I want to offer you a job."

  Daisy Miller was a lovely child, one of the sweetest you could ask to meet, but she was also very shy, with an unfortunate habit of wetting herself around strangers. I had taken the girl on as my personal project and got her over this issue—it was nice to know that it had been appreciated.

  "She says you're great with kids," the man continued.

  "Kids. Yes," I said, with less articulacy than many of the Sunshine kids could manage. I tried to ignore the not very subtle giggling and whispering coming from behind me and made an effort to be more professional. "I'd definitely be interested." As long as I was still working with kids then I could cut back my hours at the center, assuming this would be better paid. "Would you like to come back to the office and discuss it?" As I finished, I allowed my eyes to do a surreptitious sweep of his hand—no wedding ring. Not that that mattered, of course, since this was all business, but still good to know.

  The man looked about him. "Looks like you're closing up for the evening and I don't want to rush through the details. There's a bar down the street, how about we discuss this over a drink?"

  However much my libido was calling the shots at this point, I was not stupid. I realized that going to a bar with a strange man was not a sensible thing to do. He could have been a serial killer. On the other hand, he had asked me in front of three giggling witnesses, the bar he was talking about was always busy, and he was very handsome. It had also been a long time since I'd been for a drink with a man, and even longer since I'd done any of the things that having a drink with a man was supposed to lead to. I was in the middle of a dry spell that made the Sahara look like Sea World, and I was standing here with the most attractive man I'd ever laid eyes on, who might just be willing to end it. My mind was no longer dwelling on what was the worst that could happen, and moved on to what might be the best. And from the looks of him, it would be The Best. For a moment, my though
ts took an incongruous turn back to earlier in the day; if you want something, then go for it. Live like a kid for once.

  "That sounds great."

  The man smiled, which was in itself enough to convince me that I'd made the right decision. Besides, I do need the money; my fridge is on the fritz.

  As I headed out with a man whose name I did not even know, I glanced back at Janet and saw her biting her knuckle, making me laugh. I wondered if Mr. Tall, Dark and Green-Eyed would be open to mixing business with pleasure. A girl could dream.

  Chapter Two

  MacClarens was the sort of bar that can be found in pretty much any town and city in America, a place where people go after work—most often on a Friday—to have drinks and unwind. I'd been there a few times with co-workers, I'd been there with friends, and I'd even had a couple of dates there. In all those previous visits I had never felt like this.

  It was quite something to walk into a bar and be the envy of every single woman in the room, and I couldn’t say I hated it. They were probably all wondering how I had scored the man sitting beside me, who had bought me a glass of wine and was removing his coat and sweater to reveal a tailored shirt that did even less to hide his sculpted physique. The only time I'd felt anything comparable was in tenth grade when I'd dated Jack Sanders, who could have had any girl he wanted but picked me. As it turned out, he had also picked three other girls, but for a while there it felt good to be the cool teen for once.

  "You still haven't told me your name," I began. My mother had warned me about having drinks with strangers, if I found out his name before I took a sip then I was probably still within the letter of the law. That said, the fact that I had dared go this far in complete mystery made a dark and seductive sensation well up within me, warming me from the inside out.

  "MacKenzie."

  "Pleased to meet you Mr. MacKenzie."

  A half smile tugged at his lips. "Just MacKenzie."

  Was that odd, that he had a single name, like Cher or Bono? Was that the sort of thing I should be worrying about? I found it hard to worry about anything when I was this close to him. The aura that had surrounded him when he entered the daycare center now felt like a heat, bathing him, making it hard for me to think straight. Could a man really have so much sex appeal that it radiated from him?

  "So, Eleanor—or Ella, wasn't it?"

  I wanted to say; “you can call me whatever you want”. But I settled for nodding.

  "Tell me about yourself, Ella. Start with the daycare center. How long have you been working there?"

  If there had been something more than work in his penetrating stare before, he seemed all business now. His questions were to the point, focusing on my schooling, training, experience and enthusiasm for working with children. I didn't mind answering them—they were on my favorite subject and I was here for a job—but I was beginning to wonder if I had misread the situation. Perhaps I had just been hoping there was more going on here and so had convinced myself. As time passed, it became less and less likely that he was going to sweep the glasses from the table and take me across it while the rest of the bar stared on in awe. Or even take me back to his place.

  As we were talking—or as I was talking and MacKenzie drank in my words, somehow making the act of listening quietly sexual—a band was setting up in the corner.

  "Ladies and gentlemen, please give a warm MacClarens' welcome to the Wild Rovers!"

