by Cat Mason
“Who knows,” I whisper, burying my face into Gunnar’s neck so she can’t see it anymore. Or maybe it’s so I don’t continue to watch Dixon walk away, because the disappointed feeling settling in my stomach isn’t something that should be there while Gunnar has his arms around me. Gunnar continues to talk and I swear I am trying to keep up, but at some point I tune him out and just randomly agree or nod when it seems appropriate.
Pulling back, he tilts my head up so he can see my face. “Baby, are you feelin’ OK?”
“Hmm? Yeah, I’m fine. Tired I guess.”
Gunnar presses his lips against my temple and steps away. “I’ll go see how many kids are left and then we’ll get goin’ so I can get you into bed.”
I do nothing but nod and watch him walk away. Turning around, I’m met with a knowing look from Lynsey but I don’t say anything. There really isn’t anything to say other than how much of a piece of shit I am, and I don’t want to admit that out loud just yet. It’s late and my mood brings me down and has me suddenly chilly so I grab one of the blankets from the back seat and wrap it around my shoulders before sliding back on the tailgate next to Mark. At some point Dixon shows back up, but I don’t take my eyes off my swinging feet until Gunnar gets back and tells us to load up.
“Shotgun!” Lynsey and Mark yell at the same time. I’ll have to remind myself to punch her in the twat later. Before I have a chance to say anything about sitting next to Gunnar they’re already climbing in, leaving me with no choice but to sit in the back with Dixon. His mood suddenly changes from how he was when he walked away to his usual cockiness and I’m positive he has something up his sleeve, and that makes me nervous.
The cooler takes up the space behind Gunnar’s seat and the blankets we brought to sit on are stuffed back here too. I know that if I hesitate Gunnar is going to start asking why. As I lean in to move things around on the seat so there is space to sit, I can feel Dixon at my back. He closes in on me, letting his hand settle on the hip we both know that Gunnar won’t be able to see if he happens to turn around. My breath catches, stalling out completely when his fingers slide under waistband of jeans. My eyes shoot to where Gunnar isn’t paying any attention and pray that he doesn’t turn around right this second.
“Gonna stand there all day, Sunshine?”
I twist my head around to look at him. “Got somewhere better to be, asshole?”
“Nope,” he says, winking at me. “Just wanted to make sure you didn’t need a boost. Thought old age might have been settin’ in and you couldn’t lift your legs or somethin’.”
“Hatechu,” I mutter. Dixon chuckles behind me and when I go to step up into the truck, his hand slides between my thighs and I have to catch myself before I make a noise or stumble.
“Children…” Gunnar jokingly warns. “Do I need to put you in time out or do you think you can play nicely?”
“I always play nice.” Dixon pouts when I pull away from his hand and sit in the middle of the seat. “Not my fault Kennedy’s jealous of my toys.”
Lynsey snorts, trying to cover it with a cough. “Nobody wants to touch your toys, Dixon.”
I think I would…
He slides in next to me, sitting a little too close, and when the dome light goes off, I know I’m in trouble.
“Baby, can you pull those blankets down? I can’t see out the back window.” I don’t have a chance to move before Dixon reaches over me and pulls the blankets across our laps. Gunnar laughs and winks at Dixon in the mirror. “Thanks, baby.”
“Anything for you, sweetcheeks.”
They continue their bromantic banter back and forth and without even missing a beat, Dixon slides his hand under the blanket to rest on my thigh. I squeeze my legs together, trying like hell to keep his hand from slipping between them because Gunnar is less than three feet away. He stares at me, but I don’t look, choosing to watch the lines on the road disappear as we drive past them. Grabbing his phone, he types one handed and turns the screen down and twists it toward me.
What happened to not running away?
I shake my head, choosing to ignore the question. The answer is obvious. The answer is sitting within arm’s reach.
Not stupid, K. He types out. If I slide my hand into your jeans you’d be wet for me.
