12. Dex

dex

. . .

The number of times today I’d thought about rubbing that beer bottle on Winnie’s lips last night was obscene.

Fuck, it was obscene that I’d done it.

Even more obscene that I’d gotten into bed and jerked off afterward, fantasizing my cock was that bottle.

I’d been mad at myself all day. I’d gone over there to fucking apologize for being a dick, and somehow I’d ended up being one again, even without putting my hands on her or saying a goddamn thing.

And what the hell was I doing out here on the patio again?

What , argued a voice in my head. Can’t a guy have a beer on his patio without feeling guilty about it?

I frowned. Sure, he could. But why did I keep thinking about her? Glancing over toward her place? Listening for her to come home after work?

It was late—where was she? Meeting some selfish prick for dinner or drinks? Would she bring him back here and share a cupcake with him ten feet from me?

Don’t mind him , I imagined her saying to some twenty-five-year-old pin-dick fuckwit who owned a Rolex and multiple pairs of plaid shorts. That’s just the grouchy old man next door. He’s harmless.

I took another long swallow to wash down the jealousy. I’ll finish this beer , I told myself, and if she doesn’t come out here, I’ll go inside and forget about her for good.

Realistically, I knew I’d probably go in and get myself off thinking about her again, but whatever.

A moment later, the light came on in her place, her sliding door opened, and she stepped outside holding a plastic pitcher. After closing the door behind her, she began to water her plants. She wore a dress tonight, something short and flowery with skinny straps that showed off her shoulders, and her hair was up. Her feet were bare, and I wondered if she’d taken off her high heels after a date.

“Hey,” I said, standing up from my chair.

“Oh, hey,” she said, giggling nervously. “I didn’t see you there.”

“We need to stop meeting like this,” I joked.

“Nah. It’s always a nice surprise.” She gave me a smile that tightened my chest. “How was your day?”

“Good. How was yours? Any double bookings?”

“No, thank heavens. It was a perfectly boring day at reception.”

“Glad to hear it.” I leaned against the brick wall. “Do you always work this late?”

“No, I’m not coming from work just now. I was at Abelard meeting with my friend Ellie about an event we’re planning together. I’m really excited about it.”

“Tell me,” I said, happy she hadn’t been out with a guy.

She laughed nervously as she emptied the pitcher. “You don’t want to hear about that.”

“I asked, didn’t I?”

Straightening up, she turned toward me. “Okay. Want to sit down?”

I knew I should say no and get the fuck inside. But I heard myself say, “Sure. Why don’t you come sit on my patio this time? My furniture isn’t as nice as yours, but it’s my turn to host.”

She laughed and set her watering can down on the table. “Okay.”

“Can I get you a beer?”

“No, thanks.” She stopped at the edge of my little patio and gasped. “You decorated!”

“Hardly.” I glanced at the insect repellent candle. “But it’s so muggy out here after the rain last night, I knew the mosquitoes would be bad.”

“Let me turn off my light so it won’t attract them.” She hurried back to her place, switched off the light, and returned. The lights in my living room were already off, so it was completely dark except for the small yellow flame flickering on the table. I took a sip of my beer, and she crossed her legs in my direction.

“So what are you and your friend planning?”

“A wine tasting dinner,” she said, and proceeded to tell me all about it.

I listened, but I couldn’t have repeated one thing she said, because I was so conscious of her body and how close it was to mine. The way the candlelight brought out the gold in her hair. The way it might feel in my hands or trailing across my chest. I finished my beer and stared at the mouth of the bottle, wondering about the sounds she might make if I buried my tongue between her legs.

“Dex?”

I realized she’d asked me something, and I looked at her quickly. “Sorry, what?”

“God, I’ve been talking too much. I probably just bored you to pieces.”

“Not at all,” I told her. “I just got distracted for a minute.”

She glanced at the bottle in my hands. “What were you thinking about?”

The words came out before I could stop them. “Something I want to do but can’t.”

“Can’t?”

“ Shouldn’t .”

A moment passed in complete silence, and I thought I’d gone too far. She stood up.

But instead of walking back to her place like I thought she might, she blew out the candle and stood in front of me. Then she reached for the bottle and set it at my feet.

I looked up at her. Without saying anything, she climbed onto my lap, one knee on either side of my thighs. I held my breath and gripped the arms of the chair.

She placed her palms on my chest. Locked eyes with me. “Something like this?”

My voice was nowhere to be found.

She leaned over and pressed her lips to the side of my neck. “Or like this?”

My cock was surging to life beneath her.

She moved one hand down to my crotch and rubbed the bulge in my jeans as her mouth swept up to my ear. “Or maybe like this?” she whispered.

My fingers curled around the edges of the plastic chair arms. “You should stop.”