  I loved a good pub band and the Wild Rovers were classic examples of the genre, erring just on the right side of cacophony, clattering through classic numbers with enthusiasm. They did, however, make it a little hard to carry out a job interview.

  "When I left…” I trailed off and cleared my throat, amping up my voice. “WHEN I LEFT SCHOOL, I—”

  MacKenzie held up a hand to stop me. "I don't think you're going to beat the band. Maybe we should put a pin in it for now.“

  Somehow, his soft, dark tones carried above the music without him having to raise his voice. He looked round at the band and then back to me, one eyebrow cocked in an expression of almost boyish mischief.

  "Do you feel like dancing?"

  I tried not to let my reaction show on my face, but it was hard when the question had me both terrified and giddy with excitement. “Sure.”

  I wasn't sure I could even stand, but I'd find a way. My hopes that this might be more than an interview cautiously began to rise again. Certainly this was the first job interview I'd had during which I'd been invited to dance—that had to mean something.

  Didn't it?

  If the other women in the bar had hated me before, that hatred reached a new level as I strolled out onto the makeshift dance floor and MacKenzie slung a confident arm about me.

  He moved like some sort of predatory animal; confident, strong and sinuous. His touch, even through my clothes, made electric shocks of sharp arousal fire through me, and when a creased up corner of my blouse allowed his finger to graze against the bare skin of my waist, I thought I might explode. The women around the room seemed to have given up hating me now, and had settled instead for naked jealousy, practically drooling into their drinks. And who could blame them? MacKenzie danced like he did everything; with quiet, sultry perfection. When I moved he was there with me, when I dipped he easily caught my weight in his strong arms, he spun me and I laughed for the sheer pleasure of it. It had been a long time since I could remember having this much fun. Then, as the music slowed, he drew me to him and I went, unresisting. My heart pounded with excitement in my chest, so hard that I was sure he'd be able to feel it against him. My nervousness made me clumsy and I trod on his toe.

  "Sorry," I muttered, embarrassed of being so inadequate next to him.

  But MacKenzie did not even seem to notice. "You have the bluest eyes."

  With the lightest of pressure he held me closer, so I felt I could count muscles in his abdomen as they moved against me. I tried to remember how long I had known this man, and what I was doing here with him, but all my good sense had melted away in the flame of the unbelievable attraction I felt for him. I wanted him.

  The band stopped for a break and we took our seats again. I was breathless with the exertion of dancing, with the nervous energy of first attraction and the hot desire fluttering in my chest.

  "How about a mojito?"

  "Sure." I couldn't have said no to that voice even if I had wanted to, and any reservations I might have had, had vanished one dance ago. Still, I managed to retain a veneer of this being about business. "By the way, I meant to ask; how many children would I be taking care of?"

  MacKenzie frowned at the question as if I had misunderstood the evening completely. "I don't have any children."

  This time, the hot flush that claimed my cheeks was nothing to do with arousal. No kids? Then what had all this been about? Unpleasant possibilities crowded in on me. I had accepted drinks from this man, what if one of them had been spiked?

  But then, why would he tell me what he just had if he had ill intentions?

  I shook my head. I was making excuses for him because I wanted him to be honest, I wanted this to be... something. I was more attracted to this man than I had been to anyone since Jack Sanders, the best looking boy in school. But, of course, that hadn't meant that he was a nice guy—Jack had turned out to be a scumbag. A handsome face didn't mean anything. So was I sitting here, desperately desiring a psychotic who was trying to hire me to look after his non-existent children for some ulterior reason? Or... Come to think of it, what was the other option?

  If this situation had occurred with any other man then I think I would have just run, but with MacKenzie I had to give him the right of reply, even if it was a dumb thing to do.

  "If you haven't got kids," I asked, cautiously, "then why do you want to hire me?"

  Mackenzie shrugged as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I'm looking for a mother for my children."

  I choked on my mojito, spitting it across the table into the face of the most hand
some man I'd ever met.

  Get the rest of Kidnapped by the Dragon Harem, out now and free in Kindle Unlimited!

  Other Books by Savannah Skye

  Her Demon Harem 1 (Succubus Chronicles)

  Her Demon Harem 2

  A Witch’s Harem

  Kidnapped by the Dragon Harem

  Her Howling Harem

  Her Vampire Harem

  Axe to Grind

  Breaking Colt

  Better to Eat You

  Hard Lesson

  Hard Sell

  Bad Boy Next Door

  Check out all Savannah’s books on her Amazon author page!

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  Copyright © 2017 by Savannah Skye

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