I turn so I can glare at him. How could he possibly think that any of this would be OK with me? The fact that he wants to do this right in front of everyone shocks me, and based on the look on his face he knows it. He fucking loves it. Dixon might feel guilty over what we’re doing, but we both know that there’s no stopping now. He flips through his phone, pulling up his gallery, and my eyes widen at the photo on his screen. The stuff he must have bought at the store the other day is all laid out across his bed. Double tapping the screen, Dixon zooms in on each piece, sliding slowly until he knows he has my full attention. Once he knows that I’m right where he wants me, he clicks out and starts typing again.
I love seeing your ass red so I bought the paddle. The plugs are to get your ass ready for my cock. I’ll fill u full and make u scream my name.
There are more, but thankfully he stops after the plugs. We both know I want everything in that photo to be used, but we also know that the plugs are what I want to try most. The way my breathing changed and my lips parted when he showed me those are proof to that. Trailing his fingers up to the button on my jeans, he releases it before dragging the zipper down slowly, silently.
Spread.
Your.
Legs.
I can hear the tone in his words, the controlled and confident way I know his voice would sound, and that makes me react without thinking about anything else. Dixon’s finger slides around my clit and my eyes drift closed, shutting out everything around us while I try to keep myself quiet. When I open them again I’m met with Dixon’s burning gaze that looks to be as hot as an inferno. I know now that I was right and being this close to something so hot is going to get me burned.
Slide forward.
I do as he says, inching toward the front of the seat and as soon as I do, his fingers move south and he plunges them into me. His other hand slips under the blankets and he pulls my leg so it is draped over his, opening me for easier access. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from moaning and out of the corner of my eye I see my phone light up with Lynsey’s name. After taking a breath I grab my phone and open the message, trying to remind myself that I need to remain quiet even though I’m on the brink of an orgasm.
Do we need to stop somewhere and get a room?
I know the second Dixon sees the message because he stops all movements, making me want to cry. The question he wants answers to are so obvious on his face that there is no way I can ignore it without being called on it. Pulling his fingers free, he wipes them on the blanket instead of sticking them in his mouth like he usually does, and types furiously on his phone.
Are u fucking kidding? Lynsey knows? How the hell can we keep doing this now?
I shake my head, sending Lynsey a quick “fuck you” message before turning my attention back to Dixon.
She’s known since the night it happened! She’s the reason that I let it happen again! She’s the reason I came to the firehouse. If anything, if this is something u like doing, u should be thanking her.
“Baby, you OK back there? You don’t look so hot.” Gunnar grabs my attention by sliding his hand back, searching for mine. I reach out, giving it a quick squeeze. I don’t look so hot because this shit is piling up, making everything so much more complicated than I ever wanted. I know it’s my fault and I can’t change it, but I wish I could make everything easy for everyone.
“Yeah, I just want to go to bed.” And curl into a ball and never come out of hiding.
“I’ll tuck you into bed as soon as we get there.”
Aww sweet. R u 5? I wouldn’t be tucking u in, I’d be fucking u til u passed out.
I reach down and redo the zipper and button on my jeans, feeling Dixon’s eyes on my hand the whole time.
/> Did I say I was done?
No, but I am. You’re being a dick.
He thinks about it for a second before typing on his phone, but instead of letting me see, he covers his screen, only letting me see it a few minutes later when Lynsey texts him back with a reply to what was obviously a thank you message. I pull my hand away when he attempts to grab it, but he doesn’t give up until he has a firm grip on it. Maybe this is his way of apologizing for being a dick and I need to accept it and move on so there isn’t any animosity between us. We don’t need Gunnar picking up on anything.
The rest of the ride home Dixon behaves, which leaves me wondering what the hell I have gotten myself into. One second I don’t want him to touch me because Gunnar is there, but the next I can’t get enough of his hands on me. It’s driving me insane. Now, because I made him stop fingering me, I’m left teetering on the edge of exploding and I can’t blame anyone but myself. When we pull into the driveway everyone starts unloading the truck as usual. Dixon grabs the cooler, following behind me and my pile of blankets to the kitchen. Knowing that we’re alone in the house, at least for a minute, he sets the cooler down and advances on me. With my back pressed against the wall, Dixon trails his fingers through my hair, tightening his grip when he reaches the back of my head. Quickly he dips in to kiss me, dragging his teeth across my bottom lip before pressing his mouth to my ear.
