Down & Dirty

by Ashley Johnson

  “I know you heard it. Why do you think I said it?”

  “Huh?” I ask confused as to what he means.

  He chuckles softly and pulls my body infinitesimally closer to his. “I said it because I knew you were listening. I was talking to you when I said it,” he explains.

  My insides turn to mush and I can feel a smile spread across my face as we sway slowly to the music.

  “Why do you have to do that?” I ask, biting on my lip to keep the enormous smile threatening to break out from making an appearance.

  “What did I do now?” he sounds exasperated at my question.

  “Just when I think that I can be pissed enough to push you out of my life without a second thought, you do something that makes it so much harder to shove you out that door.”

  He gives me his earth shattering smile and winks at me, causing my nether regions to tingle once again.

  “You and I both know that what we have going here is something good and I’m not ready to let it go. It could be a long time before I’m ready to quit this,” he tells me and gives my hips a small squeeze.

  When the song ends, he leans in and gives me a small kiss on the cheek before pulling back and looking into my eyes.

  “I’m going to take Carmen home,” he tells me.

  “Her name is Carmen?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Funny, I’ve been calling her Tits McGee in my head all night.”

  He tilts his head back and lets out a laugh, making his whole face light up with humor.

  “Great, now that’s what I’m going to call her from now on,” he mumbles through a smile.

  I push his chest and give him a small smile. “Go take Carmen home, then.”

  “I’ll see you later, okay?” he says and I nod in the affirmative. He gives me one last wink before walking off the dance floor toward his date, who is glaring a hole through my head. I just smile and wave my fingers at her before turning around and walking back to the bar.

  Chapter 17

  After dancing to club music for over two hours, finally seeing the bride and groom off, and then helping to clean up the bridal suite with Harlow’s mom and sister, I finally make it home.

  I walk through the garage door and am instantly greeted by Otis, who jumps on his hind legs and pushes his front legs on my shoulders. It takes all my strength to stay upright with this enormous dog leaning on me while I’m still teetering in five inch black heels.

  “Hey buddy, were you good while I was gone?” I ask him, knowing full well that he won’t answer me back.

  After I push him off me and watch him run around the living room like he’s on crack, I remove my heels, which I have affectionately named the ass kicker heels, and move to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water.

  On my way down the hall to my bedroom, Otis zooms past me, his tail wagging quickly like he can’t wait for me to give him some scratches. I throw my shoes into my room before I even reach the door, eager to get the offending shoes out of my sight, and twist the lid on my water before putting it to my mouth and tipping my head back for a large gulp.

  “Bout time you made it home, sugar,” I hear from somewhere in the room, but it’s lost on me because I’ve spit out all the water I’d just collected in my cheeks and have now started coughing like I was choking to death.

  “Jesus Emmie, what the hell was that?” Nixon asks, making it to my side and patting me softly on the back until my coughing fit subsides.

  I turn to look at him with wide eyes.

  “What the fuck are you doing here Nixon?” I shout and feel my fear turn into confusion when he just smiles at me.

  “I told you I was going to be inside you while you were wearing that dress, did I not?” he says, like that explains why he was waiting in my bedroom until I got home.

  “I want my key back. I don’t like knowing that you can get into my house while I’m not here and do whatever you want. How do I know you are locking the place up when you leave and I won’t have people waiting inside to kill me when I get home?” I start to panic slightly when I think of all the bad things that could happen, along with how badly the asshole scared me when I came in.

  “Don’t worry about it, Em. I did a sweep of the house and a thorough check of your underwear drawer to make sure no one else was here,” he deadpans. That remark snaps me out of my panic.

  “My underwear drawer, huh. Are you sure no one was hiding out in there? I’ve had a few pieces of lingerie go missing in the past few years without any explanation,” I joke. For some reason Nixon doesn’t find this funny and tells me so with his scowl.

  “What,” I ask.

  “I don’t like the idea that other fuckers out there have underwear that you’ve worn. That’s something for me alone. No one else should get that privilege but me.”

  I roll my eyes and plant my hands on my hips at his possessive remark.

  “I have been with other people too, Nixon. I wasn’t a virgin by any stretch before you made your move you know.”

  Then his eyes turn dark and his arms wind around my body from the side almost too tightly.

  “Can you quit fucking reminding me that you’ve been with other men before me, please,” he grinds out.

  I figure that I need to lighten the mood because he’s getting a bit too alpha male about other men, so I throw in “what about the other women I’ve been with?”

  Nixon’s body freezes but his eyes connect with mine. The lust that automatically shines through them makes me instantly wet.

  “Women too?” he drawls. I just nod my answer. “How many?”

  I bite my lip and avoid his answer because, while I did have that typical college drunk night, there was a period after college ended and I was just fed up with men, thanks to Pete. Women seemed to be more in tune with what a woman wants and I thought I would try that route for a while. It only lasted two months and two girls, but it was an eye opener.

  “Three total,” I tell him honestly.

  “Holy shit Em, really?” he asks, like he can’t believe it.

  “Yeah, the last one was a threesome but it made me realize that I’m all about the dick,” I shrug.