“Why?”

“It’s dangerous to play with fire. And with firefighters.”

She laughed softly, switching her mouth to my other ear, nipping my earlobe with her teeth. “But it might be fun.”

I groaned as my cock continued to swell under her hand, my strength depleting with every stroke.

She kissed my cheekbone, my temple, my jaw. “Do you want me to stop?” she asked, her breath soft on my skin.

“What I want isn’t the point.”

“Then let’s focus on what I want.” She reached for the button on my jeans and I grabbed her wrist.

“Don’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re too fucking beautiful to resist and too damn young for me to touch.”

“Dex.” She took my hand and brought it to her breast. “I want you to touch me.”

Beneath the thin material of her dress, her nipple was temptingly hard. I teased it with my thumb and she sucked in her breath.

With my other hand I cradled the back of her neck and pulled her mouth to mine. I slid my fingers into her hair and clenched my fist, making her gasp.

I let go of her breast and locked my arm around her waist like a thick iron chain. “This is what it’s like to be with me,” I warned her, my lips hot against hers. “I’m not gentle.”

“I don’t care,” she panted. “I want this.”

Without another word, I put my hands beneath her and stood up, taking her with me. She locked her legs around my waist and I moved quickly for the door.

Inside, I was too impatient to take her upstairs to my bedroom, so I lowered myself onto the couch. She straddled my legs again, and this time I put my hands under her dress, sliding them up her thighs and gripping her ass.

She put her hands in my hair and her tongue in my mouth and rocked her hips over mine, grinding against me. Inside a minute, she was attempting to lift my shirt over my head and I took my hands off her just long enough to whip it off and toss it aside.

“Oh, God,” she murmured, running her hands over my bare chest. “You feel exactly like I thought you would.”

“Hairy?” I pushed her dress up her thighs.

She laughed and reached between my legs. “Hard.”

This time when she undid my pants, I didn’t stop her. When she slipped her hand inside and freed my cock, I didn’t stop her. When she wrapped her fingers around me and stroked me from root to tip, I didn’t stop her.

And she didn’t stop me from easing my hand inside the edge of her underwear. Or softly rubbing my fingertips over her clit. Or slipping one finger inside her as deeply as I could. She was warm and wet, and when she began to move over my hand, my patience ran out completely. I had to get inside her.

Yanking my hand from her underwear, I grabbed her by the waist and set her down beside me on the couch. “Don’t move.”

Racing up the stairs to my bedroom, I prayed to God I still had a condom somewhere, and that it wouldn’t take me all night to find it. I panicked when a frantic rummaging through my nightstand drawer turned up nothing, but luckily, I found a stray one in the second place I looked—my bathroom travel bag. Snatching it up, I bolted back down the stairs three at a time.

She was sitting exactly where I’d left her in the dark, but suddenly I had a fierce longing to see her, to watch her come undone beneath me. I pulled the vertical blinds across the sliding glass door and switched on a lamp.

Her cheeks, already flushed, grew even more pink. She looked up at me and smiled tentatively, looking so young and beautiful I almost couldn’t go through with it.

Almost.

I dropped to my knees at her feet, reached beneath her dress, and removed her underwear. Slipping my hands under her legs, I pulled her toward me and pushed her knees apart. She gasped. “What are you doing?”

“That thing I was thinking about earlier? It was fucking you with my tongue.”

Her jaw dropped, and I lowered my head between her thighs.

She moaned as I caressed her pussy with my tongue, long slow strokes that had her hands clawing the edge of the cushions. Her taste was pure sweetness, and I devoured her like I was scared someone would take my plate away before I was finished.

“Oh my God,” she whimpered as I sucked her clit. “That feels so good. The room is spinning.”

As her sounds grew more needy, her hands moved into my hair. I slipped two fingers inside her. My cock ached with jealousy as her body tensed up and she grew even wetter. Her fingers curled into fists and she cried out with abandon as the climax shuddered through her.

The moment her hands unclenched in my hair, I stood up, shoved my pants down my legs, felt around on the floor for where I’d dropped the condom, and tore it open with my teeth. She watched me roll it on, her breath coming hard and fast.

Dropping to my knees again, I roped an arm around her waist and hauled her onto the floor. Stretching out above her, I positioned the tip of my cock at the warm, wet place between her thighs and eased inside her. She gasped and clutched at my shoulders.

I threw her arms above her head, pinning her wrists to the rug. “Told you I wasn’t gentle,” I growled, rocking my hips in slow but deep, hard thrusts that made her cry out with shock or pain or both.

