Down & Dirty

by Ashley Johnson

  I grin to myself thinking that I’m the smartest chick in the world, but he knocks me on my ass with his next question.

  “What do you have going on this week?”

  Shit, I didn’t think that far in advance. I have the signing today and then I planned to train with a few other girls for the next few days, but that only takes three or four hours out of my day. I’m free any other time, but I can’t let him know that.

  “Uh, you know. I have training and then I’m going out to the hills with some friends and then there are quite a few work commitments. I also promised my dad that we’d hang out this week. The usual stuff,” I tell him through a grimace, hoping he buys it.

  “Okay whatever you say, Em. I’m sure I’ll see you around then,” he says through what sounds like a smile.

  “I’ll call you when I have a free minute and we can find a time to hook up, okay?”

  “Yep, see you soon,” he chuckles and then hangs up, leaving me feeling like I’ve just severely lost that verbal battle.

  I shrug it off and get in my truck to head to my signing at a popular outdoor sports store. I’ve been here quite a few times, but never for a signing, so I’m a bit nervous and excited about it.

  There is a line out the door and people cheer and scream my name as I walk into the store. I wasn’t expecting that. Normally my signing booth at races is busy for a while, but I’ve never had a signing this busy before. I may be here for a while but I’m okay with that because that means less time I have to think about Nixon.

  After two hours of signing autographs, taking pictures and chatting with fans, there is a lull in the line that I’m secretly excited for. I’ve had to go to the bathroom for about an hour and I don’t know if I can hold it much longer.

  I tell Collin that I’m going to the bathroom and will be right back. He nods and decides to call Jaycee.

  I do my business quickly, but when I come out of the stall I notice someone leaning against the sink basins. I jolt back a bit, but hold in my shriek because it is a public bathroom.

  Then I realize it’s Nixon.

  “Damn it Nixon, what are you doing in here?” I grumble.

  “Well, I tried to get to you earlier, but you have a lot of people that want your autograph and I didn’t want to get caught in that crazy group, so I had to wait. Did you know that camping tents are on sale right now? I may need to scoop one of them up,” he jokes.

  “No, I mean what are you doing in the women’s restroom? Couldn’t you have caught me outside?”

  “Oh, well I could have talked to you outside, but what I want requires a bit of camouflage. I don’t think you want people to see what I’m about to do to you over by the hunting gear,” he raises a brow and saunters over to me.

  “And what is it that you want to do to me, Nixon?” I ask, knowing I’m playing with fire but unable to stop. Maybe going six days without sex is a bad thing to deny myself.

  “Well I could tell you what I want to do to you, but it’s so much more fun to show you.”

  I feel my teeth sink into my lower lip in anticipation for Nixon’s touch. I take a small step toward him as he comes closer to me and when he’s within reach, I wrap my arms around his neck and pull his face down to meet mine.

  His tongue automatically dives into my mouth and his hands grab hold of my ass, making sure they each have a handful.

  I moan into his mouth, feeling the need to be taken right now. I can’t believe that I told him this morning that we probably couldn’t get together for a week. I don’t think my body could handle a week without some sort of Nixon induced love, and the reaction my body is having to him right now is proof.

  I pick up my left leg and throw it around his hip, needing friction of any sort to help this small ache starting between my thighs.

  “You need to get off, don’t you sugar,” he mumbles against my mouth and then goes back to kissing me. I moan and start running my hands through his hair to urge him on without having to break the contact of our lips.

  He lowers his fingers and unbuttons my jeans, dropping them to the ground easily.

  His fingers start to travel from my ass to the apex of my thighs where I’m dying for a little attention, but as soon as his fingers roam under my lace thong and run along my sensitive area I remember that we’re in a public bathroom where I’m having a signing.

  “Shit, this needs to be quick and quiet so I can get back out there,” I tell him. The disappointment can be heard in my voice, but I can’t stay in here and take my time with him. Either I’ll have a line of fans waiting an hour for me to come out of the bathroom and think I have something wrong with me internally, or someone walks in here and sees Nixon and I together and we don’t want that to be public knowledge. We’ve both worked hard to make sure no one knows about us.