  “Well, now I’m totally turned on,” he says and slowly pushes his hips against my side, his hard length pressing just below my rib cage.

  “Oh yeah? You like knowing that I’ve been with women?”

  “Oh yeah,” he growls and his hand falls away from my hip and travels up my back to the zipper of my dress where he slowly and torturously separates the metal teeth holding the fabric together.

  “Nixon,” I barely get the word out before my dress puddles around my feet and I feel him lean over to press his mouth to the side of my neck. I had been in such a hurry to get to the reception hall this morning that I hadn’t thought about straps of a dress, and my white bra wouldn’t do, so I said screw it and went without one for the night.

  I tilt my head to give him better access and close my eyes.

  “You are so fucking sexy,” he mutters and steps around to stand in front of me before placing his mouth against mine for a soul searing kiss.

  He pulls back infinitesimally and speaks, his lips brushing against mine as they move. “It seems I find something I like more about you every single day.”

  I giggle. “Today it was that I’ve been with a woman?” He shakes his head, his nose rubbing on either side of mine with every swipe.

  “No, that was just an added bonus. Today it was how fucking hot you looked in that dress and the way you didn’t give into that asshole that wanted to get a piece of you.”

  “Ben didn’t want a piece of me, Nixon. He was very nice, actually.”

  “Of course he wanted a fucking piece of you, Em. Did he ask for your number?”

  Shit, he did ask me for my number before I left tonight. I can’t tell Nixon that I gave it to him, though. I knew when this thing with Nixon ended that I’d need someone else to occupy my time and Ben seemed like he wouldn’t have a problem doing j
ust that.

  I feel the small cringe slide onto my face and see Nixon’s eyes narrow at me, so I slide my arms up his chest and around his shoulders and pull his face toward mine.

  When our mouths collide, I run my tongue along the seam of his, begging for entrance which, after a few seconds, he grants.

  One of his hands travels up into my hair, pulling the perfectly coiffed bun out so he can wrap it around his fist.

  The other hand travels down, drawing the outline of the white lace thong I am wearing. He runs his fingers along the seam at the apex of my thighs, but he’s not touching me where I need him the most, so I spread my legs wider, giving him easier access and also hinting to him without words where I need his fingers right now.

  He takes the hint and, after pulling my tangled hair back so that I tilt my head skyward, he kisses down the column of my neck and moves his fingers under the band of my panties to where I need him the most.

  “Yes,” I whimper and Nixon acknowledges this noise by giving me little love bites all the way down to my breast. When his mouth latches onto my nipple, my back arches and I pull on his hair while simultaneously shoving his face closer with both hands.

  My body is in sensation overload with his fingers inside me, his mouth biting onto my nipple and my hair still being pulled to the point of pain, and I lose it. I release a loud, breathy moan and feel my legs turn into jelly.

  Nixon uses the fingers that are still inside me to hold my body in a semi standing position while I come down from my orgasm high and detaches from my nipple only to pull my face closer to his and claim my mouth like he owns it.

  “Get your sexy ass on that bed right now,” he grunts against my lips.

  I don’t think about his words, I just do as he says and walk as quickly as my shaky legs will allow to my bed. When I’m plopped down in the middle, I shove a pillow behind my head at an angle that helps me watch him. His hands begin to unbutton his dress shirt as he keeps his hooded eyes trained on me.

  “You have no fucking idea what it was like to watch you strut around that wedding tonight in that sexy dress and see every asshole in the room watching you and I wasn’t able to do a god damn thing about it. It was the hardest fucking thing I’ve ever had to do to hold off from punching a few of them in the face.”

  I bite down on my lower lip as I watch him grab the band of his dress pants and shove them and his boxers down to the floor, trying to keep myself from drooling at his carved abs and powerful thighs becoming visible.

  “Too bad we couldn’t tell everyone at the wedding about what went down in that bathroom, huh. Then all those fuckers would have known that your pussy was mine. Your pussy belongs to me Emmie,” he growls as he stalks along the mattress and over my body.

  I’m starting to get pissed about the way this conversation is turning. He brought a chick to the wedding who thought that they were going to a Halloween party dressed as Siamese twins, not a wedding in late November. He has no right to tell me that he was pissed about other guys looking at me.

  He keeps mumbling against my neck that my pussy belongs to him and how much it kills him that we can’t let anyone else know about it.

  I’m feeling all sorts of emotions all at once.

  I’m sad because we can’t say anything about us to other people.

  I’m confused because now it feels like my heart is involved and nothing good can come from getting your heart involved in a fuck buddy situation.

  I’m frustrated, both mentally and sexually and at the moment I can take care of the latter of those frustrations. The other I will just have to take a day to deal with.

  “Just shut up and fuck me already King,” I grit out. This only makes Nixon pull his face out of my neck and smirk at me, his body still hovering over mine.

  “You want me to fuck you, sugar?”

  I clutch my hands around his forearms and attempt to wrap my legs around his hips, but they are up too high, so I look like some weird sloth hanging off him. I give up and drop my legs to the bed and give him my best death glare, hoping it convinces him to just shut up and thrust his cock into me.

