by Cat Mason
I wiggle out of Dixon’s grip, pulling away from his sweaty, tattooed skin, and step up behind Gunnar. Sliding my arms around his bare chest, I press my lips against his shoulder and breathe him in.
“As much as I like watching you with no shirt on,” I whisper into his ear. “I thought this wasn’t supposed to take very long?”
Before I know what’s going on, Gunnar has me pulled in front of him and pinned against the fender of the truck. His grease covered hands slide into my hair and he kisses me. I melt into him, but like always, the kiss I expect to be rough and breathtaking, is way too soft and gone too fast.
“Love you,” he says before stepping back and heading into the garage.
I shake my head and look toward Dixon for answers instead. “How much longer so I can feed you two?”
He squints at me as he lights the cigarette hanging between his lips and laughs. “We fixed the problem a few hours ago. He’s just fuckin’ around now to see what he can to do make it a big boy truck.”
“No!” I yell over my shoulder. “How many times do I have to tell you? We’re not souping up the damn truck.”
“This is why I don’t have a wife, man. I do whatever the hell I want with my money.”
I rest my hand on my hip and take a swig off my beer without looking away from Dixon. “You’d fucking love to have a wife like me, admit it.”
Dixon steps up to me, steals my beer from my hand, and finishes what’s left in the bottle. “I’d have to have a heart before I could love someone, sweetheart. However, I love beer because it doesn’t have expectations for me. And that bottle of Knob on top of the fridge… yeah, I’m about to love the fuck outta that because it won’t judge me when I don’t call. These cigarettes,—” he takes a drag and blows the smoke into the air “—I love them because I don’t have to listen to them nag at me for a lifetime before they kill me.”
With that, he turns on his heel and heads into the house. I have no doubt that he’s headed straight to grab that bottle off the fridge. Gunnar’s arms wrap around me from behind and he rests his head on top of mine.
“One day that fucker’s gonna fall for someone again and I’m gonna laugh so hard when it happens.”
“The Tin Man with a heart.” I chuckle. “I’ll keep my eye out for a wizard. Now, come inside and I’ll feed you so you can pass out.”
Dropping his arms, he steps back and slaps my ass, cheering as he walks by me. “I knew I married you for a reason.”
Taking a deep breath, I grab the tools and cell phones off the engine before slamming the hood closed. The last thing we need right now is something else to break because the drunk asses forgot something in there, or to lose a phone. This is what I’m here for after all. To cook and clean up after him. I bet I’ve got that Best Wife Ever award in the bag this year.
Shaking off the ache that settles in at the thought of always being stuck on the hamster wheel instead of getting to the place I always pictured Gunnar and I would be, I head inside and grab another drink. I’m not going to let the fact that I feel like I’m losing myself ruin my night off.
***
“He lasted longer than I expected,” Dixon says as he comes up behind me and drops the now empty bottle of Knob Creek into the trash beside me.
I look over my shoulder and shake my head. Gunnar is sprawled across the couch, one leg over the back, the other on the floor, and his hat pulled down. The only thing I can see on his face is his wide open mouth. It’s a funny sight, but now I have to figure out how to get him from where he is to our bed so Dixon can have the couch until he’s sober enough to drive.
“I’m not carryin’ that fucker,” he barks out with a laugh as if he could read my mind. “I’ll just call a cab and go home.”
“Are you stupid? A cab will ass rape you and your wallet.” His eyes slide shut and he’s almost still long enough for me to think he’s asleep standing up, but then his chest starts to shake with laughter.
“You have a filthy mouth sometimes. I love it.”
“If you’re just realizing that, you need more help than I can provide.” Searching through my purse, I grab my keys to Gunnar’s truck and head toward the couch, talking over my shoulder as I go. “I’m sober enough to take you home and he can come get you tomorrow and bring you back to get your truck.” Dropping down beside Gunnar, I shake him gently. “Baby, wake up.”
It takes a few tries, but he finally groans. “What?”
“I’m taking Dixon home, I’ll be back in a little bit.”
