by A. Marie
“Come here.”
A moody Beckett is hot as fuck, a demanding Beckett is beyond. Beyond thought. Beyond words. Beyond reason.
That’s what I tell myself when my feet move before my head can even make the decision.
Within reach, he slips a hand up my neck and into my hair before gripping a handful. I hiss at the pain that hurts in the best way possible, his cloudy eyes locking on my mouth as the sound escapes.
“What were you thinking about?” His husky whisper travels over my face, hypnotizing me like a shady snake charmer in a back alley.
With his hold at the back of my head feeling like it’s gripping more than just my hair, I work, I fight, I all out scrap for the smallest bit of control still, needing it more than the shoes on my feet atop scorching asphalt.
“You know,” I goad quietly, not breaking eye contact for a second. To show dominance you must look your opponent in the eye without wavering and I do just that. Bossy is cute and all but that doesn’t mean he’s in charge and it’ll do him well to remember that.
“Why are you fucking with me?” It comes out strangled and raw. Exposed.
I open my mouth to ask the same thing but a whimper comes out instead as the hand in my hair tightens, drawing me closer so my body is flush with his much like this morning in his room. That was next to his bed and yet this somehow feels more intimate. More dangerous.
I’m ready to throw in the towel and ride him instead of my motorcycle but that’s what scares me. He’s too tempting. His moods—the indifference half the time and the intense awareness the other half—they shouldn’t appeal to me the way they do. My loved ones take precedence over everything else, whereas the rest of the world could burn to the ground and I wouldn’t even notice. At some point Beckett stepped over that line and has been straddling the damn thing ever since.
Do I care about the guy or not?
The more important question is—should I?
Everything is going wrong and while it’s tempting to feel something that may be right, I’m not naïve enough to believe being with Beckett is right in any way. The guy is a manwhore with a superiority complex. Taking him down a few pegs is all I should keep this as, not invite him to equal footing.
Last night was one peg and I’m willing to bet he could down go a couple more. Easily.
With shaky hands, I grip his thighs—overly sensitive thighs—and squeeze as I bring my face in close to his. He bends to meet me halfway, our noses bumping from the momentum. Lips hovering an inch apart, I swipe my tongue across his seam and, as expected, his eagerness gets the better of him as he ducks down for more. Remembering his hold in my hair, I’m forced to lean my head back in order to avoid losing chunks of my beloved locks. His mouth clashes with my chin but instead of discouraging the guy like I’d hoped, he uses it to his advantage. He gives my chin a sweet peck before trailing his tongue lower to my throat. I can barely make out greedy moans and frenzied kissing over my own labored breathing. The pain behind my head as he grips my strands vigorously mixes with the pleasure of his ravenous caresses on my neck and I curse my stupid plan to tease him.
I severely underestimated Beckett.
That thought, and any other, disappear as his other hand cups my face, tilting it to the side. My body, no longer following my orders but his, does as its told, complying effortlessly. Beckett’s lips graze my sensitive skin, landing just below my ear, causing a ground shaking shiver. Fighting my own traitorous body is futile, so I accept the tremble for what it is. Who am I to deny my body what it wants and what Beckett clearly wants to give it? The guy knows what he’s doing. I should just let him do it and be on my way, one orgasm happier.
“It was you, on your back, tits in the air, begging for me to taste their rosy tips.”
The unexpected words have my eyes snapping open only to see movement across the lot. I chock it up to hallucinating from Beckett’s swirling tongue on the shell of my ear and tune back in. Seriously, the guy is talented.
“Legs spread, pussy glistening, aching for me to fill it.”
Said legs nearly buckle as I see a form approach that isn’t a mirage at all.
“Your mouth, parted and gasping, begging me to fuck you.”
My panties are drenched, most likely soaking my shorts by now.
“But the part that made me come harder than any other chick has ever been able to milk out of my cock was when I walked away, leaving you a fucking mess, wishing you could actually keep my attention for longer than the two minutes it took for you to make yourself come.”
