Dream Chaser (Dream Team #2) - Kristen Ashley Page 0,4
this by asking me out to dinner three times, and also getting up in my shit after a lap dance I gave that he witnessed because he was a guy, a guy who’d asked me out, a guy who was into me, a guy whose job (not a joke) was being a commando.
And last, he was a guy who was a Dom.
As for me, I was into him. I was into him in a way I’d had so many fantasies about him—ranging from the many ways he could order me to take to my knees and suck his cock to snuggling in front of the TV with him after a long day—that I’d lost count of the dizzying varieties these fantasies took on.
But I just couldn’t go there.
Maybe it was that my dad was a deadbeat, but he was also other things, like mentally abusive, serially breaking women’s hearts, when the spirit moved him (which was rare) demanding his fatherly rights (even though he was a deadbeat, which circled back to mentally abusive, and breaking women’s hearts) and generally just an asshole.
And my brother was an alcoholic deadbeat who was either clueless, in denial, or both.
And I’d had two semi-long-term boyfriends, both who, after I shared, didn’t “get” my “kink” and thought I was a loser who wanted to be abused, instead of a submissive, who needed to give over and allow someone to take care of me (or put in the work to try, and get their reward, I was kind of a brat).
Last, I’d had a really shitty Dom who took things too far and once completely ignored me saying my safe word (that had not been fun, in fact, it’d been terrifying when he shoved that scarf into my mouth after tying me up, so I was completely helpless, and not in a good way—exit said Bad Dom from my life).
So yeah.
Me: gun shy.
And Boone had given up, full stop. I knew this because he’d been seeing some other woman now for weeks.
I didn’t blame him.
Though part of me did.
Because honestly, he didn’t try that hard.
And sorry, not sorry, I was a girl who wanted to be won.
Like I said, put in the effort…
Get your reward.
It sucked and for some reason it hurt (a lot, too much, especially when logically, I knew I had no claim on the guy).
But he’d moved on.
So why was he there?
I knew one thing with the way he was right then uncrossing his arms, his shades locked on me, his hand going up, and his finger crooking at me.
No, two things.
One, I was in imminent danger of a highly inappropriate orgasm while standing on the sidewalk to an elementary school.
And two, he was not there playing bodyguard to some rich kid or because his new woman had kids he’d offered to drop off.
He was there for me.
Interesting.
I moved his way and felt a number of greedy eyes following me as I did.
When I got close, he pushed away from his badass car, straightened to his substantial height and tipped his chin down to look at me.
“Hey, what are you—?” I began.
“Your place,” he growled. “Now.”
And then I found myself standing there, blinking at him as he stalked around the hood of his car to the driver’s side.
He’d opened the door, but didn’t angle in, because I was still standing there.
“Now,” he ordered.
Only then did he angle in.
All right, I was going home anyway.
But…
Again…
What the hell?
And, more.
Did he know where I lived?
Apparently, he did, because he made his point I needed to get my ass to my place by making his engine roar (and again, imminent orgasm, mine and probably a dozen other moms’).
I hoofed it to my car, and once inside, glanced quickly at my reflection in the rearview mirror.
I’d pulled a brush through my hair because it wouldn’t do to have semi-slept-on, teased-out stripper hair when taking the kids to school.
But it was still a mass that was mostly a mess of honey-blonde flips and curls.
No makeup, and serious, I was such a makeup freak, even if I was living my dream of knocking down walls to create great rooms and grouting tile, I’d have makeup on.
I always had makeup on.
Gray oversized tee. Black skinny jeans with rips in the knees. Powder Valentino Rockstud slides.
In that moment, I wasn’t my normal edgy Ryn Jansen who (if I did say so myself, which I did) made Kendall Jenner look like a novice at putting together streetwear.