Rolling away from me, he kicks his shoes off and waves me off. “K.”
When I stand up and look through the opened door, I see Dixon’s already out in the truck. Walking out, I climb up and slide in next to him, adjusting the seat and the mirrors. Dixon, who is usually mouthy and constantly talking, sits silently and stares down at his hands.
“I probably shouldn’t let you take me home,” he mumbles so low that I almost didn’t catch it.
“Why not?”
His head snaps up and he stares at me like he didn’t realize I was there. After a minute he shakes it off, so I do the same and pull out of the driveway. It’s not the first time in our friendship that he’s made some off the wall comment without being able to explain what he meant, so I chalk it up to drunken ramblings. That’s probably one of the tamer comments anyway.
By the time I pull up into his driveway Dixon is passed out and I’ve realized that I’m not as sober as I had originally thought. I throw the truck into park, shut it off, and jump out, wobbling a bit at first. The cool air helps to wake me up a bit as I round the truck and pull open the passenger side door.
“Wake up, asshole, you’re home.” I poke at him until he finally wakes up enough to slide out. His arm wraps around my shoulders and he leans on me. One step at a time, I help him up the stairs and through the door. Dixon attempts to kick the door closed behind us, but does nothing but throw us off balance and send us stumbling.
“I’m good!” he yells, throwing his hands in the air when he straightens up. “I’m good, but I need to go to bed.”
“You gonna make it up those stairs, drunky?”
Dixon looks between me and the stairs and shakes his head. “I think I need my foul mouthed sober crutch to help me.”
“I’m not sober, Dixon. I thought I was, but about halfway here it all hit me.”
His eyes narrow, his mouth pressing into a hard line. “And you kept driving?”
“If I had stopped, the cops would have pulled up behind us and then what?”
He stares at me for a minute before shaking his head. “I need to go to bed.”
Taking advantage of the subject change, I step up next to him and help him up the stairs. I figure I’ll flop him into bed, make sure he’s good, and then sleep off this alcohol in the truck before heading home. It takes us a few minutes for us to get up the stairs and into his room, but we finally make it. Dixon drops down on the edge of the bed, unlaces, and toes off his boots.
“You good?” He nods and I turn to leave.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”
“Home.”
“I don’t fuckin’ think so,” he growls. “I’m pissed as a mother fucker that you didn’t wake me up when you realized you weren’t good to drive. Lay the fuck down and sleep it off.”
I stand there and stare at him. His words shock me, but it’s not that he’s telling me to climb into bed with him that gets me, it’s the fact that he sounds mad at me. In all the years we’ve been friends, I’ve seen him pissed off, but never has it been directed toward me. When I don’t move, he stands up, grabs me by the hips, and easily tosses me onto the bed.
“Give me your phone,” he demands. Without hesitation this time, I hand my phone over to him. He slams his thumb against the screen a few times before putting it to his ear and waiting. “Hey, Gunnar, your wife’s a drunk idiot. She’s stayin’ here until she’s sober because I don’t want the fuckin’ call to come scrape her G
od damn ass off the highway. She’ll be home in the mornin’.”
After hanging up, he tosses the phone at me and shakes his head. Turning around, he disappears into the bathroom for a few minutes before returning in nothing but a pair of shorts. He drops a shirt and pair of shorts on my legs and I scramble to get up before I piss him off even more.
“I’m sorry,” I mumble as I pass him.
“I offered to take a cab,” Dixon bites out.
“I thought I was all right to drive. It won’t happen again.”
Before I even realize he’s moving, he has me pinned between the wall and his chest. The look in his eyes isn’t something I’ve seen there before. It’s like he’s at war with himself inside his head. “You’re fuckin’ right it won’t happen again! I’m not losin’ you because of somethin’ stupid!”
“Dixon—”
My thought is cut off when he slams his mouth down against mine. I completely freeze because the man kissing me isn’t my husband. He’s been one of my best friends since we were kids, but nothing like this has ever happened between us and I’m not sure how to handle it. The safe, sane, and rational part of my brain is screaming at me to push him away; but the other side, the risky side that realizes that I’m losing myself because Gunnar’s needs always comes first, screams at me to give in. When I open my eyes, Dixon is staring as he attempts to kiss me, waiting for me to decide what I’m going to do. The second I give in to the risky side of my brain, he knows it.
