by T. R. Iyer
I ignored her and smiled when I saw my dad. My dad was a handsome man. He was tall with broad shoulders and short brown hair with brown eyes and fair skin. I looked like him and I loved it. His smile always took me back to when I was a little girl and he would read to me while I sat on his lap. All of that was gone. He was always flying somewhere nowadays.
“Dad!” I said walking to him.
He stood up as he smiled. “Hey, sweetie,” he said as he put his arms around me.
I suddenly had the urge to cry. I missed him so much. “I missed you,” I mumbled.
“Me too,” he said as he stroked my hair.
“Hannah, your father wants to eat,” my mom said sounding annoyed.
I let him go. “Sorry, Dad.”
He shook his head. “You okay?” he asked with a frown. His brown eyes studied my face as if trying to read what I had been up to for the past few months.
Oh if only he knew.
I nodded as we took our seats. “Yeah, I just missed you.”
He winked at me as he squeezed my hand. I hadn’t realized that Nick and his wife, Rachel, were also at the table.
“Hey.” Rachel smiled across the table from me.
I smiled at her. “Hey.”
I really liked Rachel. She was tall, with long blond hair, hazel eyes, and fair skin. She was not only beautiful but also modest and perfect for my brother. They had been married for about a year and they made the perfect couple. Literally, they were always all over the magazines as the perfect couple. Rachel was a fashion designer which was perfect because she fit right in with Nick’s business. I admired and wanted to be as good as her someday.
“How was school?” she asked as my mom and dad carried a conversation. I swear she cared more about me than my own mother.
“Good. I’m done for the semester,” I said as one of the maids served me pasta. “Thank you,” I told her. She smiled. My mom wasn’t exactly nice to the housemaids or to anyone who helped keep the house beautiful so I always tried to make up for it.
“What are we talking about?” Nick said looking at Rachel and me. Nick was the spitting image of my mom. They had the same nose, same blond hair, and blue eyes. Nick always kept himself groomed and he was always wearing suits; he fit right in with the bodyguards like camouflage.
Rachel rolled her eyes at him. “So nosy.”
He smiled as he leaned in and kissed her on the lips which earned him a glare from my mom who didn’t miss anything. No kissing at the table Nick!
I smiled at them. They always made me think that true love existed. Up to a few months ago, I thought I had found my true love but all I got was heartbreak instead. Another one added to the list. I was still in the stage where thinking about it still hurt. Thinking about him and everything that happened still made me want to crawl up in a ball and cry.
I never had luck when it came to relationships.
I fell too hard, too fast…and they ended just as fast.
I was starting to believe that maybe love wasn’t for me. Maybe I was meant to be alone.
At least I wouldn’t hurt that way.
If you enjoyed this sample, look for
My Possessive Bodyguard
on Amazon.
Prologue
“I’ve got a big dick, and you know what they say about big dicks?”
I shook my head. I really did not have a clue, nor did I even want to know. “They’re more enjoyable?”
“They need frequent milking. Care to help a man out and milk me?”
I pictured myself sitting on an upside down tin bucket, wearing pink rubber gloves and squeezing the udders of a milking cow. Major turn-off. “Sorry, I’m actually here with someone.”
“Oh?” he questioned. His dark brows dipped closer together as his brown eyes stared at me in question. “I don’t see anyone.”
Make a run for it.
I should have done just that. Unable to find Harvey who had obviously been picked up, leaving me high and dry, I instead, without thinking, reached out and grabbed hold of the arm of the guy passing by me. Too bad if he were in his fifties or more. It was too late to overthink as my palm rubbed the front of his chest. I smiled, leaning in. “Him…He was just grabbing us a drink.” Finally, I looked up with relief to see that he was younger and extremely handsome.
The man I was currently clinging to shot me an annoyed glare as if I had ruined his night. I could not tell if he was smiling, though, as his mouth was covered by a dark beard. “Pardon?”