What?
All at once he releases his hold on my body, sending me a few feet back. With my mind hostage in a serious loop of what the fuck, I gape open mouthed at him. Where did that come from?
I can tell by the bulge in his pants that he’s as affected as I am but his harsh words were delivered with lethal amounts of spite, not wanting.
“Paige?”
Hearing my name jolts me back to reality.
Parking lot. Dickish roommate. Brother’s best friend.
Right.
Dixon is standing so close I can hear him grinding the molars I know are chockfull of fillings from never flossing. One time he was the first to fall asleep at our house—a huge mistake—and my brothers and I tied him to the bed with dental floss. We used every shred we could find and our house smelled like cinnamon burst for weeks afterward, but it didn’t help. He still refused to floss after that.
I was just getting felt up—kind of—in front of his bar’s parking lot, in broad daylight, by my hot/cold/but still super hot roommate. This should be fun.
“Hey, Dixon. How’s it hangin’?” I joke, surreptitiously rubbing at my neck, trying to rid the feel of Beckett’s lips.
“Don’t even try it,” he replies then asks, “who the hell is this?”
He jerks his chin at Beckett who’s suddenly very interested in what keeps my attention. His helmet’s now in place over his head but the visor is flipped open as he stares at Dixon like he’s found a new opponent. He’s stock-still, save for his hand. The one closest to me. It’s shaking like a junkie coming down from a high and I have this sneaking suspicion it’s to grab something. Someone.
Me? Dixon?
Dixon has the scary bit down pat from running a rowdy bar but he’s like one of my brothers—minus the ignoring me part. He was there to talk some sense into Jesse every time the boys would try to enforce another idiotic rule in the house that magically only affected me.
This is awkward on a whole other level and I don’t even know what to say or how to say it. Do I introduce Beckett as my roommate? My arch-nemesis? The guy I want to fuck into next week mainly because this week has had enough disappointment? I can only take rejection at the hands of a man so many times before the pain sticks. And spreads.
I point at Beckett, squinting. “It’s Jake, right?”
Dixon recognizes the inside joke right away and bites his lips together, trying not to let me off the hook but I see it and I smile over at him. Beckett obviously doesn’t understand the insurance commercial reference. That was our go-to greeting for the many bill collectors that would call the house. Everyone knows Jake. Except Beckett, I guess. He’s scowling like he forgot to eat a meal and doesn’t think he’ll achieve his proper gains for the day.
Too bad.
Dixon’s face finally softens, the tenderness reminding me of the affection I’ve been depraved of in recent months. What I’ve been craving but pushed aside for everyone else’s benefit. The shitstorm I’ve been digging my way through has been a cold and lonely endeavor and Dixon’s warm expression has me almost running to him. Almost, because my legs are still a little wobbly after Beckett’s sweet and sour treatment. But I make it there anyway, falling into Dixon’s open arms.
I hear Beckett huff, “Fuck this, I’m out.”
Tiny pebbles from his back tire kick up as he peels out and a few pelt us as Dixon pulls away from me. A warm hand slides into mine while we watch Becke
tt fly out of the lot.
“That was odd. Who’s the drama queen?”
I grimace. “My roommate. He hates me.”
I’m not sure if it was at first sight or a gradual thing but the man can’t stand me. If he’s not scaring off possible hook-ups, he’s being a massive asshole. A masshole, really.
“Hmm, I’m not sure I believe that. What I saw out here didn’t look like hate. Although, I have found that hate sex is often the most passionate. So many feelings you don’t know what to do with, so many emotions you can’t voice, it all pours out into one intense,” he clears his throat and I scowl, “uh, session.”
I shove his arm, hiding my smirk. Session? So lame.
“So, roommate, huh? Did the Christensen gang meet him yet?”
