HUSKY Read online

  I’ve always kind of assumed my sex drive had never been installed. While I was on the reality show, my platonic, short-lived relationship seemed to confirm that. But maybe I just hadn’t met my type. Maybe I just hadn’t met Daws.

  Oh lord, if I’m not careful, he’s going to catch me mooning at him.

  He’s older, wiser and confident. Kind, too, for helping me at a moment’s notice. The women he dates are probably daring and bold. They likely know themselves, whereas I’m still finding out who I am. They probably take shots of tequila and wipe their mouths afterwards with their sleeves. It’s best if I keep my relationship with Daws professional so I don’t get crushed. I know what it feels like to be rejected, but I think it would hurt a lot worse coming from this man.

  “How do you want to get started?” Daws asks, those massive arms crossed over his equally massive chest.

  “Um…” I set down my satchel on one of the work tables and remove my coat. “I think, since I’m designing this line for you, I want to find out which materials appeal to you most.” I unbelt my coat and toss it over my satchel. Then I drop down on my knees and bend over, searching for the sample books in the cabinet underneath. It’s not until my hand closes around the book that I realize I’m probably flashing my ass at the man, thanks to the abbreviated length of my leather skirt. Normally this work space is full of naked models, so I wouldn’t think twice about someone seeing my panties, but I hear Daws’s intake of breath and the groan that follows, and God help me, I tilt my hips even more. Look. “Almost got it…”

  “Take your time.”

  My lips twitch. Fine, there’s nothing exciting about my paisley yellow, cotton thong, but his guttural rasp makes me feel like I’m wearing nothing. When I’ve stretched the moment long enough, I get to my feet again and attempt to keep my breathing even. He’s moved closer, close enough that I could reach out and touch him, his chest rising and falling faster than before.

  “Where do you want me?” he rumbles.

  In my apartment. Covered in whipped cream.

  “Uh, the couch,” I blurt, wondering who I’ve become. “Let’s get comfortable. I might have to sketch for a while once we know the direction we’re taking.”

  He nods, takes off his jacket and lays it down beside mine.

  We take seats beside each other on the couch and I open the fabric sample book, removing a few squares and setting it aside. “Okay, so…” I walk toward Daws on my knees and kneel beside him on the couch. He watches me approach like I’m carrying a grenade, but remains still as I settle in, my knees a quarter inch from his gigantic thigh. “I bet you grumble like a bear when you have to get dressed up, right? Maybe for a wedding or a…date?”

  “Don’t go on many dates,” he grunts.

  “You don’t? Why?”

  My surprise has him raising a brow. “You’ve got eyes, Nebraska.”

  I blink them. “I don’t understand.”

  “Come on now. We both know I’m a mean-looking son of a bitch. It tends to intimidate people. And I’m not as nice to everyone as I am…”

  “To me?”

  Another grunt.

  A legion of butterflies take flight in my chest.

  “What about you?” His blue eyes take on a dangerous glint, those thick fingers flexing where he rests them on his thighs. “I’m assuming you don’t date.”

  “Why?”

  “Dating implies you’ve gone out multiple times. But who would let you go? One date and you’d be engaged, unless the man was a goddamn idiot.”

  He practically shouts the last part at me. Is he upset? Maybe he doesn’t like talking about his love life? Or maybe he just wants to keep our relationship professional, too. In which case, I definitely shouldn’t be prying into his personal affairs. Still…I haven’t really talked to anyone about what happened on the reality show. Every time I bring it up to Jocelyn, she rolls her eyes and tells me to toughen up. “That’s nice of you to say,” I murmur. “I don’t date. I thought I would want to eventually, but I have a hard time figuring out someone’s intentions.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, there was one guy. A contestant on the reality show.” I swallow my embarrassment. “He pretended to be interested in me, but only so I’d share my design plans. It was obvious I was a frontrunner and he…used me for information. We never kissed or anything, but he bought me flowers and…ugh. Isn’t that humiliating?”

  “For him it is. Not you.” The sincerity in his tone has me glancing up and I know he really means what he said. He’s even mad on my behalf, that upper lip halfway to a snarl.

