Always Mickie (Cruz Brothers Book 3)

by Melanie Munton

  “Just pretend you’re being chased by zombies and you’ll be fine.”

  “Mickie—”

  “Quiet on the set!” the voice boomed over the megaphone.

  Dawson kept whispering into my ear. “This is crazy.”

  Exactly.

  And that’s why I wanted to do it.

  “Ready…and…action!”

  Everyone around us started screaming at the top of their lungs and took off at a sprint.

  I glanced up at Dawson with an expression of challenge on my face. “Catch me if you can.”

  I started to run.

  And scream.

  And wave my arms around like a looney toon off her meds.

  “Oh, that’s how you want to play, huh?” came Dawson’s voice from beside me. Guess he was faster than I’d given him credit for. “Fine. If you want crazy, I’ll give you crazy.”

  He let out a thunderous roar, startling me, and zig-zagged through the hoard of people running for their lives. I watched with rapt attention as he leapt over piles of trash and debris, effortlessly dodging other extras as if he knew exactly what he was doing.

  I started to crack up but immediately schooled my features. The cameras were rolling, and I had no idea where they were focused. Laughing would not be appropriate in a scene like this.

  I continued to follow my fellow cast members down the street when all of a sudden, I saw Dawson standing on top of a car, pounding his chest like Tarzan.

  I halted in my tracks, causing a few people to bump into me. He bent over a small fire and lit the end of a two-by-four on fire. Holding it up like a torch, he turned to face the crowd, many of whom had stopped to watch him, apparently forgetting their roles.

  “We will not be oppressed by tyranny any longer!” he bellowed, the volume of his voice easily carrying through the staged chaos. “We will not live under persecution! Rise up and join me, and we will destroy the evils that subjugate us!”

  Silence.

  What the hell was he saying?

  We didn’t even know what this movie was supposed to be about. Though it didn’t really matter. Everyone’s eyes were glued to Dawson, transfixed to his fierce, warrior-like stance, the fire held above his head. Even the crew members were frozen in place.

  Then…battle cries.

  The crowd erupted in cheers and shouts, and everyone once again stampeded down the street.

  I just stood there, shock and awe locking up my muscles. The whole thing was so out of character for him.

  I think I had just fallen in love with the man.

  So what if I’d only known him about seventy-two hours.

  When he took on a challenge, he went full-force, no-holds-barred.

  You held onto a man like that.

  So, I joined in with the raucous shouting, savoring the brief moment where I could be someone—anyone—else.

  After I reached the end of the street and the director yelled, “Cut!” I found Dawson leaning against a building with his arms crossed, a smug grin stretched across his face.

  “I’m officially impressed,” I said.

  He looked back toward the set, a dreamlike expression covering his features. “I always dreamed of having a Braveheart moment.”

  If only he’d ripped his shirt off.

  When he turned back to me, he looked far more serious than before. “Thanks for that.”

  My pleasure.

  Chapter Six

  Dawson

  Hot damn.

  If I didn’t know better, I’d say I was falling for this girl.

  Despite the fact that she still couldn’t admit The Pie Guys made the best pizza in the world.

  It was close to two o’clock in the morning by the time we arrived back at Mickie’s dorm, and I was still riding the high I’d been on all night. Between the ziplining, fulfilling a childhood fantasy, eating some damn good pizza, and being with the most incredible girl I’d ever met, I couldn’t wipe the goofy smile off my face if I tried.

  Best. Day. Ever.

  “All right, I’ll concede that The Pie Guys make some incredible sauce,” she said after I parked my truck in her dorm lot. “But they’ve still got a long way to go with their crust to beat Fabrizio’s.”

  I faked a sigh. “It seems I’ve still got some work to do then. But I have faith in you. You’ll see the light soon enough.”

  She giggled and I swear my dick almost punched through my jeans.

  We hadn’t kissed since that first night outside her dorm, and I was dying. My control was slipping. I needed something to hold me over before my desire for her consumed me and I lost it. But the last thing I wanted to do was move too fast, get too rough and freak her out.

