Trouble

The shirt he gave her swallowed her whole, but Layla felt safe and comfy.

“I guess you don’t need shorts.” Lucas looked her up and down. “Those panties still wet?”

“I’m not wearing any.”

Lucas grinned, turning away from her as his cock twitched. She’d no idea how sexy she was or what she did to him. He was doing everything in his power to calm his urges—the urges he didn’t dare tell her about.

“Are you hungry?”

“I’m starving,” she said, following him into the kitchen. “Do you cook?”

“I’ve been known to cook a decent meal every now and then.”

Lucas’s phone rang, and he excused himself. Layla began to peruse the cabinets and fridge, taking note of the literal distillery he had just in his kitchen alone. She could hear him get frustrated as he was on the phone.

“Well, I’m not fighting tonight, and you can tell Shawna that I’ll see her next weekend,” Lucas said as Layla strained her ears to listen. Who was Shawna and why did she care?

“Yes, I have other things to do, Tim,” Lucas said. “Give me someone better than the Blimp and I’ll make it.”

A long pause, and she thought he’d hung up, but then he chuckled.

“Yeah, she’s probably mad,” Lucas said. “I don’t give a fuck. She’s not my priority, and you’re not my fucking father!”

Layla was becoming unsettled. She could hear him slamming things around in his room now and wanted desperately to check on him.

She tiptoed down the hall and peeked into the room, watching as he tossed some stuff around: books, clothes, shoes.

He was off the phone and fiddling with the top drawer of his dresser, where he kept his whiskey.

When the drawer didn’t pull out right away, he cursed it and yanked harder until it released and he tossed it across the room, barely missing Layla’s tiny body.

“Ahh!” she yelped, immediately cowering into a ball on the floor.

“Layla!” Lucas was on her in a flash. “Did that hit you?”

Shaking, she shook her head. “N-no, but what’s wrong?”

Lucas’s niceness waned. He grabbed her up in his arms, pushing her up against the wall.

“Just because we’re fucking doesn’t mean everything is your business,” he snarled, his nose touching hers.

Lucas hadn’t even realized that he’d picked her up and was holding her against the wall with his arm strength, her feet dangling off the floor.

She wrangled for a moment and suddenly composed herself. “Are you done?” she asked him, jutting her chin out in defiance.

He tilted his head to the side, not taking his eyes off of hers. “Am I done?”

“With your tantrum?”

“You call this a tantrum?”

“What else is it?” Layla asked as calm as a cucumber. “You won’t tell me what’s wrong, so I’ll assume it’s just you not getting your way.”

He lowered her to the floor and rested his forehead against hers. “You’re so hot in my shirt…”

“You’re avoiding the issue.”

Lucas pushed away from the wall, taking the dresser drawer back with him to repair.

“A friend of mine is upset that I didn’t meet her, and my other friend is pissed that I won’t make him money tonight.”

Layla nodded. “Why are you mad?”

Lucas fixed the drawer, tidying anything else he’d left unkempt. “I hate being treated like a…”

“Child?”

Lucas balled his fists together, hating that she was right.

“Were you obligated to them this evening?”

“No.”

“Then let’s go eat.” Layla waved him on as she left the room. “I make a mean steak and eggs!”

Lucas stared at where the little hippie had been standing and couldn’t bring himself to move. She wasn’t afraid of him, and just her voice eased his rage.

And that nice little ass he watched sashay its way back into his kitchen was an added bonus.

Lucas was smitten as he watched her cook, rambling on about something that had happened when she was in school.

He tried to pay attention—frying up the eggs and keeping an eye on her at the same time was dangerous, but he didn’t care.

“So, yeah, I was in the Girl Scouts for a while, but then when I was adopted, I wanted to focus on my new home,” Layla said, smiling up at him.

“My family’s down in Galveston.”

“Galveston…” Layla nodded, flipping the steak. “How do you like your meat?”

Lucas chuckled.

“Lucas…”

“Medium rare.” He looked over at the skillet. “Perfect.”

Layla liked hers the same way, so she flipped them both over one last time and placed them on separate plates as Lucas scooped the eggs out.

Lucas didn’t mind that she was eating her dinner in nothing but his oversized night shirt. It was turning him on so much that he could barely register the food they were eating.

“When’s the last time you saw them?” Layla asked, still trying to figure Lucas out.

“Oh, I see them, but I’d rather not,” Lucas said. “I have a cousin who has it all,” he said sarcastically. “House, wife, kids…”

“Are you close to your cousin?”

“Liam. He lives close to the family, of course.” Lucas swallowed hard. “I don’t want to mooch off of them like he will, so out of the goodness of their fucking hearts, they gave me this place. I’ve gutted it twice.”

“I like it.”

Lucas smiled. She wasn’t a liar, not in the way that makes people bad liars. Layla was genuine and sincere.

They talked a little while longer, and Layla yawned.

“I’ve got some extra toothbrushes underneath the sink if you want to use one.”

“Oh, yes! Thank you.”

He waited for her to reemerge from his room, but when his impatience grew, Lucas made his way down the hall—not expecting to see Layla sprawled out on the bed, fast asleep.

