Dirty Dix (Hard Love Romance #1) (9 page)

I
didn’t realize
how much I missed these assholes, but now that we three are out hitting the town, I know Fridays are back to being boys’ night only.

I’ve turned my phone off, as I’m man enough to admit I have been tempted to check it once or twice. But Hunter’s idiotic apple pie analogy had me refusing to yield, so it’s just me, Finch and Hunter—and a thousand other people crammed into the club.

This club, ironically enough, is called Cherry Pop. It’s some new club which just opened up in Manhattan, and the “trendy” trash playing over the speakers really has me wishing they would play some good ol’ eighties rock ballads.

As I look at the scantily dressed females and metrosexual males, I know I’ll need another drink.

“Remind me why we’re here?” I gripe, looking over at Hunter who is feasting on the smorgasbord of young flesh in front of him.

“Are you blind?” he scoffs, waving his hand out in front of him, indicating the barely legal girls dancing to this horrible music.

“I’m nowhere near blind enough to touch any of those little girls.” I swig my drink and make a pained face. “Good grief, even their scotch is atrocious.”

“Oh, lighten up, you old fuddy-duddy. Not that long ago, I recall you not having any qualms touching a certain little girl,” Hunter says, referring to Madison.

“That was entirely different. First, she wasn’t jailbait, and second, she has a lot more class than the tramps that inhabit these quarters.”

“Um, Dixon,” Finch says, and I turn to look at him sitting on his stool, his eyes squinting and looking in the direction of the dance floor.

“Yeah?” I reply, wondering what has him so intrigued.

“Isn’t
that
your little girl?” he says, pointing in front of him.

“What?” I gasp, my eyes frantically searching the area he’s zoning in on. “That’s impossible.”

Hunter’s laugh to my right indicates it’s very possible. “Holy shit! Little Miss Cherry Pie has grown up.”

I reach out and slap his chest, my eyes never leaving the sight before me, because Madison is very much in front of me. Her body, which has always been incredible, looks even better than I remember. She was always on the slender side, but not any more. It’s only been a couple of months, but Jesus, it’s like she’s taken a crash course in body sculpting and she’s all soft curves and toned, supple flesh.

“And just think, you chose apple pie over
that
,” Hunter whispers into my ear.

I would usually retort with a smart-ass comment, but right now, I’m surprised I even remember my own name.

A faster song commences, and Madison excitedly latches onto her redheaded friend. They begin dancing together, laughing as they attempt to keep up with the choppy beat.

Her red tube dress is short and low, and each time she moves, the dress slips lower and higher, and I raise myself off my seat, hoping to get a sneak peek at what she’s packing underneath. My raging hormones get doused with a bucket of ice-cold “wake the fuck up!” when an Adonis-looking male wraps his arms around her waist, pressing her back against his hardened front.

The alpha dog in me howls in protest, and I clench the empty glass in my hand, envisioning it’s his head I’m squeezing. But by the way Madison is smiling and leaning into his advances, I dare say this ecstatic asshole is her new beau.

But who can blame him? I mean, look at her; she’s beautiful.

Her long hair, thanks to the vigorous dancing, looks wild and untamed—perfect freshly fucked hair. The thought, however, has my teeth gnashing together, as I don’t want to picture her fucking this douchebag in front of me—or any douchebag, for that matter.

Fuck. I need a drink.

“Well, hot damn, I—”

“Zip it, Hunter,” I snap as I push back from my stool and make my way toward the bar, totally ignoring his snide remark.

The line is long, and due to my foul mood, I have no desire to wait. If I stay here a minute longer, then I need to get nice and drunk and forget that I ever saw Madison.

I don’t fail to see the paradox of my situation. It’s the classic case of you want what you can’t have. I could have had the sweet, innocent Madison, but instead I chose the easy, rampant sex fiend, Juliet, who I was sleeping with before I even knew I had a “thing” for Madison.

But after tonight, I’m not so sure I made the right choice, and it’s not because I’ve seen what a goddess Madison is. I always knew she was. Under that fancy make-up and slinky red dress, she’s still the clumsy little girl who bought me breakfast and made me smile.