  I knew she was inexperienced.

  How inexperienced I had yet to figure out.

  “I say for our next date, we sneak our way onto the set of a music video,” she said. “Or go skydiving.”

  I laughed. That was getting much easier to do. At least around her.

  “You’re a regular Evel Knievel. Whatever happened to dinner and a movie?”

  Not that I knew anything about such things.

  “Those are good, too,” she replied, nodding her head. “But you have to keep things fun. Interesting. Spontaneous.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever been described as being spontaneous.”

  She scooted across the bench, bringing her petite body closer to me. “Well, you kept things spontaneous today.” She placed her hand on my thigh, slowly stroking up and down. “And interesting.” Her lips touched the heated skin of my neck, and my eyes rolled back in my head. “And fun.” Her tongue left a trail across my jawline.

  Fuck me.

  With a low growl, I crushed her mouth under my lips.

  Her moan was the sweetest gift to my ears.

  The girl was completely oblivious to how fiercely she turned me on. And when her hands snaked under my T-shirt, I about swallowed my tongue. Her fingers were cool against my flesh, seeking in their innocent exploration.

  God, I wanted to show her things.

  Everything.

  Wanted to show her all that I could do to her body. Make her taste her own arousal on my lips. Coax her to drown in the most intense pleasure of her life.

  All at my hands. And my lips. And my tongue.

  And my dick.

  Was she ready for that? I guess I’d soon find out.

  I pushed her jacket off her shoulders, and yanked the strap of her tank top down. I smothered her caramel skin in open-mouth kisses, licking across every delicious inch of her rich silkiness. Her breath hitched when I reached the swell of her breast.

  But she didn’t stop me when I shoved her top down.

  Nor when I palmed her breast, slowly easing her bra cup down with my fingers.

  I released her lips so I could watch her when I finally caressed her puckered nipple. Her eyes were still closed, and her breath was stilted. I could tell she was lost to the sensation as I circled her tip with the pad of my finger.

  I thought I would come in my jeans when I lowered my gaze and took in the sight of her naked flesh in my hand.

  She was so goddamn beautiful.

  “I want you,” I whispered against her parted lips. “So fucking much.”

  Her eyes shot open.

  There was lust there, no question. Mixed with a little bit of nervousness.

  “Dawson, I…” She swallowed, her eyes searching mine. “I’ve never done this before.”

  I’d thought as much.

  I’d never had a virgin before. I was overwhelmed with joy that Mickie, a girl who I was feeling incredibly possessive of, had never had another man inside her. I was also aching with the need to be the one man to claim that part of her.

  But more than anything, I wanted to make it special for her.

  I didn’t often have the opportunity to make anything special, for anyone.

  Mickie was important. She deserved to have an out-of-this-world experience for her first time. And q
uite frankly, I deserved to finally have something good in my life.

  “It’s okay,” I told her. “We’ll take this slow. I’ll wait until you’re ready.”

  She kissed me and licked along the seam of my lips like she was sucking on candy. “I’m ready now.”

  Oh, baby…

  “Don’t say that,” I said on a groan. “I’m not going to fuck you for the first time in the cab of my truck.”

  Although she moaned in frustration, she knew I was right.

  “But I will make you come for me.”

  She seemed to be okay with that. Especially when my lips latched onto her breasts, my tongue flicking over her nipple. She squirmed under the onslaught of my oral ministrations, her body arching toward me, seeking more of my mouth.

  I sucked at her flesh, leaving my mark on her smooth skin. When I switched to the other breast, she couldn’t contain her appreciation.

  “Dawson…Wow.” Her hand flew to the back of my head, her fingers grasping tightly to the strands of my hair. “More. I need more.”

  I knew exactly what she needed.

  My fingers sought the button of her shorts and quickly ripped them open. My breath was coming out in pants as my fingers plunged beneath her panties and found her moist heat just waiting for me.