  I’m so mesmerized by this unique man that I speak without thinking. “Isn’t it funny that I have such a hard time trusting men now, but I trusted you right away?”

  His chest shudders. “You can trust me, Nebraska. I’ll never let you down.”

  Oh lord, I want to kiss him so bad. Would he welcome it?

  His lap is the Promised Land. I want to be cradled in it and have this man’s big arms wrap around me like a barrier from the rest of the world.

  Professional.

  You’re keeping it professional.

  Not to mention, the clock is ticking and I have a miracle to pull off.

  Shaking myself, I start sorting through the fabric squares in my lap. “As I was saying, I bet you hate dressing up.”

  “You’ve got me.”

  “What is your biggest complaint?”

  He rubs at his throat, as if imagining a tie wrapped around it. “Suits are uncomfortable.”

  “Where? In the arms?”

  “Yeah. Never found one that didn’t feel like a straightjacket.”

  I giggle and his gaze zips to my mouth. “I’m thinking of a way to be fashion-forward and unique, while striving for comfort. Wool is out. Not breathable enough. And a silk blend isn’t masculine enough for you.” I finger the square of jersey knit. “We’ll go with this and splash it up. Some interesting stitching along the lapel, but nothing flowery. Maybe a…gun barrel.”

  I realize that as I’ve been speaking, I’ve unconsciously moved closer to Daws and now my knees are pressed to the side of his thigh. “You’re really good at this,” he says, a line rippling in his cheek, his eyes resolutely forward. Those big hands rake up and down his thighs as if drying his palms and the air around us is close. Expectant.

  But maybe I’m just imagining it?

  “May I?” I ask, holding the square of jersey material up.

  “Anything you want, Parker.”

  Those four words, the gruff way he says my name, produce a slow tug between my legs. My breasts feel heavy, my nipples swollen. Needy. And all my reminders to stay professional can’t stop me from rubbing the square against his strong jaw, down his neck and into that forest of chest hair. “Do you like the way that feels?”

  His eyes are closed. “Yes.”

  Am I mistaken or did his hand edge toward my knee and stop?

  “Are you sure?” Apparently I’ve turned into a shameless hussy. “M-maybe we should unbutton your shirt a little further and make sure the jersey doesn’t irritate your stomach?”

  His eyes remain closed, but he shakes his head. “You don’t want to see that.”

  “I’m going to have to see it eventually.”

  The blue of his eyes is suddenly piercing mine.

  I stutter through an explanation. “I’m basically going to be sewing you into this suit, Daws. You’ll have to be pretty close to naked and…oh God, I should have told you that upfront.” I chew on my lip. “You’re not going to back out, are you?”

  “No, I just misunderstood.” He mutters something about wishful thinking under his breath. Then his blunt fingers move to the buttons of his shirt and start twisting them open, one by one. Reassured he isn’t going to desert me, I watch in breathless anticipation as he reveals the thick hill of his stomach, the whorl of hair around his belly button. There is extra weight there and I’ve never, ever wanted to rub my face in anything so badly. The downward trajectory of my gaze continues and—

  He’s erect.

  Not just erect, though.

  He’s bulging against his fly, stretching the limits of the denim.

  My own body reacts, turning me slick and hot, my skin flaming.

  It’s easy to see that his sex is abundant as the rest of him. How long has he been like this?

  “Wow,” I breathe. “I guess you really like the material.”

  4

  Daws

  Parker is a cock tease.

  I don’t even think she realizes it.

  But I know she bent over a lot longer than necessary when she knelt down to find that book. I know she liked me checking out her tight, young ass. Those lithe, parted thighs and the tight-looking pussy in between. Now she’s damn near in my lap, rubbing my hairy chest, leaning so close I can see the outlines of her hard nipples.

  I’ve got your number, Nebraska.

  She’s as sweet as they come, but this has to be an undiscovered kink. She has enticed the desperate, horny, heavy man into her web, now she’s going to torment him with her sexy body until he bursts. A little more of this torture and I’m going to come in my pants.