He pulls back, but just barely. “God damn it, Kennedy, kiss me back. I know you fuckin’ want to. I saw the look in your eyes when he kissed you today, somethin’ is missin’. Let me give you everything he can't.”
He's right, something is missing between us, but I can't tell him that. This time when he slams his lips against mine, I give in and open up to him. I let him set the pace because I’m so far out of my comfort zone that I don’t even know what to do with my hands. It’s almost as if my brain shorted out the second he pushed me against the wall. Thankfully he doesn’t wait for me to figure out what I’m doing. He grabs my wrists and roughly pins them against the wall above my head as he continues to kiss me. His free hand roams down my side and shifts the hem of my shirt out of the way so he can get to my skin.
Everything about this feels different than what I’m used to. Where Gunnar is—and always has been— soft and gentle, Dixon is the complete opposite. Everything about him is rough, and for some reason, my entire body is burning because of it. I want the forcefulness of it without having to ask for it, and that’s what Dixon is giving me.
Sucking my bottom lip into his mouth, he bites down, dragging his teeth across it as he pulls back.
Standing to his full height, Dixon stares down at me with fire burning in his eyes. He lets go of my hands but something inside me makes me keep them above my head. Slowly, as if he’s waiting for me to suddenly change my mind like I should, he drags my shirt over my head and drops it. His fingers settle on the button of my shorts.
“These fuckin’ shorts have been taunting me all day.” As he lowers the zipper with one hand, his other tips my head out of the way so he can nip his way down my throat. “All. Fuckin’. Day,” he growls between bites. “All I wanted to do when you were playing with that damn hose earlier was to push you to the ground and lick you clean. Mainly your pussy with my tongue.”
The fact that he’s talking about me taunting him shocks me because I’m a far cry from his usual size twos. I blow out a shaky breath when my shorts hit the floor because I know there’s no going back after this. I finally drop my hands, allowing myself to touch him. My hands settle on either side of his ribs, one covering the face of the Tin Man that takes up his left side, the other covering a portion of the fallen firefighter tribute on the right.
“Quit thinkin’, Kennedy.”
Easy for him to say, he isn’t the one putting a marriage in jeopardy.
“I’m gonna fuck you so hard you forget your name. You’ll go home tomorrow so sore. Every time you move, you’ll think about filthy things I did to you.”
I groan. This is what I want. I want the rough, the filthy. I want to be consumed by the thought of the things that are done to me. I’ve just never had the guts to ask for it with Gunnar. Maybe this is what I need. A one time, no strings night that gives me everything I don’t get at home. Maybe if I get it it’ll be out of my system I’ll be OK.
“I don’t need you to tell me yes or no, Kennedy. I know you want this. I can feel it. You burn when I fuckin’ touch you. Your breathing gets harder. And I bet if I reach between your thighs, you’re wet just from thinkin’ about what I’m gonna do to you.”
I start to nod but am cut off when he kicks my legs apart a bit and his hand slides under the edge of my panties. My jaw falls slack and I’m not even sure what to call the noise I make when he easily thrusts two fingers into me and begins grinding his palm against my clit.
“So fuckin’ wet for me,” he smirks down at me and licks his lips. “You’re gonna get your ass on the bed and spread your legs so I can taste you.”
That wasn’t a question. He isn’t asking me if I want him to lick my pussy, he’s telling me, and I can’t bring myself to tell him no.
Without removing his hand, Dixon walks me backward toward the bed. I lie back, watching as he yanks down my panties and settles between my thighs. His fingers drift around the tattoo of a sun on my pubic bone, and he smirks.