  “Oh, fuck.” I rubbed her slick pussy lips, stimulating her clit. “You’re so hot for this right now. Aren’t you, baby?”

  “Mmm...yes.”

  She had no goddamn idea what she was in for.

  My finger entered her slowly, first one, then two.

  Christ, but she was tight.

  “Oh, my God!”

  I worked my fingers in and out of her, not too hard or too deep. I knew the friction would be enough to get her off, and I didn’t want to hurt her.

  But holy shit, the soft whimpers coming from her mouth were making me want to mount her right then and there. Fuck her over and over until she had no voice left.

  “That’s right,” I whispered against her neck. “Give it to me. Let yourself feel what I do to you. Get lost in it.”

  Her screams rang in my ears when she clenched around me and catapulted into bliss. Her hands were gripping my shirt so desperately I thought she might rip it. Not that I would mind.

  She could rip anything off me she fucking wanted.

  I laid kisses over every inch of exposed skin I could find. In part because I couldn’t help myself. And in part because I was showing her my gratitude. For giving me her pleasure. For trusting me enough to let me do that.

  When she had caught her breath and released her hold on me, I straightened her clothing and placed a final kiss on her forehead.

  “But what about you?” she asked, her voice so innocent and pure. “Don’t you need to…?”

  I kissed her again. “I’ll be fine. I promise.”

  I ran my fingers through her mass of curls. I loved to pull them down and watch them spring back to their original form. In a way, they reminded me of Mickie herself. Bouncy and full of life.

  “Have I told you how much I love your hair?”

  She scoffed, clearly not believing me. “It’s a frizzy mess. I can’t ever do anything with it. Some days I just want to chop it all off.”

  I framed her face in my hands, making her look at me. “It’s sexy as hell,” I said. “Don’t ever cut it.”

  Her lips spread into a coy smile. “You sure I can’t convince you to come upstairs? Whitney’s at her parents’ house for the weekend.”

  “Trust me, I want that more than anything.” She didn’t realize how much. “But I don’t think I’d be able to control myself tonight.”

  She looked like she wanted to protest, but she eventually nodded in acceptance. “So, I’ll see you soon?”

  “As soon as fucking possible.”

  Chapter Seven

  Mickie

  “Okay, I know that beer is an acquired taste,” I said after managing to swallow my last disgusting sip. “But I’m pretty sure I’m physically incapable of accomplishing that feat.”

  “Come on,” Dawson chided. “You haven’t even given it a real shot.”

  I waved around to the dozens of tents and booths scattered around Winston Park. Thanks to a fake ID Whitney had procured for me, I’d managed to secure my way into today’s festivities.

  “We’ve been here for two hours, I’ve tried over ten different kinds of beers, and they’ve all tasted the same.”

  “Uh, amazing?” he prompted.

  “Uh, like cat urine.”

  He put his hands over both of his ears, covering them like ear muffs.

  “What are doing?” I asked.

  “I’m making sure my ears aren’t bleeding,” he answered, forcing me to roll my eyes. “Hey, you said you wanted a full college experience,” he added, guiding me through the crowd with his hand on my lower back. “Not that I’m an expert in the area, but I’d assume that getting drunk at Oktoberfest would be something a normal college student would do.”

  I quirked an eyebrow. “Are you saying you’re trying to get me drunk?”

  He chuckled darkly, the sound sending a tingling sensation down to the Area None Have Traveled.

  Well, except for Dawson’s fingers. They’d been there a few times in the last couple of months.

  Because he was now officially my boyfriend.

  Boyfriend.

  I now had one of those.

  And although we hadn’t done “the deed” yet, I didn’t feel pressured. Sure, I wanted to, but he had been far more understanding than I would have ever expected a guy to be. Especially a guy of his age, who I was sure had had many a bed partner over the years.

  I hoped I didn’t disappoint him when we eventually did do it.

  “Baby, I don’t need to get you drunk in order to take advantage of you,” he murmured in my ear.