  Would she get off on that?

  Yeah, I bet she would.

  Bet she’d cream in that little yellow thong.

  I can’t be mad at her for teasing me, though. It’s obvious she’s innocently discovering this specific sexual preference minute by minute. Second by second. It’s not me that turns her on—it’s the game. And I have no choice but to let it play out. I couldn’t put distance between me and this little blonde wonder if I tried. She’s fucking gorgeous, talented, guileless. So if she wants to tickle my dick until the seed blasts out, that’s what she’s going to get.

  “Wow,” she says on an exhale. “I guess you really like the material.”

  This is the other thing. She makes me laugh. Makes my chest feel tight.

  I like her on top of wishing I could fuck her brains out.

  And love. Love is creeping in quickly and I can’t help it. When she looked up at me with her beautiful hazel eyes and told me she trusted me, I knew I’d protect her my whole life. If she lets me be around her in any capacity, I’ll take it like a grateful beggar.

  Cherish her. Keep her safe.

  I’ll be the one who caters to this naughty kink of hers, too.

  Make me miserable, baby. Do it. Flaunt that pussy until my balls give up the fight.

  “I should, um…take some measurements, so I can get started sketching.” Parker surprises me by bounding off the couch, turning a few nervous circles, and darting for a tape measure. “Would it be…uncomfortable? If I asked you to stand up?”

  If she’s going to pretend my discomfort isn’t exactly what she wants, I’ll play the game. “No.” Wincing at the unbelievable pressure in my cock, I stand up, forcing Parker to tilt her head back to keep eye contact. And our substantial size difference causes an unwelcome thought. “If I wanted to overpower you right now, it would be very easy, Parker. Don’t ever do something like this again. Do you understand me? You shouldn’t have brought me somewhere alone.”

  She’s already nodding. “I wouldn’t, Daws. I would only do this with you. I can’t explain how I knew it would be all right.”

  “It will be all right,” I say firmly. “It’ll always be all right with me. Just be careful, please, Nebraska. You’re special.”

  Her features soften and the tape measure unfurls, rolling out in a yellow line on the ground. “You’re special, too.”

  My goddamn heart is involved. There’s no denying it. This girl is going to rip me to shreds and I’m going to let her. I nod once, the knot in my jugular preventing me from speaking.

  Parker comes closer and starts measuring, returning each time to make a note in the margins of her sketchpad. She wraps the measure around my biceps, my chest, my waist, and while I just want to enjoy her nimble touch and her arms encircling me, my cock is pounding, demanding all of my attention. Her wildflower scent, the way she chews her lip, her soft exclamations over my mammoth measurements, have precome coating the head of my cock, have my abdomen in a pretzel.

  If I were a bad man, if she wasn’t such a fucking treasure, I would just drag her to the couch. Rip that skirt down her legs, unzip my pants and steal that virginity like a dirty thief. It would be over in five seconds, too, I’m so hard up for that pussy. No way I could last.

  No way.

  A couple of pumps, tops, and I’d come like a freight train.

  My thoughts take an even darker turn when Parker goes down on her knees in front of me, her wide, curious eyes traveling the length of my hard-on. “I, um…I have to measure your inseam,” she whispers, licking her lips.

  More teasing.

  And this is going to be the worst of it.

  I’ve been measured for a suit before and I know how close her hands are about to come to my balls. My upper lip starts to sweat as she stretches out the tape, inching closer on her knees, putting her in the perfect position to suck my dick. That’s what she wants me to be thinking about, isn’t it? That maybe, just maybe, I’ll get lucky and she’ll give it a kiss.

  I’d pay her.

  I’ve never even considered paying to get off before, but I’d pay Parker everything in my bank account for a hand job. I won’t cheapen her by making the offer, but I think it all the same. I think of how her little hand would look wrapped around my fat cock, how it would give three tugs and I’d come harder than I ever have in my life.

  Maybe if I paid her enough, she’d let me release on her tits.

  Oh fuck, don’t think of that. Do not.

  You’ll come.