  Nixon releases a huff against my mouth, but agrees that this needs to be faster than we’d both like it to be. Then he unbuttons his jeans, pulling them down only far enough to free his long, hard cock and grabs the side of my panties, pushing them aside from my wet folds and rams himself inside.

  “Give me your other leg sugar and wrap them both around me,” he mutters and winds his hands around my thighs when I comply. He takes a few steps forward and then I feel the cold tile wall through my tank top.

  With my body at a better angle Nixon can pound into me relentlessly, and he does. We’re both breathing hard and I can feel my body light up quickly, looking for the release that I know won’t take long to hit.

  When I feel like I’m at the edge I reach my hand down and start vigorously rubbing my swollen mound. Nixon’s eyes follow my finger and he starts pumping into me harder, faster.

  “That’s so fucking hot baby. I love watching you touch yourself,” he growls.

  I’m panting and so damn close to coming it isn’t even funny, but I need something else to push me over the cliff.

  “Oh god Nixon, you feel so good,” I whisper through my panting breath.

  “Just wait until I get you in bed tonight. I’m gonna fuck you long and hard, first with my tongue and then again with my cock,” he promises.

  I’m not sure if it was his words or the fact that he told me he was coming back to my bed tonight that did it, but I suddenly fall over the edge, trying hard not to make a lot of noise and probably failing.

  I can hear a loud moan echo against the blue tiled walls and look at Nixon to tell him he needs to be quiet, but then he stills as he comes and then buries his face in my neck.

  Then I feel his body begin to shake with what feels like laughter.

  “Are you laughing?” I ask breathlessly and get only a nod against my shoulder as an answer.

  “Why?”

  It takes him a few moments to get himself under control long enough to answer me, but when he pulls his face from my shoulder, he’s wearing a bright smile and looks happy.

  “Because you told me that we need to be quiet but I don’t think you’ve ever screamed so loud when you’ve come. It didn’t help that the sound bounced off the walls, but I’m pretty sure every person in the store just heard you come on my dick baby.”

  “Are you happy about that?” I grit out, seeing that he does actually look pleased with himself. When he nods, I give him a light smack against the shoulder and unlock my legs from his back so I can get cleaned up and out of this bathroom.

  After we’re both put back together, I wash my hands and tell him to stay in the bathroom for a few minutes after I leave so no one sees us leaving the bathroom together. It’s bad enough that people within a fifty yard radius of the bathroom probably heard me come. I don’t need them to see who I was with and make things harder on both of us.

  “I’ll see you tonight, sugar,” he tells me and gives my ass a little swat as I walk toward the door. I turn around to glare at him but can’t stop the small smile that spreads across my face at the thought of seeing him again tonight.

  Chapter 19

  I am so excited for this trip to Moab. Utah h
as some of the best open terrain to tear up on a bike and I am going to spend two and a half days camping with a group of my closest friends that I only get to see maybe five times a year.

  Nixon and I ride down together, securing both of our bikes in the back of his truck and making the ten hour drive to Moab. We keep the conversation light and cheery, steering away from obviously uncomfortable topics, or we listen to music.

  About ten minutes away from our campsite, Nixon drops a big bomb on the entire weekend.

  “Hey I forgot to tell you that Gunnar Drake came in from Australia yesterday and rode out with a couple of the guys. He’s going to camp with us this weekend. Have you met him?”

  I’ve never been so glad for the fact that we’re on a dirt road Nixon has to focus on where he’s driving because I feel like my eyes just about bug out of my head.

  Gunnar and I had hooked up the first time about six years ago. I had just broken up with my fiancé and he was there to help me take my mind off my sadness. Every time Gunnar came back to the states for a race and we were in the same area, we got together for a few hours, sometimes days, of mind numbing, sweaty, explosive sex.