I suppose I’m questioning my decision because I can’t help but wonder: Are Juliet and I too alike? The sex is rockin’, but when that dies down, and it will die down, will I still want her?

This is what happens when you start a “relationship” with someone who was your patient, who is addicted to sex, who you watched masturbate on your desk, and then fucked like a wild animal to get over your lying, cheating ex-fiancée.

This was doomed from the get go. Why the
hell
did I think otherwise?

“Dixon?”

Internally groaning, I curse whatever gods are looking down on me, laughing at my misfortune.

“Madison?” I say, matching her stunned tone, although mine is completely staged.

As I turn around to look at her, my heart gets stuck in my throat. But I pull my shit together, and put my game face on.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, her chest pushing out breathlessly after all of that energetic dancing.

“Oh, my friends wanted to check the place out,” I reply, running a hand through my hair.

She nods, and I don’t fail to see her eyes taking in every crevice of my face as we talk. “Oh, cool. Me too. Well, my friends did,” she explains, her glossy lips calling out to me.

“Awesome.” I clear my throat, as this feels exactly how it used to feel when we first met.

The attraction is no doubt still there, but something has changed in Madison. She seems more…confident, more aware of her beauty, but not in a conceited way. And I can’t help but wonder why the change.

The answer, however, slaps me straight in the face when her beau wraps his meaty hands around her waist, clearly staking his claim. This dude is a giant compared to her, and she looks up to meet his narrowed eyes. Appearing as if she had forgotten where she was, she shakes her head and smiles.

“Dixon, this is David.”

David the Giant extends his palm, which I lacklusterly shake.

“Pleasure,” I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

He returns my unenthused gesture and I pull back my hand, fighting the urge to wipe it on my jeans. David sizes me up, and warning bells obviously go off in his head as he protectively wraps his arm around Madison’s shoulders.

“So, how do you know Maddy?” he barks, trying to intimidate me.

This
boy
has a lot to learn if he thinks his playground antics will get a rise out of me.

“Well, Madison was falling all over herself when I was around. Weren’t you,
Maddy
?” I sarcastically reply, my eyes never leaving David’s.

As his jaw clenches, I internally high-five my wit.

“How’s your head?” I ask, reaching forward and brushing away the soft hair from her temple, looking for any scarring evidence from her fall.

I’ll be damned; she slowly leans forward into my touch. Her willingness to surrender has the barbarian in me beating my chest in victory. Suck on that, you freakishly ginormous dick.

Thankfully, I’m next to be served, so I end this pleasant encounter immediately. “Well, it was nice meeting you, Damon,” I say, intentionally getting his name wrong.

“It’s David,” he corrects, his fingers clutching Madison’s soft skin.

“Right,” I reply dismissively. “Madison,” I nod, directing my cocky gaze her way, but she looks pissed.

I have no idea what would incite this hostility, and it’s too late to find out why as the person is front of me is paying for their drinks.

“It was lovely seeing you again.” I lean forward, placing a chaste kiss on her cheek.

The moment her vanilla scent assaults my nostrils, I barely refrain from burying my nose in the crook of her neck.

I pull away calmly, trying my best to appear impassive, but I’m thrown on my ass when she leans forward and purrs into my ear, “You owe me dinner.”

My calm demeanor is totally destroyed, but Madison smirks and turns on her heel with the baboon chasing after her.

I stand immobile, transfixed on her tight, curvy ass, totally losing my spot in line, but I don’t care. I just got played at my own game.

Touché, my Cherry Pie, touché.

I
awake
from the most vivid dream of Madison sucking my dick. She somehow knew exactly what I liked, and suddenly, I realize what woke me was the fact I am
actually
getting my dick sucked. However, the person on the end of my cock isn’t Madison, but rather Juliet.

Peering down, I see a head of lush blonde hair bopping up and down between my thighs, and I ignore the fact I wish it was a brunette head instead.