“Not really.” I shrug. “I don’t spend a lot of time there and the boys, well, they haven’t been around much lately either.”
He grows serious as we turn for his bar. Xen’s is a combination of the end of his first name and the end of our last name. He really is like a brother.
“What do you know that I don’t, Dicky?”
Dixon tries to ruffle my hair but I knock him in the stomach, thwarting his attack. Some things never change.
“Keep it down. You’ll ruin my street cred.”
“You have no street cred.”
“Ha! Are those fumes killing your brain cells?” He nods over to my bike.
So what if she smokes a little? Don’t all true bad girls?
“I just know you’re all going through a difficult time right now. It’s hard seeing my second family suffer, especially from the outside. I’m not in the thick of it with you but it hurts just the same, I swear. I wish there was more I could do.”
I exhale, long and low. “Jesse’s pulling away because he feels powerless and can’t fix the problem. Caleb is using work as a scapegoat because he doesn’t know where he fits in, not with Jesse avoiding his usual role. He’s second in command and always has been. Taking the lead is unfathomable to him so he doesn’t even try. With any of us. He and Jesse aren’t even speaking last I heard. Tysen has his own shit to take care of and he doesn’t know how to spread himself around for everybody else, least of all Mom.” Or me, I think selfishly. “Nick is inherently self-absorbed, which will never change. He can’t separate Mom from her disease and gets pissed because of it.” My nose stings as I finish.
“And you?” he asks, wiping a tear from my cheek. “You’re acting out.”
“What?” I burst.
“I didn’t want to say anything but your drinking is…bad. It’s getting worse. Last time you were here I had to pay someone to take you home just to get you to stop drinking and last night I had to break up two fights you were involved in. And still pay someone to take you home.”
I narrow my eyes. “So, that’s why he was so adamant on getting me to my door. It wasn’t to sleep with me, it was because big brother Dixon paid him.”
“You’re welcome.”
I wave him off. I appreciate the lift but I could’ve and would’ve taken care of myself.
“It was the safest way to make sure your drunk ass made it home okay. I couldn’t take you myself since you threw a drink on one of my bussers.”
“He was awful. You should fire him.”
“I did. But you didn’t need to do that.”
“Yes, I did. I watched him untie a girl’s halter top when she was dancing.”
“What about the woman with her boyfriend?”
He pins me with a look that says gotcha while I pick something off my shoulder.
“She said I didn’t belong,” I mumble purposely.
“What was that?”
I throw my hands up. “She said I didn’t belong, okay? She asked if I ate at the Y, then cackled to her friend that I should find a bar more fitting for ‘my kind.’ I simply offered her boyfriend tips on how to go down on his girlfriend since she was obviously asking random strangers for head. She’s lucky I didn’t beat her ass.”
“That’s it? So what? There’s nothing wrong with eating pussy.”
“Exactly. Some of my favorite people eat pussy.” My grin splits my face in half, glad we’re not using the term ‘session’ anymore.
“Then why does it matter if she said you did? I mean, you don’t, do you?”
“No, I don’t, but it’s not what she said, it’s how she said it. Like there was something wrong with me if I did. Who I choose to have sex with isn’t up for judgment by anyone, least of all some regular at a dive bar.”
“Hey.”
“Sorry,” I say, even though we both know I’m not far off. The place is two-thirds dive bar, one-third regular bar. More of an aspiring bar. “Still, she was a close-minded bitch.”
“Well, that doesn’t change the fact that they both had to be escorted out because of their fight that you caused. And since they were, in fact, regulars that means their business went with them.”
“Good. Maybe now you can get some better clientele.”
His face is that of a disapproving father to a petulant child. Talk about ungrateful.
My middle finger twitches.
“I get one night off a week. If I can’t go out and blow a little steam, I’ll explode. My job, the boys, my mom, it’s all too much. I’m doing it all alone and now I have this colossal roommate who’s in my face every time I’m home and I have nowhere else to go.” My voice cracks at the end and I bury my face in my hands. “I have nobody. I’m constantly surrounded by people, yet it feels like I’m the loneliest person in the world.”