“Don’t think for one second that this is over. If I knew that people weren’t about to walk through that fuckin’ door in a few seconds, I would turn you around, fill your pussy with my cock and my hands with your tits, then I would fuck you ‘til you couldn’t stand anymore.”
As soon as he the words finish leaving his mouth, the front door opens and the house fills with noise. Dixon kisses me quickly once more before pushing away, heading out to the living room and I’m left standing with my back to the wall wondering how crazy I’m going to let him make me before I crack.
“Your husband is probably my favorite man alive right now, and that’s sayin’ something,” Mark groans, adjusting the settings on the massage chair he’s reclining in.
Today is our ten year wedding anniversary and Gunnar surprised me with a spa day at Exhale, not just for me, but for Mark and Lynsey too. While he and Dixon fish at the lake with Gunnar’s dad, we are being pampered like royalty.
“He’s scorin’ major points right now, that’s for sure.” I nod in agreement with Lynsey as the men doing our pedicures massage our calves and feet before placing them back into the hot water.
“This is only the beginning according to what I heard,” Mark says, leaning over to pat my arm. “Something tells me you’ll be worshippin’ the denim python tonight, baby girl.”
“The what?” I laugh when the guys doing our nails look up at him with gaping mouths.
“He’s right,” Lynsey sings, reaching over to bump his fist. “You’re gonna need to thank that man properly. Play with his balls, lick those fuckers and stick a finger in his ass. You know, show him how much you appreciate him.”
“Mhm,” Mark sighs. “Now, that’s love.”
My face flames, the men chuckling at our feet as they work. “You two are too damn much. I’m not sticking my finger in Gunnar’s ass,” I whisper. “He would freak!”
“Eh,” Lynsey shrugs, the wheels in her head turning on overdrive. “I think there’s a whole lot of pent up sexual frustration behind our favorite football coach. You may unleash a total beast.”
“I don’t know about that,” I say, knowing that Gunnar has never lost control with me like that. Even though I want it, I can’t begin to see Gunnar doing things to me like Dixon has.
“That’s how you’d know for sure,” Marks says, wiggling a finger at me, a smirk spreading across his face. “Whether he freaks out or not is irrelevant, Kennedy. The answer you’re looking for will be if he stays hard or goes soft when you do it.”
“I see,” I nod thoughtfully. “And what do I do when he punts me off his dick like a football and tells me I’m insane for trying to trying to peg his ass with my thumb.”
“Oh, honey,” Lynsey scolds. “You’ll have to start with your pinky, then work up to the thumb.”
“The ass is so misunderstood and neglected. I mean a man’s has more nerve endings than a woman’s.” Mark explains. “It’s easily comparable to a woman’s g-spot or clit, Kennedy.” Turning his head to face me, he smiles. “Trust me, he’ll send you to the spa every weekend if he gets thanked like that.”
“Oh my God, you two sound like a YouTube instructional video. I can’t believe I’m having this conversation,” I mumble. “Tonight, I’m sure we’ll go out to dinner, just like every year. We’ll walk down by the river, then go home and…”
“Make sappy, sweet love and fall asleep watching the Sports Center recap before eleven,” Lynsey interrupts, waving her hands. “Kennedy, for Christ’s sake, change it up. A shock to the system is what you two need. I mean you’re thirty, not eighty. Live a little, the worst thing he could do is say stop. Mark’s right, you’ll never know if you don’t branch out and try new things.”
“In other words, we’re boring.” Crossing my arms over my chest, I roll my eyes. The spa day was supposed to be relaxing. Instead, I’m being interrogated and sexually analyzed by Peen and Feller over here. Not how I saw this going at all.
“No,” Lynsey replies, shaking her head. “That’s not what we’re saying. Embrace your inner wild and crazy, babe.” Pointing across the room at the entrance to the salon, she grins at me. “How about it, Kennedy?”