Juliet lets me go, and seductively raises her face, her lust-filled eyes focusing on mine. “Good morning, babe,” she purrs. I cringe, as I
hate
that pet name, but she doesn’t seem to care.

“Hi,” I reply, my raspy voice raw from too many scotches. “How’d you get in?” I ask, as she doesn’t have a key.

“I have my ways,” she huskily replies. I don’t even bother questioning how, because she lowers her head and continues from where she left off.

Getting blown by Juliet is honestly one of my most favorite things in the world. Her mouth, tongue, hands and throat, they all work in sync with each other perfectly, and I’m usually done in less than two minutes. But today, she’s just not doing it for me. Her mouth is too wet, her tongue is too swirly, her hands are too grabby, and her throat is too deep.

She senses I’m not in the mood and pulls away, her lips wet and plump from sucking like a damn vacuum cleaner.

“What’s the matter?” she breathes, brushing her hair off her face.

Looking down into her confused blue eyes, I feel like a total prick for being so unresponsive, because she’s trying.

Maybe I just want to fuck.

“Take your clothes off,” I demand, sitting up and reaching into my bedside dresser for a condom.

She looks confused as I usually go bareback, but that’s only because I’m usually lost in a fuck bubble, and all sense of reason gets lost in my raging hard-on. Nevertheless, she quickly rises and disrobes, yanking off her cashmere sweater and short black skirt. She’s boldly standing in a skimpy black strapless bra, matching thong, and red skyscraper heels, and I can’t deny, she really is beautiful.

“Strip,” I command, resting against the headboard, watching her.

She grins, no doubt turned on by the direct order, and she reaches around her body, unclasping her bra. It falls to the floor and my eyes zero in on her heavy, full breasts. Her nipples are pink and incredibly erect, and my mouth waters, begging to suck on both buds immediately.

“Those too.” I point to her panties.

She licks her glossy lips before turning her back to me and bends at the waist, giving me a full view of her toned ass. She hooks her fingers into the ribboned waistband of her thong and shimmies them down her legs until they too gather at her feet. Slowly rising, she looks at me over her shoulder, her long blonde hair veiling her dangerous face.

“Now what, Dr. Mathews?” she asks, tonguing her lower lip.

“Now I’m going to fuck you until you beg me to make you come,” I reply, tearing the condom wrapper and getting down to business.

Juliet attempts to turn around, but I stop her.

“Don’t move,” I scold, and she complies, a shiver passing through her awakened body.

Rising up off the bed, I wrap one steady hand around her waist while the other snakes around to her front, my fingers brushing over her wet pussy. She moans deep in her throat, and the sound I usually adore strangely does nothing for me. But I continue, dipping a finger into her ravenous cunt and quickly adding another, as one is never enough for the insatiable Juliet.

She rides my hand, her body thrashing wildly when I stroke over her clit with my thumb.

“Fuck me, Dixon,” she cries, rubbing her plump ass against my crotch.

“You’re a greedy, greedy girl.”

I hurriedly remove my fingers while she braces her hands on top of the dresser in front of her and bends at the waist, spreading her legs out wide. Arching her back, she pushes her hips out so her ass is on full display for my perverse pleasure. Bending my knees, I steady her waist with both hands and I push into her from behind.

The moment I’m sheathed inside of her warmth, my body has a mind of its own and my hips begin pumping into her with exact precision. I know this won’t take long because the harder I push, the louder she moans, which suits me just fine, as we’re both here for the same thing. The way she wiggles her ass, I know what she wants, but I’m in no mood for that type of play today.

Placing one hand low on her hip while the other cups her neck, I push down on her nape so her hips rise and I’m able to drive into her at a deeper angle because I can’t find my rhythm. I know she’s close, but I’m not, and I don’t know why. This is one of my favorite positions, but I’m just not with her. I piston my hips and reach up, tweaking her plump nipple, which usually gets me going. But today—nothing.

“I’m close,” she whimpers, her cheek pressed into the hardwood of my dresser, the contents rattling with each powerful strike I inflict on her softening body.

The moment her inner muscles squeeze my cock, I know she’s there, and she comes with a loud scream, her body shuddering around me. But yet I fruitlessly pump and grind into her, my release nowhere in sight.

