Just Right!

Published by EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ® at Smashwords

www.evernightpublishing.com

Copyright© 2019 DawnMarie Richards

ISBN: 978-0-3695-0003-8

Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

Editor: Karyn White

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

DEDICATION

To my husband, for more than thirty years of happy Just Right!

JUST RIGHT!

DawnMarie Richards

Copyright © 2019

Chapter One

Heart pounding, she raced against the fading light, her breath coming in great gasps. All at once, the root strewn path transformed, a blanket of bluebells springing up beneath her feet. Their delicate perfume calmed her frantic nerves, her steps slowing. Up ahead, a tiny cabin appeared, a curlicue of smoke rising from its chimney, the warm glow from the windows beckoning. Shifting the broad, wooden handle of the hamper she carried from the crook of one elbow to the other, she couldn’t help but think what a relief it would be to rest in front of a crackling fire.

She wandered closer, but a nearby rustling gave her pause. Narrowing her eyes, she spied three large creatures emerging from the tree line. Moonlight reflected off their shaggy brown fur as they lumbered toward her. In her shock, the basket slipped from her arm, tea cakes and finger sandwiches spilling about her feet. The beasts lifted their heads and huffed the air. Rising onto their hind legs, they roared, their vexation echoing off the surrounding mountains. She clutched her hands to her chest only to realize she stood naked, utterly defenseless against the bellowing brutes.

Surely, they would charge, their claws ripping tender flowers from the earth before sinking into her flesh, tearing her asunder. But instead of terror, an odd excitement built low in her belly, her nipples growing tight beneath her palms. It was then she noticed. Between the bears’ great muscled thighs, in the place where furred genitalia should have been, human cocks hung, smooth and straining.

Christa Locke woke with a start, angling up onto her elbows. What the fuck? But before she could even begin to formulate a response, her head throbbed in protest. Oh, right. She moaned, lifting a hand to press thumb and forefinger tight to her temples. Tequila.

She sank back down onto the bed, her groan cut short by a quiet gasp as unmistakably expensive sheets whispered over her bare skin. Holy shit! She’d actually done it! Gotten stupid drunk and convinced some poor sap into taking her home with him.

Frantically, she searched her memories, but only managed a jumble of disjointed snippets … bodies pressing in on her … laughter … shots lined up on a bar … a slight sense of unease … male voices raised over pounding club music … a massive palm, tender against her cheek … nodding off as bands of light scrolled over her eyelids. Nothing complete, no clear idea of what—or more importantly, who—she’d done last night.

Biting her lower lip, she reached out, tentatively mining the fine linen. But she found nothing. Not even a wrinkled depression where a man’s body might have been.

With a sigh, she rolled onto her side. Hands tucked beneath her cheek, she pulled her knees tight to her chest. How could I have let this happen? It had been six months, for heaven’s sake! Yet a single insignificant sighting of her ex had been enough to send her careening off the deep end. Well, not exactly insignificant, she allowed, remembering the events of the previous morning.

She’d just lifted her head from fishing her phone out of her purse when she’d noticed them. A striking couple huddled together about a half a dozen people in front of her. The man had his back to her, but she could see he was tall and broad-shouldered, his hair thick and tousled. The woman nearly matched him in height, blonde with porcelain skin, her clear blue eyes trained adoringly on her lover’s face. They’d spoken to one another in low tones punctuated by throaty chuckles. The corners of Christa’s mouth had begun to twitch with an indulgent grin when the man had turned and made eye contact.

Lips curled with a chilling grin, Brandon had kept his gaze on Christa’s as he’d slid his hand down the other woman’s back and then cupped her ass. He’d pulled her close for a kiss more foreplay than affection, several of the people around them shifting uncomfortably. A few had looked away.

Of course, Christa had had no such luxury, continuing to stare even after he’d broken off the kiss and leaned forward to whisper into the woman’s ear. He hadn’t finished before the blonde whipped around, long hair flying. She’d searched the crowd, her flawless features twisting with a peculiar mix of disgust and pity the second she’d sighted Christa.

Mortification had lent Christa the strength she’d needed to finally break eye contact, though her heart raced out of control. And then she’d done the only thing she could think of… She’d tucked tail and run.

Caffeine-deprived and dispirited, she’d wandered in the direction of her office building. Her mind was consumed, endlessly obsessing over the minutia of the ill-fated encounter. At least until realization had struck, bringing her to a faltering halt in the middle of the bustling sidewalk. For the last three years, she’d started every workday at that coffee shop. Something Brandon knew damn well. Fate had had nothing to do with it. He’d meant for her to see … to know … to hurt.

With the pain had come a measure of clarity. And over the next several moments, Christa had—for the first time—seen their relationship clearly. Whatever they’d had together, love had played no part in it. Brandon was a predator of the worst order. He’d fed on her weakness. A commodity she had in abundance. And he’d used it to control her, mold her to his liking.

But a crack had appeared in the thin veneer she’d managed to lacquer over what he’d termed her unseemly side. And she’d been rejected. Banished, not only from the upscale condominium she’d spent the better part of two years transforming from a sterile showplace into a home, but from a social circle in which she’d been entirely invested. He’d left her with nothing, but, apparently, it had been too much. He’d had to take it a step further and make certain she knew he’d found a woman who deserved everything he had to offer. Horrified, she’d wondered if he’d somehow known she’d been spending her nights on her girlfriend, Lana’s, couch, mourning a life for which she’d never had any right to hope.

A flash of recall interrupted Christa’s unhappy reminiscing. She’d wanted a couple of drinks. And she and Lana had managed to snag the last two seats at the crowded bar. And there had been a man, sitting next to Lana. John? Jessie? Jacob? Brows bunched, she rifled her sluggish brain. It’d definitely started with a J. He’d struck up a conversation, made them laugh, bought them a couple of rounds before following them onto the dance floor. But Christa could swear his interest had been in her friend. She thought she remembered dismissing his and Lana’s protests about leaving her alone, going so far as to make a show of swiping at her phone as if scheduling a ride.