I Knead You Tonight

by Hunter, Teagan

She’s not like me, just pretending. Drew truly loathes me, and she has no idea she’s playing with fire right now.

  So, I pull myself back, talking my dick down like I always do. I find the words to throw at her, the ones I know will send her into a rage.

  Ones that might even make her laugh.

  It’s my go-to.

  She’s a bitch to me, so I’m a dick right back.

  It’s how we work, how we’ve always worked.

  Why mess up a good thing?

  “Like you, Drew? No, I don’t like you. But I do like the way you stare at my cock.”

  Her mouth drops open and she sputters.

  “I-I-I—”

  “You what?” I taunt. “You like staring at my cock? Like the way it makes you feel?”

  She huffs, rolling her eyes. “Shut up.”

  “If you ask me nicely, I’ll let you touch it.”

  “Shut the fuck up, Winston!”

  “Why?” I laugh again. “Am I hitting too close to your deepest, darkest desires? Do you not hate me as much as you think you do?”

  “Oh, I do.”

  “Then why are your nipples hard right now? Someone like the idea of touching my cock?”

  She glances down. Realizing I’m right, she crosses her arms over her chest, achieving nothing but pushing her tits up higher. “It’s just cold out here.”

  “It’s sixty degrees.”

  “With a breeze,” she mumbles quietly, taking a step back, though it doesn’t help as much as she hoped. We’re still standing close to one another, so close I can smell her pear-scented perfume.

  So close I can feel her slide her legs together, trying to relieve the ache building between them.

  Drew can hate me all she wants.

  But her body doesn’t.

  “Tell me, Drew, is it really the breeze? Or are you thinking about how good it would feel for me to slide between your legs?”

  “Jesus, Winston.”

  “See? I already have you saying my name twice.” I wink.

  “Stop it. I don’t want to hear any more.”

  “Why? Because I’m right?”

  She snaps her heated gaze toward me, my words having come out harsher than I intended.

  “I—”

  A high-pitched shriek comes drifting through the open door and both our heads turn toward Riker.

  “Move.” She shoves at me. “I have to go get my son.”

  “Saved by the fucking bell,” I mutter as she hauls ass past me.

  I don’t know if I’m referring to her or myself.

  Slice Five

  Drew

  Sleep and I have a precarious relationship that we’re barely holding on to.

  Some nights, we’re grand. Others, we’re barely on speaking terms.

  Sure, a lot of that has to do with having a new baby, but some nights it’s my own mind that keeps me up and worrying all night.

  Last night?

  That was all Winston’s fault.

  I couldn’t stop thinking about what he said on the patio.

  How would it feel for him to slide between my legs?

  Judging by the size of his dick, damn good.

  The question is…am I willing to find out?

  I shake my head for likely the millionth time this morning and finish applying my mascara.

  I’m already running late for work. I can’t dawdle any longer than I already have or I’ll be facing Simon’s famous disappointed dad frown. Winston might be used to receiving it, but I sure as hell ain’t.

  Rushing through the bedroom, I start throwing all of Riker’s supplies into his baby bag, knowing if I forget something, Doris probably has a spare at her apartment.

  I groan at the thought of having to ask Winston to drive all the way across town to drop off Riker, then to work, back over there after work, and then all the way back here.

  It’s tiresome, especially since we’re both working a full day today.

  He’s going to be nice and bitchy tonight, and I’d rather not upset him any more than I usually do.

  “I can watch him, you know.”

  I squeak at the sudden appearance of Winston’s roommate Sully.

  We haven’t spent too much time together, but what I know of him, I like.

  Especially how just being around him eases the anxiety that’s always trying to eat at me.

  “Uh, Riker?”

  “No, Winston.” He pushes off the doorjamb and walks into the room, stopping at the edge of the bed. “Yes, Riker. I can watch him for you, if you want. Unless your other sitter lives next door, I’m much more convenient than she is.”