She fought back a little, struggling to get her arms free, but I was bigger and stronger, and I took pleasure in overpowering her. I hadn’t even taken the time to get her naked, but somehow her little flowered dress only made my blood run hotter and my instincts dirtier. Had she worn it on purpose, knowing I’d be unable to resist her? For a second, I imagined coming all over that pretty dress—so that she’d never wear it again without thinking about what I’d done to her.

This was all her fault.

“You knew what you were doing.” I moved over her in a rough, unceasing rhythm.

“Huh?” She sounded breathless and confused.

“You knew just how to do it.” I changed the angle, plunging even deeper inside her. “How to make me want you this way. How to make me this hard.”

“Oh, God, Dex.” She struggled to speak. “You’re so big, it hurts.”

“Good.” I wanted to punish her for making me give in, for stealing my strength. “Maybe next time you’ll think twice before coming over here in a pretty little dress and putting your hands on my cock.”

I knew I was taking a risk talking to her like that—she was so fucking young and probably not that sexually experienced—but I couldn’t help it. If she slapped my face when it was over and told me she never wanted to fucking see me again, fine . I’d deserve it.

But actually, she seemed to like it. As she got used to my size, her body relaxed and she wrapped her legs around me, rocked her hips beneath me, whispered her own dirty little words.

Yes. Fuck me. Right there. So deep.

And my favorite —I’m not sorry.

She felt so fucking good. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d wanted someone this much, or needed the release so badly.

My skin was on fire. My muscles were tense. My body moved inside her with abandon, the heat gathering at the base of my spine. She called out my name, her voice breaking, her hips bucking up beneath me. The storm broke, crashing over me in roaring waves that made my world turn silver, my head echo with thunder, and my cock surge and throb as I released all the pent-up tension within.

When I could see again, I stared down at her, breathing hard. Her expression was something between exhilarated and shell-shocked. Releasing her wrists, I braced my hands above her shoulders. “Fuck. Are you okay?”

“I think so.” She laughed softly. “I can’t feel my arms. Are they still attached to my body?”

“Sorry I got so carried away.”

“You warned me it wouldn’t be gentle.” She smiled. “You were right—partly.”

“Partly?”

Her eyes gleamed wickedly. “You were gentle with your tongue.”

At the memory of her thighs open before me, my heart skipped a beat. Immediately I wondered when I could taste her again.

Withdrawing from her body, I stood, yanked up my jeans, and offered her a hand. She took it and rose to her feet, pushing her dress down. Her hair had come loose. “Could I use your bathroom?”

“Sure.”

She scooped up her underwear from the floor and disappeared into the small half-bath across from the kitchen, rubbing one wrist. Closing my eyes a second, I exhaled, hoping she wouldn’t wake up with bruises tomorrow. What the hell would she say if someone asked about them? Locating my shirt across the room where I’d flung it, I pulled it over my head and went upstairs.

In the master bathroom, I disposed of the condom, washed my hands, and put myself back together. When I came down again, she was sitting on the couch, her hair falling in soft waves around her shoulders. One arm was raised, and she was examining something on the side of her dress.

“Fuck,” I said, spotting the hole. “Did I rip your dress?”

“Yes, I think you did.”

I groaned. “God, I’m a dick. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine—it’s on the seam, so it can easily be stitched up.”

“Let me do it.”

She looked up at me in surprise. “Huh?”

“I’ll do it right now.” I headed for the stairs again. “Give me one minute to find a needle and thread.”

“You sew ?”

“Yes, I sew ,” I said, heading up the steps. “And I’m offended at your tone.”

She burst out laughing. “Sorry! You caught me by surprise, that’s all.”

It took me a few minutes to remember where I’d put the box my mother had given me with a tiny sewing kit in it, but I finally found it on the shelf in my closet. Tucking it under my arm, I grabbed a TCFD T-shirt from my dresser—sniffing it to make sure it was actually clean—and headed back downstairs.

“Here,” I said, handing her the shirt. “Give me the dress and put this on.”

She presented me with her back, lifting her hair off her neck. “Can you unzip it for me?”

I tossed my shirt on the couch and did as she asked, the intimate task sending a bolt of heat to my crotch. “I probably should have done this an hour ago, huh?”

“I mean, it might have saved you the trouble of sewing the rip, but then you wouldn’t have gotten to impress me with your hidden talent.” She grinned at me over one shoulder. “Although I’m learning you have several of those.”

Another bolt.

“Okay, you’re unzipped.”

Without turning around, she lowered the dress to her feet and stepped out of it, handing it over to me. But I stood there dumbfounded for a few seconds, distracted first by the gigantic faded bruise on her hip, and next by the barely-there, strappy black underwear she had on. I’d been so eager to get them off her, I hadn’t noticed them before.

“Jesus,” I said, staring like a schoolboy. “Do you always have things like that on under your clothes?”