“Weren’t you, babe? You grabbed us drinks, right?” I said, pleading silently with him to just go along. I noticed his hands were empty. My plan was failing. “Where are they?”
He was quiet for a moment, eyes directed on mine. I could tell that he was well into his thirties, possibly older. There was a hipster charm about him with that well-kept beard and pulled back hair. His blue eyes were burning holes through my head as he smiled back warmly. Thankfully, his body relaxed as his arm slid around my waist, resting his hand against the curve of my hip. “Yes. I was at the bar waiting.” His hand slid further down, taking the whole fake thing we were doing to another level as his hand cupped my ass and squeezed. “I, however, decided I’d rather go home and fuck.”
Now it was my turn to be caught off guard. “I’m sorry? What?”
“I said—” he made a point to speak louder over the music, as he leant in “—are you ready to go home and fuck?”
I almost choked on my breath. He was pushing it. Managing a smile, I glared at him, forgetting all about the horny milk bottle in front of us as I turned to face him. I raised a brow as my fingertips grazed over his crisp, white shirt, fondling with the button below his open collar. “But we just got here. I want to dance.” I did a little pout for extra annoyance. “Come and dance with me.”
He leant in, his warm breath blowing against my ear. I fought the urge to let out a throaty groan. “Dance on my cock.”
If my panties weren’t soaking wet already, they were now. “It’s my birthday. Buy me a drink then?”
He grinned, tilting his head towards the bar. “One drink for the birthday girl, coming right up. Was there anything else, pretty?”
“Oh, yeah. You owe me a new pair of panties.”
Chapter 1
“Oh my god!” I groaned against the crook of Griffin’s neck. My lips pressed against his skin as I opened my mouth and bit down lightly—and not in a good way.
Here I sat, straddling my man’s lap, practically grinding myself to an orgasm when his next-door neighbour walked in with the announcement that she needed more milk. His cock was rock solid, straining against my crotch. His long fingers dug against the curve of my ass, holding me in place and keeping me still, unable to move away.
How was I supposed to ignore this? She was in our kitchen at the opposite side of the living room where we were, oblivious to our usual midday fuck while the two boys were in school. This was supposed to be our time.
My bra was on the floor, tossed wherever the black lace material had landed, and my breasts, hidden by a thin, white tank top, was pressed against his chest. I could feel his heart beating steadily, showing me that he was not at all annoyed by our current situation. I wondered how often this had happened when we were not home, and yet he never seemed to mind.
God forbid that she ever walks in while I am on my knees, blowing him to heaven and back. I wondered if his heart would be so steady then. Would he look up, offer her a smile, and continue ramming his cock down my throat? I highly doubted it.
Nothing ever bothered him.
I, however, was very bothered.
A year ago, I thought I had hit the jackpot when Griffin and I met in the club, saving me from the creep bragging about his gigantic penis. He had brought me a drink, and we walked around the city. He spoke about architecture, showing me the buildings as we walked to my mother’s café on the corner of Bathurst Street, Sydney, where I then made us breakfast.
Breakfast led to maple syr
up being licked off my stomach as the undeniable pull between us became too much to handle. The next thing we knew, we were hot and heavy, ripping each other’s clothing off.
Fast forward to the day we moved in together, I found out that my new next-door neighbour was, in fact, his ex-fiancée and the mother of their fifteen-year-old twin sons, Toby and Mack. They were not my problem; the kids were great. It was her.
Slamming the stainless fridge door shut, she walked back towards the door with our milk and called out, “Thanks, Griffin. I’ll replace it soon for you.” There was no anger or jealousy in her tone. It was said as if they were best friends.
I eyed him, watching closely as he said back, “Thank you, Karen.”
As soon as I heard the door close, I mentally screamed, Fuck off, to her. She was not going to replace it. She never did.
“Now, where were we?” Griffin groaned, flexing upwards as his fingers dug deeper into my ass.