  Parker slides the tape up my inner thigh and I hold my breath, letting it out on a ragged groan when her knuckles nudge my aching ball sack. “Sweet fucking Christ,” I choke out, perspiration sliding down my spine. “Hurry and finish.”

  I look down in time to watch her eyes glaze, her chest expands.

  Then she rubs her knuckles, twisting them on the underside of my balls.

  “I bet your suits are uncomfortable here, too,” she whispers, her tits quivering up and down. “You need so much room for these.”

  “Fuck!” I bark, gripping my dick to keep it from erupting. I have no choice but to dislodge her hand and truck it toward the bathroom. Or what I assume is the bathroom, anyway, just off the main design floor. As I push inside and elbow the door closed, I’m practically blind with the need to relieve the pressure in my johnson. There in the dark, enclosed space, I rip down my zipper and start to jerk off. Grunting, straining. I can’t help it. I can’t stop. I think of Parker on her knees, deep throating me…

  And then she walks into the bathroom. I belatedly realize I didn’t lock the door and there’s no pretending now. I’ve got my cock in my hand and I’m beating it in her honor.

  “Enough,” I grit out, miserable, trapped in the ache. “I can’t take any more.”

  She turns on the dim light and sucks in a breath, her cheeks flushing with pleasure.

  “Yeah.” I tilt my hips crudely. “You love seeing what your teasing did to me, don’t you?”

  “Teasing?” Parker echoes breathlessly, her brow knitting slightly. “I didn’t mean to.”

  Right. My laugh is humorless. Pained.

  She comes closer, hesitating about a foot away. “Can I…do anything to help?”

  Parker might be a cock tease, but she’s a merciful one. Thank God. “Let me see your tits,” I say, my tone unrecognizable. Hopeful and depraved all at once. “Please.”

  This perfect girl, she’s already unbuttoning her blouse, her eyes riveted on the dick I’m strangling in my grip. Tugging on shamefully. She pulls the sides of her top open, revealing a silky white bra, her breasts swelling over the cups. And that, Jesus…that is enough to make me come, but I hold off, because she’s even more generous than I hoped.

  She reaches back and unbuttons the bra. It loosens and falls to the ground.

  I start panting, my ball sack tightening ominously.

  They’re a work of art, just like the rest of her. High and full, tipped with rosy, puckered nipples. They’re the tits men bookmark on the internet so they can jack off looking at them over and over again. Young, succulent, out of my league tits. “Ah Jesus,” I groan, moisture beading once, twice, three times on the head of my cock. “Will you just tell me…how you wash them in the shower?”

  I know I’m pushing it here.

  She’s already given me more than enough, but I’m probably never going to get this chance again and I can’t stop myself from taking advantage.

  When she starts talking, I try to quiet my ragged breathing to hear. “I lather up my hands with my violet soap and…” She cups them, massaging gently. “I do this.”

  My back hits the wall, my hips jerking involuntarily. My hand is moving in a fucking blur now, rifling up and down my engorged dick and I can’t take my gaze off her methodical movements. She starts to sway her hips side to side, her lips parting, swollen, a whimper leaving her when she pinches her nipples. “Show me the ass now,” I say choppily, selfishly pushing it even further. “Please, you beautiful little thing. Just a peek.”

  Her excitement is palpable as she turns around.

  I expect her to lift the hem, show me just enough cheek to knock me off the cliff.

  I never expect her skirt to drop.

  And there she is, naked except for high heels and a thong—and I come all over the floor.

  My roar of agony, pleasure, relief is broken and animalistic. White ropes fire off from my tip. I try to control where they land, but there’s no controlling this orgasm. It’s alive, it’s got a mind of its own, because Parker caused it. I come and come until there’s a puddle on the floor, my eyes roaming desperately over the delicious crack of her ass, the taut slope of her cheeks, the side profile of her firm tits. I’ll never have it better than this.

  When I’m finally finished, I try to get myself together as quickly as possible. Breathing still labored, sweat dotting my brow, I zip back into my jeans. “Fuck, Parker. I’m…thank you.” I swallow with an effort. “You’re so goddamn beautiful—”