  I glance down at Riker, who’s staring up at Sully like he’s the most entertaining thing in the whole world.

  Riker does really seem to like him, and he is much more convenient than Doris.

  “I don’t want to put you out or anything…”

  “You’re not. I offered.”

  “Are you sure? He cries a lot. And poops.”

  He chuckles. “I’m well versed in the things babies do. I have two younger siblings I helped raise.”

  “Really?” Winston appears at the doorway, and I try not to let the same thoughts that plagued me last night rear their ugly heads.

  They do anyway.

  Because all I can picture is a naked Winston.

  A naked Winston crawling on top of me, my legs spread wide as he fits between them like he’s always belonged there.

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  “I didn’t know you had siblings,” Winston says.

  Right. Siblings. We’re having a conversation here.

  I pull myself from my fantasies.

  Ew—fantasies of Winston? What the hell is wrong with me?

  Sully lifts a shoulder. “You never asked.”

  Winston frowns, and we both ignore him.

  “I won’t even charge you.”

  “Like hell you won’t,” I say. “I’ll pay you just as much as I pay Doris. There’s no way you’re watching my baby for free.”

  “Why? I’ll be home already. Changing a diaper or two and feeding him every so often isn’t a big deal.”

  “Sully…” I shake my head. “Just shut up and let me pay you.”

  “Whatever.” That’s all he says before scooping up a smiling Riker like he’s done it a million times before and heading toward the living room. “We’ll be out here if you need us.”

  I stare after them, half worried I’m leaving my baby behind with a weirdo and half worried Riker loves Sully more than he loves me.

  “He’s a really great guy,” Winston tells me. “Lay-down-his-life-for-a-stranger kind of great.”

  “I get that vibe.”

  “Good. Then chop-chop. We don’t want to be late.”

  “Since when do you care about being on time?”

  “Since I don’t feel like hearing you bitch at me.”

  Ah. There he is.

  The Winston I needed to get these stupid, juvenile thoughts out of my head.

  See? I’m not attracted to him. My hormones are just screwed up after pushing out a baby, and it’s been so long since I’ve had sex that anyone would do at this point.

  That’s all this is.

  It has to be all this is.

  I can’t possibly be attracted to Winston Daniels.

  Hell hasn’t frozen over yet.

  “Let me just grab my apron and we can go.”

  He rolls his eyes.

  I run into his bathroom one last time, checking to make sure I covered the dark circles under my eyes just enough that nobody is going to ask questions and then snatching my apron off the dresser as I walk back through the bedroom.

  I make my way to the living room, smiling when I see Riker sitting with Sully on the couch as SpongeBob plays on the TV.

  “Can’t believe you’re letting my kid watch trash cartoons.”

  “What?” Winston cries. “SpongeBob is a classic!”

  “I have to agree with him,” Sully s
ays.

  “He’s obnoxious.”

  “You’re obnoxious,” Winston grumbles. “Just tell your gremlin goodbye before I leave you here for shitting on my childhood.”

  I bend to give Riker a kiss and he turns his head into Sully’s side.

  “If he doesn’t want to kiss you, I will.”

  Sully grins up at me, and I laugh.

  Don’t get me wrong, Sully is hot as fuck. He looks like your average surfer boy, sun-kissed skin and all, but he doesn’t do it for me.

  “Fucking move it already,” Winston barks from beside the front door, and I glare at him.

  “All right. Don’t get your panties in a wad. I’m coming.”

  I follow the grump outside.

  Winston grunts and groans his way down the stairs and I want to ask if he’s okay, but I’m sure I’ll just get a snippy answer back, so I don’t bother.

  We pile into his old station wagon, complete with the wood paneling.

  “This is such an odd choice in vehicle for you,” I comment as he cranks the engine, which sounds surprisingly good for such an old car.

  “It was my parents’.”

  “No way. I thought for sure it was brand new.”

  He ignores my snark. “I have a lot of good memories in this beast, so I couldn’t let her go when my mom passed. My dad was ready to sell her, but I vowed to keep her alive and well.”