Juliet is ready for round two, but my homerun is nowhere to be found.

“Babe,” she moans, her body slumping forward, my forceful movements almost making her one with the dresser.

Why can’t I come? My orgasm is tethering so close to the edge, but I just can’t get there.

Suddenly, Juliet’s locks are replaced with a head of lush, brunette hair, and her small ass is curvier and shapelier. I begin to envision my dick driving into a nameless brunette with large green eyes and plump rosy lips, her cheeks tinted a flushed pink. Her glorious tits bounce uncontrollably as I swathe myself in her warm, innocent body. Now
this
image is one that awakens my body, and I pull out before pushing back in, the sensual feel sending a jolt of pure ecstasy to my toes.

However, unexpectedly, the face is no longer faceless, and as she turns over her shoulder to look at me, I meet the sparkling green eyes of Madison.

Memories of her dancing, and the way her body moved to the music plummet into me, and as I imagine her soft, seductive voice echoing in my ear, I explode with a force so great, I almost collapse with the power of it. My body milks my orgasm, drawing it out until I am panting, gasping, Jesus, about to have a damn heart attack, as I’ve never come this hard before.

It takes me a full minute to come down and when I do, I meet satisfied blue eyes, instead of the sparking green ones I was envisioning.

“That was…wow,” Juliet gasps, her cheek marred with a pattern from the wood grain.

I smile half-heartedly and pull out, as her body suddenly feels cold and amiss. Disposing of my condom, I fall face first onto my bed and pray sleep overtakes me, burying my shame.

Thankfully, it does.

I
wake alone
.

Juliet is no doubt long gone, as I made it more than obvious I wasn’t in the mood for snuggling.

What the
hell
was that? Not once, not ever, have I had to envision another to get off. Even when I took Sharon Witherstone aka Shamu the Whale over the edge, my orgasm was brought on by the fact her shapely body was hungrily grasping my dick and milking me dry.

Tossing my blankets off, I reach for my cell and dial the only two people who can explain to me what the fuck is going on.

“
Y
ou’re fucking like a woman
.”

“Excuse me?” I ask, slightly offended, as I stare at Hunter over my coffee.

“You. Are. Fucking—”

“Yes, I heard you the first time,” I say, interrupting him. “But what does that even mean?”

“It means,” Hunter explains, waving his fork in my direction, “that you’re fucking with your mind, rather than your dick.” He finishes the sentence with his silverware pointing at my junk.

“Get the fuck out of here,” I cry, but holy shit—he’s right.

I’ve mentioned to both Finch and Hunter on more than one occasion that Juliet fucks like a man. She can fuck anytime, anyplace, just like a man. And I’m usually a hundred percent there with her, but this morning, I could only cross the finish line when it was Madison’s face and body I pictured driving into.

“There you go,” Hunter says, throwing his hands up in victory.

“That’s not possible,” I scoff, but it’s very possible.

It’s a well-known fact that most ladies fuck with their minds, while most men fuck with the head between their legs. It’s more of a challenge to stimulate a lady’s mind, rather than her G-spot. But if you can do both and you’re fucking her body
and
her mind, then you’re superman.

Sweet baby Jesus, I
am
turning into a woman.

“This is impossible. I mean, I’ve never had this problem before, and I’ve slept with some real…” I make a pained face. “But you’ve seen Juliet. She’s beautiful.”

“But she’s not the one you want to be screwing, obviously,” Hunter says around a mouthful of food.

I down my water, suddenly feeling sick.

“How does Juliet make you feel?” Finch asks, chewing on his fruit salad.

“Well, usually, she can make me come in five seconds flat.”

“No, that’s not what I meant,” he says, blanching. “Like afterwards. Do you talk? Snuggle?”

“Dude!” Hunter exclaims in disgust. “Next you’re going to tell me you and Heidi are on the same menstrual cycle!”

But Finch ignores him, and continues. “After the act is done, what do you feel?”

I think for a while, and reply honestly. “Nothing.”