With a slight twitch of my neck, I squirmed from his hold and pried his hands from my ass, moving to a standing position. This so was not going to happen. “Kind of not in the mood anymore,” I said with a dissatisfied mumble as I bent and snatched up my bra from the light grey rug.
“What?” he asked with exasperation, reaching into his unzipped slacks and pulling out his stiff cock. “I’m rock hard.”
There was no denying he was hard. It was hard as steel, pointing upwards with a drizzle of clear pre-cum running down the side.
I just shrugged. “I’m not even wet. It’s like a desert.”
His lips twitched up into a smirk as he adjusted himself back in his pants. “That’s quite an image. I bet I could have you gushing like Niagara Falls in no time.”
I shook my head. This man was not getting the hint. “Take a cold shower. It’s not going to happen right now. You have to get back to work, anyway.”
“I’m the boss. Work can wait.”
Fair point.
He raised a brow. “Could you?” He nodded towards the bulge straining against his navy slacks. You could see the outline as it lay over his hip. Oh, how I wanted to run my hand up and down that thing, squeezing it tightly.
There was too much annoyance in my system to be in the mood for getting down and dirty, though. That was the last thing I wanted after his ex appeared. I was not about to get on my knees and suck him hard and empty when the idea of my teeth lashing down and biting him was too much temptation.
I picked up a red plush cushion and tossed it at him.
He let out a grunt and caught the next one I threw.
“Suck yourself off. I’m not putting out.”
“Pretty, don’t be like that.” He groaned, stretching himself out on the dark brown leather couch.
Eyeing him, I raised my brow and crossed my arms. I leant against the wall, shaking my head. “Griffin, would you like it if my ex was walking in uninvited and unannounced like that whenever he felt like it?”
His blue eyes darkened even more as he narrowed them. He raised a curious brow back. “You told me you didn’t have any ex-boyfriends.” His tone was flat.
“Not my point.” I wanted to keep my serious face, but I ended up fighting a smile as I sighed in frustration. I pushed off the white wall that connected the living room to the kitchen. “I don’t like her coming over here. We could have been naked and fucking.”
“We should be naked and fucking. Now get back over here.”
Blunt, as usual.
There was no sugarcoating anything with us. We were always open and honest. Well, most of the time. I stared at him, trying to sound serious. “I’ll put a sex ban on you.”
He mumbled with a scoff, “You wouldn’t last.”
“Do you really want to find out?” I was determined not to give in.
With a roll of his eyes, he stood and sighed loudly. “Ayla, she’s the mother of my children.” His hand came up and brushed through his hair. “Would you rather it be bad between us?”
“She lives next door.” This was a dead-end fight, the fight that never went anywhere—the same fight where he would always defend her and tell me I was being jealous and overreacting.
I was not. I just wanted him to see things from my point of view. He was being a coward and letting her walk all over him. How could he not see things from my point of view, that it made me very uncomfortable having her so close to us?
I turned my back on him, giving up, and made my way down to the bedroom.
His footsteps were close behind me. “It’s easier for the boys. They get to have both parents close by.” I went to close the door behind me with a grin as I glanced over my shoulder. He was only smiling back, a boyish grin on his face as he followed and blocked the door. “Is it that time of the month?”
“Why is that what all men assume?” I groaned. I could not be mad without him asking if I was on the red river week. Flopping down on our king-sized bed, I watched him walk in and groaned. “Tell her to go and buy her own fucking milk! She has enough money to do so since you pay for her living.”
“Anything else?” he asked, starting to undo his slacks again.
I raised my hips, tugging down my shorts and panties in one go. I kicked them to the floor as he stood at my feet, unbuttoning his white shirt one button at a time. “Tell her to stop coming over.”
Kneeling above and between my open thighs, he lifted my white tank, peeling it above my head and tossing it back behind him. He sighed. “You know she won’t listen to a word I say, right?”
“She still loves you; of course, she’ll listen,” I said through clenched teeth as I spread my legs further apart, watching his hand move down there.