“I’m not telling you,” she teased, pulling my T-shirt over her head. “You’ll just have to wonder about it every time you see me.”

I growled like a hungry bear. “Not. Fair.”

“Pretend you don’t see the bruise, okay?”

“Is that from your fall off the suitcase?”

“Yes.”

I touched her hip gingerly. “I’m sorry. I feel responsible.”

“You should.” She smoothed the front of my shirt over her chest. “Hey, you were wearing this shirt the day you moved in.”

“Was I?”

“Trust me on this.” She dropped onto the couch, tucking her legs beneath her. “I spent a ridiculous amount of time staring at your muscles out the front window. Now come on. I want to see you sew.”

Sitting down next to her, I opened the box. The dress had a black background, so I dug around for some black thread. It took me a few tries to get it through the eye of the needle, and Winnie giggled.

“Hey, listen,” I grumbled, tying a knot the way my mother taught me. “This isn’t easy for someone with big hands, okay?”

“You do have big hands,” she said, rubbing my leg. “But I like them. And I’m sorry I laughed. You’re just concentrating so hard, it’s adorable.”

I gave her a dirty look before turning the dress inside out. “ I am not adorable. I am manly and tough. Even when I’m sewing.”

“You are. And this is one hundred percent the hottest thing a guy has ever done for me.”

“Oh yeah?” I grinned as I began carefully mending the ripped seam with tight, even stitches.

“Definitely. Nothing else even comes close.” She watched me finish the job, tie a knot, and snip the thread.

Nervous, I turned the dress right side out and checked my work—probably not as good as my mother would have done, but the hole was gone and I couldn’t see evidence of crooked stitches.

I handed it over. “There you go. Sorry I ripped it.”

She took the dress from me and grinned. “Liar.”

“You’re right. I’m not sorry.” And she looked so cute in my shirt, I couldn’t resist pulling her onto my lap so she straddled my thighs once more. “In fact, put it on and I’ll rip it again. I’ll tear it to pieces this time. With my teeth.”

She laughed. “Easy, killer.”

“This is probably one of those red flags you were talking about, huh?” I slid my hands beneath the shirt to the sides of her ribcage.

“I don’t know,” she said, putting her hands on my chest. “No one’s ever torn my clothes before. Or pinned me down that way. Or said those kinds of things.”

“I guess even selfish assholes have better manners than me.”

She smiled. “I guess so. But it’s okay, because I’m not looking for a boyfriend this time, remember?”

“That’s right.” I recalled what she’d said last night. “You’re in rehab for your love addiction.”

“Exactly. So you can go right ahead and rip my clothes and pin me down and say all kinds of filthy things to me.”

I growled again, gripping her sides. “Don’t tempt me, little girl.”

“I’m serious.” She slid her palms to the back of my neck. “You can do all that and more, but don’t call me baby, don’t start believing in happily ever after, and definitely don’t bring me any more Frostys.”

“Never? Not even on your birthday?”

She shook her head. “Especially not on my birthday. Because then I would have to grow old with you, and neither of us wants that.”

I scowled. “Fuck that bullshit.”

“Then we agree. All in fun.” She smiled and leaned forward, kissing my lips. “I should go.”

I didn’t want her to leave, but I didn’t want to ask her to stay either. Like she said, this was all in fun—and as much fun as it would be to throw her over my shoulder, take her upstairs, and have my way with her in bed, spending the night together was something people in relationships did. This wasn’t that.

Thank God we were on the same page.

She stood up and traded my shirt for her dress, turning around so I could zip it for her. Again, she held her hair out of the way, and once the dress was zipped, I was tempted to press my lips to the back of her neck. Wrap my arms around her waist. Bury my face in her golden hair and breathe in deep.

But this wasn’t that.

This was never going to be that.

“Thanks,” she said, facing me again.

“No problem. I’ll walk you back.”

She laughed. “Dex, I live like fifteen feet away.”

But I followed her outside anyway. “I told you before, I’m a firefighter and a dad. Keeping people safe is my thing.”

On the patio, she gave me a quick hug. “Sleep tight.”

“See you,” I said, careful not to hold her.

She walked over to her place and slid the door open, then gave me a wave. “Night.”

“Night.” I watched her step inside and called out. “Hey.”

She leaned out and looked over at me. “What?”

“I had fun tonight.”

“Me too.”

“But I don’t love you.”

She burst out laughing. “I don’t love you either.”

“Good. Now stay off my patio or else.”

She blew me a kiss and disappeared inside.

I stood there for a moment, listening to my heart thump a little louder than it should.

Grabbing the empty beer bottle from the ground, I smiled as I remembered the way she’d taken it from me and climbed onto my lap.

She was trouble, all right.

But nothing I couldn’t handle.