  “Yes Nixon, I need you to fuck me right now.”

  “Okay,” he answers, then lowers his body to mine. His lips connect with mine in a sweet, tender kiss that he uses to distract me from the rough way he slams into me.

  We both groan loudly when his thrust hits the back of my channel, but never lose the contact of our mouths.

  Then, Nixon breaks our lip connection and rests his forehead against mine while pulling my right leg high on his hip. His thrusts are fast and hard, taking on a punishing rhythm while the look in his eyes seems loving but a bit confused.

  The moment seems to be a bit deeper than our normal sexcapades, therefore I don’t speak and neither does Nixon. We’re both content to be in the moment without the need to fill it with random words, but as soon as the all too familiar tingle of my release begins, Nixon’s mouth connects with mine once more.

  When I feel my orgasm hit, I try to throw my head back, but Nixon keeps hold of my lower lip and rides out the wave with me before coming himself and then dropping all of his body weight onto me.

  Neither of us speaks, me for fear that what I just felt may come out of my mouth and Nixon doesn’t need to hear that. Those words would just complicate things and we’re not even in a relationship, so these three little words are the last things that need to be thrown into the mix.

  He rolls off of me, still not saying a word and stares at the ceiling. After a few minutes of silence, I open my mouth to say something about what just happened, but Nixon rolls out of bed before I can get anything out.

  I think that he’s going to throw his clothes on and tell me that he’ll call me when he wants to hook up again, just like he’s done dozens of times before this, but instead he walks toward the door and flips the switch, turning the lights off before coming back to bed and throwing the covers over both of us.

  I lay there in the dark wondering if I should say something about this being too intimate for our situation, but Nixon’s arm slings out and pulls me closer to him so that my head is resting on his broad chest.

  He says nothing at all, seeming content to lay in silence and just be. He places a soft kiss against my forehead and I relax into him, throwing my leg over his and settling in. It doesn’t take long for Nixon to find sleep and I’m only a moment behind him when I find it myself.

  * *

  The next morning I wake to Nixon’s calloused hand running up and down the length of my torso. When I open my eyes I see him smiling at me, so I give him a small smile back.

  “Morning sugar,” he tells me, his voice husky from sleep, and then leans down to place a kiss against my lips.

  “Morning,” I say back, enjoying having him in my space when we aren’t being intimate. I could get used to seeing him like this every day.

  “You look so beautiful in the morning,” he whispers, talking more to himself than he is to me. I give him a bigger smile instead of saying anything back.

  “Want some breakfast?” he asks after a few moments of silence.

  “Sure, I could use some nourishment.”

  “Okay, hang tight and I’ll be right back,” he mutters and gets out of bed, grabbing his black boxers before walking out of the room.

  I lie back in bed and stare at my white ceiling, wondering where the shift in this odd arrangement happened. When did we graduate to sleep overs? I’m not sure when it happened, but I’m starting to like this change, maybe some time in the future we could move on to more.

  I see movement at the foot of the bed and look down to see Nixon grabbing his clothes and throwing them on haphazardly.

  “You okay?” I ask him, noticing he looks a little frazzled all the sudden.

  “Yeah, I just realized that I had something going on this morning so I have to bolt, but I’ll call you sometime okay?” he says in a rush and quickly walks to the side of the bed to kiss me on the cheek as he throws his ar
ms into last night’s dress shirt.

  “Yeah okay,” I whisper to his back, noting that his shirt is still unbuttoned and he doesn’t have socks or shoes on as he speed walks down the hallway toward the front door.

  As soon as I hear the door shut I flop back down on the bed. I was thinking this change in our arrangement was a good thing, but apparently Nixon thought it was the worst thing in the world. I don’t think he could have run out of here quicker if he were on fire.

  Oh well, I’ll just play it down like last night’s sleepover was no big deal and if it was such a big deal to Nixon that he wants to call it quits then it will hurt, but I’ll do it.

  There are thousands of other guys out there, but I might take a long break from men if I have to move on from Nixon King.

  Damn it.

  That sexy asshole is ruining me.

  Chapter 18

  It takes six days for Nixon to call me. I refused to call him and whine like a little bitch about why he’s ignoring me.

  I filled my time riding with some friends, doing a photo shoot for one of my sponsors for their bike shocks, and hanging out with my dad. I tried not to think of Nixon, but my mind would wander to him from time to time.

  So when he finally did call I was beyond excited, but worked extra hard not to let it show.

  “Hey sugar, what are you doing?” his voice seems nonchalant, like he didn’t bolt out of my house like he was training for some sprinting competition last time I saw him.

  “Hey, I’m getting ready to go to a signing for one of my sponsors. What are you up to?”

  “Just sitting around, wondering when we can hook up again,” he drawls.

  His words irk me for some reason, even though I know all we are is random hook ups here and there. Therefore I tell myself it would be good if we just avoided each other for a few more days so that I could get over these stupid girly feelings and get back to feeling like it’s nothing but sex.

  “Oh well, I have quite a full plate for at least the next week. Wish you would have gotten in touch with me a few days ago, I haven’t had anything major going on for the past few days, but now I’m super busy.”