Dirty Obsession (Dirty 1)

I turn and hurry to catch up with Kenny. All the time, I’m thinking, Asher has a heart. And it’s a good heart that is capable of love. Who knew?

My week is almost up, and I can tell that Asher is getting restless at my place. He’s accidentally broken a wine glass, a picture frame, and a glass figurine I had sitting on a shelf. It’s not that he’s clumsy; he’s just not used to having so many nice things, and he didn’t realize that one wrong movement could cause so much damage.

But Asher has done everything that he was supposed to do. He hasn’t complained once about staying in my condo. And, anytime that he was close to complaining, he would just fuck me, and then he’d seemingly like my condo again.

He has spent most of the week at my office other than the few hours a day that he is surfing. He has taken I don’t know how many of my kids out for surf lessons.

But he has also spent a lot of time talking with the kids. And, as much as I thought that I should be afraid of what he was telling the kids, I’m not afraid at all. I thought he would tell them that it was okay to drink, party, and do drugs. That it was okay to steal what you needed. But he didn’t. He didn’t exactly tell the kids that they needed to be models of perfection. He didn’t sugarcoat and say that their life was going to be easy. He was completely honest and real with them. He’s been doing a better job at connecting with them than many of our counselors have done. I would hire him full-time in a heartbeat if I thought he would say yes and if it wouldn’t complicate things further.

Right now, it’s a lazy Sunday afternoon. I’m working on my laptop, sitting on my comfortable couch, with my feet stretched out across his lap while he watches some baseball game on the TV. And all I can think about is how I can’t imagine how we are going to spend our time at his place. I’m not even sure if his couch ca

n support our weight for this long.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” Asher asks without taking his eyes off the television.

“How do you know I’m looking at you?”

“Because your typing on the computer stopped, and I assume it is because my body has distracted you. I need at least twenty minutes though before I can fuck you.”

I laugh. “You’re telling me that, if I stripped naked right now, you wouldn’t fuck me?”

“Nope,” he answers quickly.

“If I wore my black lace lingerie, you wouldn’t fuck me?”

“Nope.”

I frown. “If I rubbed oil all over my body?”

“Nope.”

“If I brought in a model for a three-way?”

“Not even for a three-way. They are way overrated anyway.”

I chuckle. “And when did you have a three-way?”

“A couple of years ago. After I won my first international competition. I won half a million in prize money alone. I had my choice of women after that.”

I huff. “Why won’t you fuck me? Why do you need twenty minutes at least?”

“Because this baseball game is tied, going into the bottom of the ninth, and I want to see who wins.”

“I thought you didn’t care about watching baseball.”

He jumps up and starts yelling at the TV. “Homer! That’s a homer. Go, go, go!”

I watch as the ball flies up and then lands in a guy’s glove, inches from going over the fence.

“Shit,” he says, slowly sitting back down, his eyes still on the TV.

“I thought you didn’t care about watching baseball.”

He shrugs. “Now, I do.”

“And why is that?”

“Well, now that I have a nice TV to watch sports on every day, you’ve got me hooked to the thing. And there is a kid I’m helping tutor who is a Cubs fan, and I want them to win for once.”