“I don’t love her.” He assured me, pushing his index finger deep inside me. “Dry my ass. You’re soaked.”
“Of course, I am. Your dick is in my face.” Not quite, but almost. My head fell back on the pillow as another finger entered.
He curled them both. Fuck me. My eyes rolled as I relished in the pleasure.
He let out a groan of his own as I reached for his hot length, giving it a firm stroke. Flexing more into my palm as he hissed, he closed his eyes and tilted back his head. “Ayla. Christ!”
Coyly smiling, I eyed his naked and glorious as fuck body. He stood at six foot four, covered in tattoos and muscle, and had trimmed dark hair. I loved it. He was manly yet so beautiful to stare at. For thirty-seven, he took my breath away with his extremely handsome features—strong jaw line and piercing blue eyes. They were kind eyes, but when he was mad, you knew just by the way he stared. His eyes held an unseen emotion to most. I, however, got to experience it often. Just a look of dominance from them was enough to make me sink to my knees and take him in my mouth without him ever needing to say a single word. Still, he held a boyish grin that made him appear a lot younger than he actually looked.
His dark brown hair reached to his shoulder and was worn up most times. It suited him.
Think Jason Momoa, and you will get the gist of what I mean. Never did I think that I would be in love with a man who had long hair and a full-grown beard. He even had spacers in his ear. He had one, and it suited him. I hated them usually, but on him? Damn, I just loved this hipster, bad boy look he pulled off.
I was madly in love.
My mother called him the son of Brad Pitt and Jesus. He was completely beautiful.
“When did you last shave?” I asked, reaching out to cup his jaw. I parted my thighs, and he lowered himself on top of me more.
“Last night.” His words came out strangled as he pushed inside me.
My muscles tightened around him automatically as I savoured the moment. That first thrust. It was my favourite.
“You did it before in the shower.”
I could not help but giggle. “Not your balls. I meant this.” I tugged at his beard. “I haven’t seen you with a smooth face before.”
He just smirked, laying his full weight on top of my naked body and rubbing his chin against my forehead. “You don’t compla
in when I’m going down on you.”
No, I never complained about that.
Moaning as his thrusts went from nothing to hard, I clung to his shoulders. One of my legs went up over his hip as he pushed it back, and the other tightly curled around his thigh, keeping him close. My breasts bounced with each powerful jerk of his hips. When our eyes locked in on each other, his mouth came and crashed down against mine. Our tongues wound together, fighting for dominance as we each battled for control. I did it to wind him up, teasing him. It was not that I liked being in charge. I preferred him to take that control. It did it knowing he enjoyed the thrill of the chase.
Pulling my hips back, I gasped as he went deeper. “Griff…” My words were drowned out when my voice rasped with another throaty moan as his groin angled and hit me right where I needed it. My orgasm was coming on fast, and his was coming close.
“With me, pretty. I’m right there with you,” he said, grunting and spilling himself inside me as I tightened once more, erupting in shaking pleasure with him.
We had been together for seventeen months. You would assume we met normally, and I never told my parents about how we truly met that night—that we met in the club, I cooked breakfast, and then had sex on table three in the café, proceeding to spend the next two days hauled up together in a motel room. Instead, I said he came into the café and that things went from there—which was kind of true. He did stalk me for a couple of weeks until I finally agreed to go on an actual date with him. He had taken me to Quay Restaurant, with a view of Sydney Harbour. He may have that hipster charm about him, but nothing about him was low-key hipster.
Tracing my fingers over his chest, I stared at his artwork of black ink as I lay in the crook of his arm. I brushed my finger over my name that was written across his chest where his heart was beating steady. I had his name on the inside of my ring finger. Forever, we would be connected. His lips pressed to the top of my dark hair, and he exhaled. “What time is it?”
Reaching over his naked-as-the-day-he-was-born body, I found my phone on the bedside table and swiped the unlock screen. I groaned sleepily. “We got ten minutes. It’s well past lunch time.”