  Nixon is the second largest equipped man I’ve ever been with, falling behind Gunnar, but size doesn’t mean a thing if the guy doesn’t know what he’s doing with it.

  Gunnar definitely knows what he’s doing with it.

  How the hell was I going to explain this?

  Instead of actually telling Nixon that something had happened between Gunner and me, I remind myself that we were just fuck buddies and I don’t have to explain any previous lovers with him. So I’ll just keep a tight lid on it and hope that Gunnar doesn’t make it a big deal.

  “Uh yeah, I’ve met him. He’s really good,” I say absentmindedly, my mind drifting over previous experiences with Gunnar.

  “Good? Good at what?” Nixon questions, his brows drawing together but still keeping his eyes on the dirt road as we near our camp.

  Shit.

  “Really good at riding, of course. I’ve run a track or two with him and he has a lot of talent.”

  Nixon nods, looking semi satisfied with my answer and I slowly release the breath I’ve been holding in.

  We pull into the campsite and find everyone else has beat us here. Both Nixon and I jump out of the truck and stretch our bodies before approaching our friends.

  “Emmie! Hey babe,” Harlow yells about ten yards away as she nails down spikes to hold up her tent. I wave at her and notice that her yelling has brought everyone else out of their tents to see us.

  Gunnar rounds his tent with another rider named Kyle and spots me immediately. I’m momentarily stupefied as the six foot, tanned sex god makes his way toward me.

  His blonde hair flips out from under his baseball cap, curling at the ends and bringing attention to his gorgeous face.

  His dark tan makes his light blue eyes drastically stand out and his teeth look whiter. The tight blue tank top he’s sporting leaves little to the imagination about how ripped he is. Muscles are protruding in places I didn’t even know people could have muscles. Add that to the fact that he’s wearing his riding pants with a pair of white riding boots just adds to the deliciousness that is Gunnar Drake.

  For a second I forget that the sexy bundle of Nixon is standing right next to me until he reaches over and touches my elbow, jolting my body and capturing my attention once more.

  “You okay sugar? Your cheeks are a bit red.”

  “Yeah I’m fine, just a lot hotter out here than I thought it was going to be,” I tell him, not elaborating that it’s Gunnar that is kicking up the heat.

  I really like Gunnar, especially the things his Australian tongue knows how to do down under, but I don’t think I can give up what Nixon and I have going for us right now. Sex hasn’t ever been this addicting, even when I was with Gunnar. Let’s just hope that he’ll let our past stay there.

  “Scremmie Back,” Gunnar yells in his mouth watering accent and begins to jog toward me. I guess he’s not going to sweep our sexual relationship under the rug like I’d hoped when I hear the stupid nickname he gave me years ago.

  Why does everyone feel the need to give me a damn nickname?

  It should embarrass me that he’s just yelled this to all of my friends, but I’ve been around crass and annoying riders for way too long to be offended. “Hey Gun,” I say cheerily as he wraps his arms around me and hoists me into the air, chuckling in my ear.

  “Did you just call her Scremmie Back?” Nixon asks him.

  Oh fuck. This isn’t going to come out well, I know it.

  “Yeah I did. I gave little Miss Emmie that nickname, what was it, about three years ago?” I shrug and then nod because that sounds about right.

  “Yeah, it was right after we hooked up in Florida. That was the week that I found out she’s quite the screamer when she’s on her back, so I call her Scremmie Back.” Gunnar, with an arm still wrapped around my shoulders, gives me a little shake as most of our friends laugh at his story.

  Nixon is not one of those people. He looks pissed. His hands are clenched tightly at his sides and his jaw looks like it’s clenched so tight that his teeth might crack.

  “Em, can you help me get our bikes out of the truck so we can get the tent set up?” he asks, his tone too quiet to seem calm.

  I step out of Gunnar’s hold and make my way to the back of Nixon’s truck, jumping into the bed to un-strap my bike.