“I knew there was a bad girl hidin’ somewhere under all that nice girl bullshit.” When he looks up at me, the predatory look in his eyes tells me I’m fucked. The second he drops his head and his tongue touches me, I become completely consumed in what he’s doing and how it good it feels. My back arches when he wraps his lips around my clit, and I lace my fingers through his dark hair to hold him there. Dixon has always joked about being good in the bedroom, especially with his mouth, but this is beyond anything I could have imagined. He uses the perfect amount of tongue, suction, and fingers to drive me insane and hold me on the edge, but never quite lets me slip over. I whimper when he pulls back and he laughs.
“Whinin’ will get you nowhere. You’re not gonna come unless my cock is buried inside this perfect fuckin’ pussy.” Standing up, Dixon slips his shorts out of the way and lets them fall to the floor. My eyes immediately drop to his cock as he wraps his hand around the thick shaft and begins stroking it while he watches me. The light catches on the four balls on the tip and my eyes shoot to his. “It’s a magic cross, you’ll love it.”
“OK,” I finally manage to say. He slides onto the bed, kneeling between my thighs as he continues to stroke his cock.
“As I was saying, you’re not comin’ unless my cock’s inside you. I wanna feel every quiver, every pulse your pussy makes. And I wanna feel you clench as the balls of that cross rub all the right places inside you and make you scream. Then, and only then, am I gonna let you come.”
I nod and Dixon goes back to the task at hand. Me. He slides his fingers back into me, swiping them through the wetness before opening me and following the same path with the head of his cock. When he hits my clit, I whimper again. Thankfully he doesn’t torture me that way for long before finally thrusting into me. He drives in and out of me with such force that it steals my breath. Everything he said he makes good on and I’m positive that I’ll feel him for days because he’s so rough. He pounds into me, relentless and unforgiving, with his eyes locked on mine. Every time I’m close to coming he pulls out, stealing my release from me, and shakes his head with a smile.
Sliding up my body, Dixon runs a hand under my back and grabs a fist full of hair, yanking it until my back arches and my neck is exposed. His other hand moves my bra out of the way and he latches onto my nipple, sucking and biting. He thrusts back into me, and I scream. God, it feels so good to scream. It’s cathartic. Between the tension on my hair, the teeth on my nipple, and the merciless thrusting into my pussy, I’m on sensory overload and I explode. Dixon releases my nipple
so he can shift and get better leverage, driving into me as hard and as fast as he can while my body tenses up under him. He doesn’t stop until he follows me over the edge and collapses on top of me.
I can’t hear anything that Dixon is muttering into my neck over our heavy breathing and the screaming in my head, but I feel his lips moving against my skin. His stubble-covered cheeks scrape my skin, turning me on even though my mind screams at me, calling me a whore. I push against his chest, knowing that if I don’t get him away from me right now, it’s going to happen again, and I can’t let that happen.
Dixon groans, but pushes off the bed and out of sight like I wanted. I shift and have to bite my lip to keep from crying. If I’m this sore already, how the hell am I going to hide this from Gunnar? Oh God, Gunnar… Reaching up, I wipe the tears already forming in the corners of my eyes away before they fall. How the hell could I do this to him? Not only did I cheat on my husband, but I did it with his best friend.
In the span of a few hours I’ve managed to not only throw a ten year marriage down the drain, but decades worth of friendship between us all as well.
When Dixon walks back out of the bathroom, he doesn’t even look my way before leaving the room.
Awesome… the awkwardness has already started.
Jumping from the bed, I grab the clothes he handed me before all this started and rush into the bathroom. After cleaning up, I slip into Dixon’s oversized shirt and shorts and stare at myself. Everything feels different, not just the clothes. I don’t even recognize the woman staring back at me. Swollen lips, messed up slut hair, and another man’s clothes and scent covering my body. This isn’t the woman I ever wanted to be.
Taking a deep breath, I open the door, and without looking toward the messed up bed, I head down to the living room. I have every intention of trying to crash on the couch for a few hours before heading home to watch my life crash and burn, but the sight of Dixon in the chair next to it stops me in my tracks. With his elbows resting on his knees, he stares at his hands, shaking his head as he mutters something too low for me to hear. Maybe now that he’s sobering up he realizes how much of a mistake this was too.