AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Not even supposed to think it.
Especially in the boss’s office.
But Mr. Sawyer seems cheerful suddenly. His thick lips stretching into a strange smile, his eyes a little glassy.
“He’s gonna work out fine,” he tells himself more than me.
“He’ll be our new doorman. And if there’s any trouble out front… Err. I mean, trouble near that bar of yours, he’s the man to sort it out. I mean, Jesus. Did you see the fucking size of the guy?” He asks.
“I sure did,” I sigh, bringing Sawyer back to the fact I’m still in his office.
I get the strong feeling he drinks way too much in here all day, spending a lot of the time talking aloud to himself.
“Well you’ve met him, so don’t be scared when you come back for your shift later and he’s here,” he says in a thicker voice.
He stands and leans on his desk with both hands, looking at the door.
Signaling our little meeting is over.
“And do something with yourself, will ya?” he whines again, shaking his head as I turn to leave.
Usually, that last comment would hurt me, but today? I feel like I’m walking on a cloud.
Cloud Dillion, but the closer I get to home the darker that cloud starts to turn.
And by the time I have to walk past my landlord’s apartment, I’m practically on tiptoes, but it’s no use.
The prick’s been waiting for me all morning, watching through his peephole.
“Ms. Sommers,” he slurs, throwing his front door wide open, making me jump for the second time today but for a very different reason.
I cringe, wondering if every middle-aged man is a slob who drinks this early in the day.
I bet Dillon doesn’t drink. He’s too fit and strong to be that weak for anything.
“Hi Mr. Moore,” I chime, trying to keep him in good humor.
He’s about the same size as my boss, but with less hair and no cigar. A stained tank top and even worse stained track pants with scrappy loafers in place of my boss’s cheap suit.
“Rent,” is the only word he says, scowling hard, and I know it’s useless to try and avoid this any longer.
“I’ll be paid up at the end of the next week, Mr. Moore. I promise,” I tell him, knowing I have to wait to get paid before I can pay him.
He shakes his head, mumbling something before his eyes open wider, angry.
“You’ve got two days, Sommers. Then I’m getting a pink slip and changing the locks,” he barks, almost losing his balance before slamming the door.
I jump again, cursing myself for coming back home so early, and hating it that I’m so damned jumpy today.
Lack of food and proper sleep will do that.
Staying up half the night worrying about rent and living off whatever they don’t throw out from the club at closing time isn’t the healthiest way to live either.
Two days? What am I gonna do?
It’ll be impossible to hold a fake smile for ten minutes let alone ten hours once my shift starts.
Even the prospect of being near Dillon, seeing him again. Even that feels like a stupid dream.
I’m more likely to come up with a month’s rent in two days as I am to have him take me over the back of a chair.
Okay, maybe the Dillon fantasy isn’t completely dead. I feel myself tingle and shivers run down my spine at the thought of the man being a little firm with me.
Picturing that huge bulge in his pants free and twitching as he guides it into my swollen sex.
There’s a spring in my step as I hurry to get to my apartment, the thought of Dillon taking me from behind is too much.
Leaning against my apartment door to close it, I feel my hands drift between my legs, with one hand moving up to my chest and circling my thick nipple.
I chew at my lip with my eyes closed, trying to imagine his huge hands over me.
But it’s useless.
Half-opening one eye, trying to recreate the magic I felt when he was in front of me, but I only see my own reflection in the only mirror in my apartment.
A full length mirror that’s part of the wall, showing me an unflattering version of myself that makes me groan instead of moan.
Who am I kidding?
Nobody wants this, let alone a super stud like Dillon.
And the cherry on top? In two days I’ll be homeless.
Throwing myself face down on the fold-out sofa bed, I do what any self-respecting girl would do in a crisis.
I bawl my eyes out until I fall asleep.
Chapter Four
Dillon
I’m used to the stares out in public.
It’s not every day a giant built like me walks past average sized folks.
But with a raging hard on as well?
Guess I should cover up my bulge, keep it G-rated or I’ll attract more than wide-eyed looks from old ladies and the odd wink from slightly built men.