His large shirt had ridden up, and her nice, plump ass was exposed to his lusting eyes, her pink little pussy beckoning to him.

“Calm down, boy,” Lucas said to his erect cock. “We’re just gonna have to sit this one out.”

He turned off the lights, got himself ready for bed, and crawled in next to her, gathering Layla into his arms as they spooned underneath the covers.

“What am I going to do about you?” he breathed into her ear, but she was in such a deep slumber that she barely stirred.

“Good night, Little Hippie.”

***

The next morning, Lucas found a pair of leggings and asked if she wanted to wear them out.

“I’ll just wear my dress,” she told him, eyeing the leggings. “We’ll stop at Gretchen’s first and I can change. Whose leggings are these, Lucas? Certainly not yours.”

He felt himself surge with panic. They belonged to Shawna. He rarely brought women home, and it had been months since she left them there. Lucas wanted to kick himself in the ass for even suggesting them to her.

“Thank you though.”

“My shirt looks better on you,” he said as she got into her dress from the night before.

“Well, I’ll put it back on once I get into my own pants,” she told him. Layla watched him dress and wondered how the hell a man his size could even shop at regular stores.

“I have to get a lot custom fit,” he said, reading her mind.

“I see. Good thing because you’re a big guy.”

“Big in more ways than one, yeah?” He winked at her, sending her reeling with lust.

She needed to get out of his house and back to her normal routine—which would now still consist of Lucas Foster.

They first stopped at Gretchen’s, who already had her stuff waiting.

“I was actually called into work today, so I wanted to make sure you had everything!” She hugged her friend, eyeing Lucas as he stood quietly behind them. “All is well?”

Layla nodded. “Yes, and thanks for letting me crash here. Wish me luck at Paul’s.”

Lucas took note that she not only got into her own leggings, but threw his shirt back on. Damn, she was hot.

“Call me if you need me!” Gretchen waved as they headed to Paul’s.

Layla was happy that he wasn’t there. Lucas loaded up the back of his truck with the boxes she’d packed, enjoying every last minute of her getting the hell away from the pipsqueak.

“Knock, knock!”

A voice came at the door as Lucas placed another box in the bed of his truck. He looked at Layla, who appeared mortified at the woman standing before her—some blonde who looked to be trouble.

“Moving out already?”

“Why would I stay?”

“He could have given you the world, Layla, but you chose—”

“I chose not to be abused by him anymore, and he cheated on me with you, Lauren. Why are you even here?” She looked past her to Lauren’s car parked a few spaces down from Lucas’s truck. “Are you moving in?”

“It’s not permanent. We’re not an item, contrary to what Paul wants to believe. You just couldn’t give him what I can, and now you’re hanging out with the certifiable psychopath of—”

“No.” Layla put her hand up. “You don’t get to talk about my friends like that. I don’t know what type of trauma you’ve gone through, but you will keep Lucas’s name out of your mouth.”

Lauren scoffed. “Growing some balls there, are we? And don’t patronize me with your pity. I’m not dealing with trauma. My life is fabulous—contrary to the poor, little country girl who can’t even breed for her man.”

“That’s enough, you bitch.” Lucas was standing behind Lauren now and he was monstrous, looming over her and snarling. “Get the fuck out of here before I show you how goddamned certifiable I really am.”

Lauren wasted no time. She scurried off, jumping into her car and driving away.

Layla had retreated back inside, placing her six months’ share of the rent in Paul’s desk and texting him a picture of it. He didn’t reply.

“Thanks,” she told Lucas as he helped her into the truck. “I’m sorry about…”

“She’s the asshole, Layla, not you.”

The next stop was Rosie’s, and she seemed fine with Layla being Lucas’s sponsor as long as there wasn’t a conflict of interest. Both agreed to the terms, even though sleeping together was probably a ~huge~ conflict.

“I don’t want anyone else,” Lucas told her as they drove away from Rosie’s home. “In fact, I’d fuck the shit out of you right now if you’d let me.”

“Lucas, you’re insatiable,” Layla said, shaking her head. It wasn’t like she hadn’t been thinking about it all day though.

“I’ll drop you off at your parents’,” he said, looking at the dark sky. “I have to work the club tonight, so don’t get into any trouble.”

“Me?” Layla giggled. “Not sure you need to worry about me.”

All Lucas worried about these days was her though.

“Thank you for helping me with the rent and getting my stuff,” she told him as he sat in his truck, ready to head out.

“You owe me,” Lucas told her. “What do you think I want out of this?”

“Yoga classes? Self-help guides? Tibetan singing bowls?”

The look on Lucas’s face was priceless.

“I don’t do that shit.”

“It’s relaxing.”

“So is fucking.”

“Then go fuck Shawna.”

The look on her face must have been priceless then. Lucas pursed his lips together.

“Jealous?”

“Of course not.” Layla scrunched up her face. “We’re not an item, Lucas.”

Lucas shrugged. “People can still be jealous.”

“Goodbye, Lucas,” she said, waving to him as she walked away. “No trouble tonight.”

Lucas nodded, satisfied that his little hippie had a bit of a jealous side—especially when it came to him.

“Girl’s got my balls in a vice,” he mumbled, peeling out of the driveway. “This can’t be good.”