  I chuckled into my cup of beer. I had no idea why I was still drinking it. Sewer water was a more apt description.

  “True. You can’t take advantage of the willing. And drunk or not, I would be.”

  He wrapped his arms around me from behind and squeezed me into him. “Mmm. For a virgin, you have a downright filthy mind.”

  I turned my head, bringing our faces close together. “Guess I’ve been hanging around you too much. You’ve corrupted me.”

  He grinned. “That’s the plan.”

  Something occurred to me right then. “You’ve been a lot of my firsts, you know.”

  His forehead creased. “What do you mean?”

  I held up my fingers, ticking off each point. “The first time I smoked pot, the first time I got drunk, the first time I had se—” I snapped my mouth shut, shyness overcoming me. “Well, we haven’t gotten that far yet. But you’ll be the first…”

  “Damn right I will be,” he said firmly.

  God, I loved when he got all demanding on me.

  “But I don’t know if those are all good things,” he said in a more somber voice.

  “What does that mean?” I asked.

  “I mean…” He paused, appearing to be contemplating his words. “You’d never done any of those things before. I just have to wonder…” His eyes snapped to meet mine, his expression fiercely intense. “Am I really corrupting you, Mick?”

  Oh, Dawson.

  If I had learned one thing about him over the last two months, it was that he had a very self-deprecating opinion about himself. And I wasn’t really sure why.

  He hadn’t shared much about his past, or his family, or how he’d grown up. In fact, he hadn’t shared much at all about his life, aside from his current job and the fact that he had two younger brothers. He’d heard my many tales of growing up with my aunt, uncle, and sister in a middle-class neighborhood in Jersey.

  But he’d been pretty closed-mouthed.

  I could only discern that meant there weren’t many pleasant stories.

  Not that it mattered to me.

  Because I wanted to know all of them. I wanted to know everything ab
out Dawson, inside and out. Though, I suspected it was going to take some work.

  I held his eye contact when I responded. “Of course, you’re not. I’m finally living my life like a normal eighteen-year-old girl. I told you I wanted to branch out when I got to college. Broaden my horizons. You’ve helped me do that. Not hindered me from it.”

  There were still thoughts swirling around in his eyes, but he remained silent.

  Cheering suddenly broke out in a nearby booth where a crowd had gathered. The banner hanging above the tent said, “BEER PONG TOURNAMENT $10 ENTRY FEE.”

  I looked at Dawson, he looked at me.

  “No,” he growled at the same time that I squealed, “Yes!”

  “You just said you don’t even like beer,” he said as I dragged him over to the registration table.

  “Yes, but you do, and I happen to be an excellent shot.” I looked up from filling out the form and gave him my “Mickie means business” face. “The winners get a $200 gift card to Dave and Buster’s. I’ll take one for the team and drink some cat urine for $200 to Dave and Buster’s.”

  He immediately looked to the woman working the registration desk. “Another form here, please. I’m with her.”

  I stood there gazing at him with a satisfied grin.

  He glanced up. “What? I’d do anything for some D and B’s.”

  My grin turned devious. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Chapter Eight

  Mickie

  “How late is Dave and Buster’s open?” I asked as Dawson and I stumbled down the sidewalk in search of drunk food.

  And by that I mean greasy, calorie-heavy, soak-up-all-the-alcohol-we-drank, carb-loaded foods. Cheeseburgers. Tacos. Chili cheese fries. The usual.

  “Pretty sure not this late,” he answered.

  He wasn’t stumbling as much as me because he had a way higher tolerance than I did. But the goofy grin he’d had on his face for the past hour told me he was feeling pretty good.

  Oh, and we’d won the tournament.

  2006 Oktoberfest Beer Pong Champions, right here.

  We even had the T-shirts to prove it.

  So, that was the reason for the drunk food scavenger hunt.

  “But I think I have an even better idea,” he announced and pointed to a storefront that had an “Open” sign in the window.