“I’ve been embracing more than my share of wild and crazy lately, thanks,” I mumble. “I should probably pace myself.”
“No. Lyn’s right!” Mark says, clapping his hands together. “Crazy hot hair! You have to, Kennedy, or I’ll drag your ass over there myself.”
“Hmm, better check yourself there, mister bossy britches.” Lynsey says, snapping at him. “Don’t try to dominate the conversation and call shots, you have no power here.”
“Fine.” His eyes snap down immediately and he blows out a breath. “Mistress Dragon Lady.”
Her lips press into a hard line, but she ignores Mark and turns her attention toward me. “You should be a little more like a certain person and be more appreciative of my ideas. Why just the other night, I got a text thanking me for…”
“OK, OK, I get it!” I shout, stopping her.
“Just sayin’, when thrust comes to spank I’m there for ya,” she continues. “You don’t even have to ask, I got you.”
My face flames while Mark stares between us, his eyebrow raising in question. “I feel as if this conversation escalated quickly and I have no fucking idea where it even went.”
“Didn’t you plan to go get waxed your ass waxed or something?” she asks, shooing him, but he doesn’t budge.
“All done, ma’am,” the man says, slipping my flip flops around my newly dark purple painted toes.
Stepping down from the chair, I walk toward the salon with Lynsey and Mark hot on my heels. Looking in the mirror beside the counter, I stare at my reflection. Checking myself over, I smile at the idea of doing something drastically different with my look. After all, it’s just hair, right? Ignoring Lyn and Mark arguing beside me, I grab a book of color choices from the shelf and sit down. Flipping through the pages, I shake my head at every image. Nothing quite stands out to me and if I am going to make a change, I want it to be something I am completely in love with since I’ll have to look at it in the mirror every morning. Tossing it to the counter with a frustrated huff, I look up and see a photo on the wall.
“That’s it!” I say, pushing to my feet and gesturing to the poster sized photo of a woman with bright blue streaks in her hair. “Except I want mine in purple. It’ll match my car and my toes.”
“Kennedy?”
The voice causes me to freeze. Turning around, I come face to face with Ava. Standing in front of us in a black dress with a bright pink name tag on it, she grins at
me. “I thought that was you. Decide to pamper yourself, huh?”
Mark and Lynsey instantly stop arguing, flanking me on both sides. “Hello, Ava.” Lynsey nudges me, and Mark clears his throat, making me roll my eyes. “Lynsey, Mark, this is Ava. She’s the friend of Dixon’s from the other night,” I say, glancing at Lynsey.
“Oooooooh,” Mark and Lynsey say in unison, looking her over with judgmental gazes.
“I feel like I missed out on a very interesting meal,” Lynsey says, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. “Don’t you, Mark?”
“I’m damned insulted that we weren’t invited,” Mark says, nudging around me to get closer to Ava. She tosses her hair over her shoulder and smiles at him, batting her eyelashes.
“Next time, for sure.” Ava nods.
“Yeah,” Lynsey says, sarcasm dripping from her lips. “Well, when he calls you, be sure and let him know how excited we were to meet you.”
“Sounds great. He forgot to give me his number, so I’m gonna swing by the fire station after work and see if he’s there.” Ava says, pressing her hands together. Turning to me, she cocks her head sideways. “So, how about we get you in a chair, Kennedy? You’re sure you want purple?” she asks, leading me away from Lynsey and Mark toward an empty salon chair.
Looking at the tiny blonde and her scrutinizing blue eyes, I nod. “Yes, lots of purple streaks.” Sitting down in the chair, I smile wide. Nodding her head, clearly not impressed with my choice, she turns and heads over to the front desk and begins talking to a woman, a stylist, I assume. Shaking out my hair, I smile and prepare to embrace another piece of my inner wild and crazy.
“Ha!” Lynsey laughs, leaning her ass against my chair. “That Twattertot actually thinks he’s gonna call.” Looking down at me, she arches a brow. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about this. Did you not think I deserved a laugh?”