“Don’t say that. You’re breaking my heart here, kid. You’re not alone. Ever.” Could’ve fooled me. “And you’re always welcome to come stay with me. Have you tried talking to any of them?”
Them meaning my brothers. The ones that are currently treating me to radio silence. As the communicator of the family, it’s the easiest way to isolate me and drive me insane one missed call at a time.
I shake my head, wiping at my nose.
“Well, you know I love you like my own sister.”
Dixon wraps me in a bear hug and I snuggle in, desperate for real contact, not the kind Beckett and I exchange as punishment.
“You don’t have a sister,” I mumble against his chest.
“But if I did, I’d want her to be just like you. Except without a smart mouth, or a penchant for finding trouble, or a drinking problem.” I pull back to glare at him. “A one day a week drinking problem,” he clarifies and I allow it because he’s not wrong per se. “Otherwise, yeah, just like you.”
His words have the desired effect and I end up smirking despite myself. What a jerk.
I missed him.
“About this roommate…do you want anything done about that?”
Cranking my neck, I look him in the eye. “Like what? Did you join the mafia or something?”
“No, but I know people. Or one simple phone call and I know the Christensen boys would show up swinging.”
“One call from you maybe.”
He looks at me pointedly and I know what he’s saying, but crying to my brothers would only cause more problems. They’d force me to move out and think they have a say over my life again. I have to find some sort of happy medium where all four brothers are in my life without them ruling my decisions.
As for Beckett, some space might be good for us. His spiel today was flat out vindictive but I’ve done my fair share of riling him up, too. I’m not innocent by any means. Being at each other’s throats, literally, is wearing me down even if I’d never admit it to him. Living with four older brothers, you learn to concede only when it benefits you.
So, I take Dixon up on his offer to stay with him and for the rest of the day I help out at Xen’s until my own shift at Sunbrook, pushing everything else from my mind.
Everything but that mouth of Beckett’s. Whispered threats disguised as empty promises that’ll stay with me for a very long time.
Which is one reason why I’m backing
off for a while—I need a place I won’t remember, not somewhere I’ll never forget.
CHAPTER 12
Paige
“Get out of here,” I whisper harshly. “No, please. Please, don’t touch me.”
Remind me never to stay with Dixon again. The guy has ferrets. Plural. Basically two vermin that roam freely around the house, hiding in the couch cushions waiting to pop out as you walk by, and sneak your things right out from under you. They also love to rub against you like goddamn cats. I may not have had an allergy to ferrets when I first got here a few days ago but I damn well have one now. Every time the stretched out rats touch me, I itch the rest of the day.
I have work later though and I’m down to my last pair of scrubs so I’m extra wary of them touching me today. Dixon takes his laundry to his mom’s house, no joke, for her to wash but I refuse to make another woman clean my underwear. Although Dixon’s always been like family, I never saw him in his own element, and now that I have I’m starting to see him in a whole new light. A smelly, lazy light that flickers from underuse.
Gin rubs on my left leg while Tonic tries to sneak up the opening on my right pants leg. As soon as I feel her soft fur touch my leg I start itching.
“Damn you!” I grit, finally scaring the critters away.
“What happened?”
I’m sniffling and massaging my irritated eyes with the palms of my hands when Dixon comes into the kitchen, looking fresh as a daisy.
“Your pets got their allergens all over me. I can’t go to work like this.” I motion to my entire body.
“You look fine.”
Typical.
How else are we supposed to say it? If we don’t feel good, we don’t look good. Period. Looking fine has nothing to do with it.
“How are you getting to work anyway?”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s pouring outside. Just started up but it’s supposed to rain all night. It should be a crazy one, too. We’re hosting a storm party and serving Slippery Nipples and Dark & Stormies for half price.”