“Exactly,” Finch says. “It’s just sex, Dixon. I’m not the professional here…” He looks at me with a smirk. “But do you think Juliet is just filling a…void?”

Hunter snorts, and I eyeball him, as I can only imagine what wiseass comment he’s about to say about me filling a void.

“Maybe all these mechanical hook-ups have started losing their appeal,” Finch continues. “And Juliet was the first woman in a long time that was something a little more than just a booty call.”

I nod because he’s right. From the first moment I met her, I knew she was going to be trouble. Could it be that subconsciously I
was
trying to fill that void? Was I trying to make something out of nothing? But that doesn’t explain Madison.

“I could have filled this so called ‘void,’” I say, making quotation marks around the word
void
, “with Madison, but I chose Juliet instead.” I’m interested to hear Finch’s thoughts.

“Sex is easy, Dix; it’s the relationship component that’s the hard part. With Madison, it’s obviously something more.”

“I hardly know her,” I pathetically rebuke.

“But from what you do know, you’re obviously attracted to her on another level. You must have some kind of…interest in her,” he concludes with a nod.

He’s right. The few times we have spent together, I found myself enjoying her company, rather than wondering if she likes reverse cowgirl or not.

“And this is what happens when you make your fuck buddy your girlfriend, Dix,” Hunter unsympathetically says as he salts his fries.

“She is not my girlfriend,” I state for the tenth time.

“She may as well be. You don’t sleep with anyone else, and you ditch your friends for her. So, she’s your girlfriend.”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” I press, restraining from flipping him off.

“So is,” he childishly chides under his breath.

I choose to ignore him and decide to talk to the adult in our group. “What’s it like for you and Heidi? I mean, does she still do it for you?” I ask Finch, who smiles at the mere mention of his wife.

“She is the sexiest woman alive, and I never have a problem making love,” he proudly replies, while Hunter gags.

“Ugh. Can you not use that word please?”

“What? Love?” Finch questions, puzzled lines furrowing his brow.

“Yes, and please refrain from using the term ‘making’ before it. It’s so…gay,” Hunter replies with revulsion.

I can’t help but laugh.

“Making love to your beautiful wife is not gay, let me tell you,” Finch says, waggling his eyebrows. “We please one another. That’s what relationships are about. Making the other person happy as well as yourself.”

“And this is why Hunter is still single,” I tease. He playfully flips me off, but I see a touch of hurt behind his usual mischievous eyes. What’s he hiding?

“Sorry to bring this up,” Finch says with reservation. “But you were engaged, Dix. I mean, surely when you and Lily were together, you felt some kind of connection?”

The mention of Lily would usually throw me, but today it doesn’t at all, and I really take Finch’s question onboard.

My “whatever” with Juliet doesn’t even compare to what I felt for Lily. I mean, I loved Lily more than life itself. And not once did I ever picture another woman other than her while we were…making…fuck. But with Juliet, I feel like a dick on demand, which is fine, as I suppose she’s my cooch on call.

Finch and Hunter are right. I was foolish to think this was anything other than sex.

“You’re right.” I sigh. Hunter clears his throat. “You’re both right,” I amend, sarcastically smiling at my friend. Deciding to be honest, I confess, “With Juliet, I feel like a dick on demand.”

Hunter sadly doesn’t appreciate my honesty, and bursts into fits of laughter. “Dr. Dixon, the Booty Call M.D.,” he says, while mimicking with his hands like he’s sign-writing on a billboard.

“Then stop seeing her,” Finch says, implying this isn’t rocket science. “You know, you’re the psychiatrist here. Shouldn’t you be the one giving out advice?”

“It’s not that simple, Finch,” I reply, fisting my hair. “Everything you’ve learned and applied to others doesn’t apply when you’re the one who needs the advice. And besides, my forte is addiction, not relationships. I’m a psychiatrist, not a damn relationship guru.”

Finch nods. “That’s understandable.”

“No, you’re just a dumbass,” Hunter pipes up, pushing his empty plate away from him. “I told you to stay away from that harpy.”