  “She’s in great condition.”

  “Not too bad, especially considering this is what I was driving when I got hit.”

  Ah, yes. The accident no one likes to talk about.

  It happened right after I moved here. Although I didn’t know him all that well at the time, I knew him well enough to gather that the Winston after the accident was a lot different than the one I met before it.

  Still a jerk, but way viler.

  His words burned where they used to sting.

  He was so angry, so full of hate.

  I tried not to take it personally, but if I’m being honest, I did.

  I think the thing I hated most about the entire thing was that even though he could have lost his life, he still treated it like it was something to sneeze at, like the privileges he had were meaningless.

  He didn’t show any respect for himself or others around him. He just kept existing, not caring about who he hurt along the way.

  He lights a cigarette, balancing it between his lips as he holds the wheel with one hand and cranks the window down with the other.

  I know smoking isn’t sexy, but damn does he look it with his arm resting on the door panel, smoke wafting around him. The muscles in his arms jump as he lifts the cigarette to his mouth and takes a drag, and I watch with rapt attention.

  “Do you want one?”

  I gulp. “H-Huh?”

  “A smoke—do you want one? You keep staring at me like you do.”

  That’s not what I want.

  I clear my throat and move my attention to the road. “I don’t smoke.”

  “Right.” He takes another drag.

  The drive to Slice isn’t long, and thankfully we pull into the parking lot just before I do something stupid.

  Like moan and say I wish I were the cigarette.

  I push the door open before I even know the car is in park and hightail it toward the front door.

  I swear I hear Winston laugh behind me.

  I’m in such a rush I nearly crash right into Simon as I burst through the pizzeria doors.

  “Whoa, Speed Racer! What’s the rush? That excited to sling pizzas?”

  “I’d be more excited if I were in the kitchen,” I say, giving him my sweetest smile.

  He chuckles. “Tell ya what—if anyone calls in this week, I’ll let you stand in on the prep station. Deal?”

  “Prep station?” I groan because I don’t want to just work prep. I want to create.

  Simon raises his brows, and I know I’m pushing my luck complaining when he’s being so generous.

  “Deal.” I push my shoulders back. “That’s what I meant to say. You have a deal.”

  “Good. Now go clock in.”

  He turns on his heel and I clear my throat before he can get far.

  He spins back around to me with a questioning glance. “Yes?”

  I stick my hand out. “Shake on it?”

  Laughing and shaking his head, he clasps my hand in his. “Smart girl.”

  Winston finally ambles inside, clapping his dad on the back. “What’s up, Dad?”

  Simon checks the watch on his wrist. “Well, I’ll be damned. You’re on time.”

  “You have me to thank for that.”

  “Pfft,” Winston scoffs. “You almost made us late with all your diddle-daddling.”

  “I was saying goodbye to my child.”

  “Excuses, excuses.”

  Simon smacks the back of Winston’s head. “Shut up. Go clock in and do something with your life.”

  Winston glares at me, rubbing his head.

  I just stick my tongue out and head for the computer so I can get paid for having to deal with Winston all night long.

  Once I’m on the clock, I tie my apron around my waist and head for my first table, pasting on my customer service smile.

  “Welcome to Slice. What can I—oh, it’s just you.”

  Wren and Foster grin up at me.

  “Just us?” Wren pouts. “You hear that, Foster? It’s just us.”

  “Ignore her,” Foster says. “She’s insane today.”

  “To be fair, she’s insane every day.”

  The guy sitting next to Foster laughs. “I like her. Is she single?”

  I look him over, his dark blond hair perfectly coifed and his skin a rich tan. His eyes are dark green, smile bright white.

  Is there something in the water around here? Because all the guys are stupid hot.

  “Why don’t you ask her yourself?” I say.

  He whistles. “Damn. Yeah, I really like you.” He sticks his hand out across the table. “I’m Porter. And you are…?”