  “Scremmie?” Nixon grits out without looking at me. I let out a huff of air to calm myself down before I answer him.

  “Yeah, it was a long time ago Nixon. It’s no big deal,” I say nonchalantly, because I don’t want this to be a big deal. I just want a chill weekend with some friends, not to fight with my-whatever Nixon is to me.

  After we both get our bikes down the ramp and settled on the soft dirt, Nixon decides to lay into me again.

  “It is a big deal, Emmie. Now I get to spend the weekend listening to him tell all of our friends how much you love being on your fucking back. I don’t want to listen to everyone here talking about how many times you’ve fucked them.”

  This pisses me off because he’s making it seem like I’ve slept with everyone here. He has no idea how many times I’ve been told by different girls how great he is in the sack, even before we got together.

  Plus it’s not like I was locked in my room, helpless and virginal, waiting for Nixon fucking King to come into my life. I’ve had my fair share of sexual encounters and I don’t need Nixon getting pissed off every single time we run into one of them.

  I get my bike unloaded and instead of helping get all of our supplies out and our tents set up, I strap on my riding boots and my helmet, skipping my riding gear because it takes time that I’m not willing to spend right now.

  I thrust down on my kick start and only catch Nixon throwing his hands in the air to get my attention from the corner of my eye as I gun it past him.

  I need to get away from him for a second. I need to be able to breathe and not feel like a whore because I’ve slept with someone else.

  I also need to calm down because if he opens his mouth and says one more dickheaded comment, I might just strangle him.

  * *

  I spend almost two hours riding around, enjoying the beauty that is Moab before I decide to head back and get my gear set up.

  When I pull into the camp and kill the engine, I notice that Nixon is the only one still here and he’s sitting on one of the fold out chairs we’ve brought.

  “Where is everyone else?” I ask him, avoiding his eyes by sitting on the tailgate of his dark blue truck to remove my boots.

  “They all went out for a ride, they should be back soon,” he says sullenly.

  “Okay,” I end the conversation and turn in the truck bed, looking for my tent and bag of clothing, but the bed is empty save a few gas cans.

  “Where is my tent?” I ask and look around camp, noticing that we’re one tent short. Mine.


  “I only packed one tent, sugar. I figured you’d be sleeping in my tent with me. Then maybe you can help me pitch a tent in my pants later,” he smirks and walks toward me. I don’t know whether to be pissed or turned on, but I’m leaning a lot closer to pissed off at the moment.

  He steps in front of me and grabs my knees, spreading them apart so he can step between my thighs. Then his hands grab at my ass and pull my body flush with his.

  “I didn’t mean to freak out on you earlier, babe,” he mumbles.

  “I’m sure you didn’t Nixon, but you know that I was with other people before I met you, just like I know and have heard numerous stories about your sexual talents from other girls.” I put my hands on his shoulders when I see his brows raise and a devious smile take over his face.

  “No I’m not going to tell you the stories I’ve heard,” I answer his unspoken question and he crinkles his nose at me before chuckling.

  “I know that you’ve been with other guys Em, and that’s fine, but when I asked you if you knew him and you brushed it off like you’d only met him once or twice, I got pissed.”

  My mind starts to agree with him but then the words ‘fuck buddy’ flash in my brain and I start to get pissed again.

  Stupid arrangement.

  “Why? You have no right to be pissed. Remember our rules about this arrangement? You don’t get to act like a jealous boyfriend when we’re just fuck buddies, Nixon,” I grit out, mad at myself for bringing up the fact that we’re not doing anything but sleeping together.

  His face turns fierce and he opens his mouth, most likely to tell me that I’m right and that we should have sex to make things alright between the two of us, when we hear dirt bike engines heading our way. Our conversation is effectively cut off when all five of our friends pull into camp and start talking about starting up a fire so we can get dinner cooking.

  * *

  After hours of fire roasting tin foil full of different vegetables and steaks, we’ve completely devoured dinner and all of us are lounging in our camping chairs relaxing.