  “Single.”

  “Drew!” Wren laughs.

  “What? I am.”

  “You’re horrible.”

  “She’s hot.”

  “She’s insufferable.”

  I sigh, because of course Winston must butt into this conversation at this exact moment.

  “Go away, Winston,” Wren tells her brother. “You’re not wanted here.”

  “I am too.” He looks to Foster. “Right, best friend?”

  “Oooh.” I clap my hands together. “The decision between free pussy and dealing with a butthurt Winston—let’s definitely play this game.”

  “Where do I play into all of this?” Porter tosses his hat into the ring.

  Everyone stares at Foster expectantly.

  His eyes bounce from face to face, gulping nervously.

  “I…I like everyone equally?”

  He says it as a cautious question like the smart man he is.

  “But me just a little bit more, right? Because you’ve known me the longest and all,” Winston throws out.

  “Or, you know, me the most because of that free pussy thing,” Wren says.

  “Ew.” Winston groans. “Stop talking about your nasty vagina.”

  “Actually”—Foster holds his finger up—“it’s not nasty. Can confirm that one.”'

  Winston gags, and we all laugh at him.

  “There we have it. I’m the clear victor.” Wren pats herself on the back. “Thank you, thank you. I’ll accept chocolate in lieu of congratulations.” She looks pointedly at Foster when she says this.

  “Noted,” he tells her, winking.

  “Do you guys know what you want? Or did you need a minute?” I ask.

  “I want the Grilled Cheese Cheeser for sure,” Wren says. “And some breadsticks.”

  “Naturally,” I say. “For you, Porter?”

  “I’ll do a slice of what she got and one of the Biscuit ’N’ All the Gravy too. And then can I
have a kids-sized slice of the Mac ’N’ Cheese, Please pizza.”

  “Kids-sized?” I scrunch my brows. “You sure you don’t just want a regular slice? It’s really good and totally worth the extra calories.”

  Porter points to the other side of the booth, and for the first time, I notice the little girl who is completely zonked out.

  Her hair—which is the exact same color as her father’s—is pulled into a lopsided top knot, her lashes so long against her tan cheeks.

  “It’s for my daughter.”

  “Oh.” It comes out a whisper, like we haven’t all been talking in normal voices for the past five minutes. “I didn’t even see her there.”

  “She’s a little bitty thing,” he says. “She hides easily.”

  I grin down at her. “She’s precious.”

  Wren snaps her fingers together. “Shit! Why didn’t I think to ask you before? Drew, who is the lady you have watch Riker?”

  “Lady? Don’t you mean little girl? She’s like sixteen or some shit,” Winston interjects.

  “Who, Doris? She isn’t sixteen. She’s nineteen. She’s in community college.” I look to Porter. “Do you need a sitter?”

  He nods. “Not yet, but I will eventually. Someone able to be a live-in nanny would be ideal.”

  I’m not sure Doris would be up for a live-in nanny position, but I do know she could really use a better place to live and more stable income. No harm in throwing her info out there just in case.

  “I can have a talk with her and give you her number. She’s fantastic with my three-month-old. I bet she’d love to help you out.”

  “Thank you, I appreciate it.”

  I smile at him. “It’s no problem. I’ll be right back with some waters for you guys.”

  “Hey, what about my order?” Foster asks.

  “Please. I already know your dumb ass wants chicken strips.”

  “Really, man? You order chicken strips at a pizzeria?” Porter chides. “Fine, Winston, you win. I don’t want his best friend status anymore.”

  Winston fist-pumps the air. “Yes!”

  * * *

  “I am fucking beat,” I grumble as Winston pulls the station wagon into his driveaway. “Is it wrong if I want my child to be soundly sleeping when we walk inside?”

  “Nah.”

  He reaches across the front seat and I hear a loud crackle come from his shoulder that I’m sure can’t be normal. Again, I keep quiet as he pops open the glove compartment, grabbing a box.