Homewrecker (Into the Flames #1) (6 page)

That wasn’t a question. He isn’t asking me if I want him to lick my pussy, he’s telling me, and I can’t bring myself to tell him no.

Without removing his hand, Dixon walks me backward toward the bed. I lie back, watching as he yanks down my panties and settles between my thighs. His fingers drift around the tattoo of a sun on my pubic bone, and he smirks.

“I knew there was a bad girl hidin’ somewhere under all that nice girl bullshit.” When he looks up at me, the predatory look in his eyes tells me I’m fucked. The second he drops his head and his tongue touches me, I become completely consumed in what he’s doing and how it good it feels. My back arches when he wraps his lips around my clit, and I lace my fingers through his dark hair to hold him there. Dixon has always joked about being good in the bedroom, especially with his mouth, but this is beyond anything I could have imagined. He uses the perfect amount of tongue, suction, and fingers to drive me insane and hold me on the edge, but never quite lets me slip over. I whimper when he pulls back and he laughs.

“Whinin’ will get you nowhere. You’re not gonna come unless my cock is buried inside this perfect fuckin’ pussy.” Standing up, Dixon slips his shorts out of the way and lets them fall to the floor. My eyes immediately drop to his cock as he wraps his hand around the thick shaft and begins stroking it while he watches me. The light catches on the four balls on the tip and my eyes shoot to his. “It’s a magic cross, you’ll love it.”

“OK,” I finally manage to say. He slides onto the bed, kneeling between my thighs as he continues to stroke his cock.

“As I was saying, you’re not comin’ unless my cock’s inside you. I wanna feel every quiver, every pulse your pussy makes. And I wanna feel you clench as the balls of that cross rub all the right places inside you and make you scream. Then, and only then, am I gonna let you come.”

I nod and Dixon goes back to the task at hand. Me. He slides his fingers back into me, swiping them through the wetness before opening me and following the same path with the head of his cock. When he hits my clit, I whimper again. Thankfully he doesn’t torture me that way for long before finally thrusting into me. He drives in and out of me with such force that it steals my breath. Everything he said he makes good on and I’m positive that I’ll feel him for days because he’s so rough. He pounds into me, relentless and unforgiving, with his eyes locked on mine. Every time I’m close to coming he pulls out, stealing my release from me, and shakes his head with a smile.

Sliding up my body, Dixon runs a hand under my back and grabs a fist full of hair, yanking it until my back arches and my neck is exposed. His other hand moves my bra out of the way and he latches onto my nipple, sucking and biting. He thrusts back into me, and I scream. God, it feels so good to scream. It’s cathartic. Between the tension on my hair, the teeth on my nipple, and the merciless thrusting into my pussy, I’m on sensory overload and I explode. Dixon releases my nipple so he can shift and get better leverage, driving into me as hard and as fast as he can while my body tenses up under him. He doesn’t stop until he follows me over the edge and collapses on top of me.

I can’t hear anything that Dixon is muttering into my neck over our heavy breathing and the screaming in my head, but I feel his lips moving against my skin. His stubble-covered cheeks scrape my skin, turning me on even though my mind screams at me, calling me a whore. I push against his chest, knowing that if I don’t get him away from me right now, it’s going to happen again, and I can’t let that happen.

Dixon groans, but pushes off the bed and out of sight like I wanted. I shift and have to bite my lip to keep from crying. If I’m this sore already, how the hell am I going to hide this from Gunnar?
Oh God, Gunnar
… Reaching up, I wipe the tears already forming in the corners of my eyes away before they fall. How the hell could I do this to him? Not only did I cheat on my husband, but I did it with his best friend.

In the span of a few hours I’ve managed to not only throw a ten year marriage down the drain, but decades worth of friendship between us all as well.

When Dixon walks back out of the bathroom, he doesn’t even look my way before leaving the room.

Awesome… the awkwardness has already started
.

Jumping from the bed, I grab the clothes he handed me before all this started and rush into the bathroom. After cleaning up, I slip into Dixon’s oversized shirt and shorts and stare at myself. Everything feels different, not just the clothes. I don’t even recognize the woman staring back at me. Swollen lips, messed up slut hair, and another man’s clothes and scent covering my body. This isn’t the woman I ever wanted to be.

Taking a deep breath, I open the door, and without looking toward the messed up bed, I head down to the living room. I have every intention of trying to crash on the couch for a few hours before heading home to watch my life crash and burn, but the sight of Dixon in the chair next to it stops me in my tracks. With his elbows resting on his knees, he stares at his hands, shaking his head as he mutters something too low for me to hear. Maybe now that he’s sobering up he realizes how much of a mistake this was too.

I turn around before he sees me and climb the stairs back to his room.

Grabbing my phone off the nightstand, I curl up in the chair in the corner. With my knees pulled up into my chest, I text Lynsey because she’s the one person I know of that won’t judge me, or immediately go running to Gunnar.

Worst person in the world award goes to this girl.

I try to keep my eyes open in case she wakes up and texts me back, but it doesn’t happen. I cry myself to sleep, curled into a ball in the chair with my phone in hand.

The vibrating of a phone and the movement of the bed wake me, but it isn’t my husband staring at me when I open my eyes. I jolt back, groaning when the movement makes everything hurt, and everything that Dixon did to me last night floods my mind. Reaching over me, he grabs my phone and holds it out for me. I stare at his hand as if it’s going to bite me. When I don’t reach out for it, he drops it on the bed next to me and slides out from between the sheets, disappearing into the bathroom.

The photo on the screen taunts me as my phone continues to ring. My husband’s face and beaming smile mock me as if he knows what I’ve done.

He can’t know. Ever. It would kill him and the last thing I ever want to do is hurt Gunnar.

Hmm. Maybe, you should have thought about that, Kennedy.

My brain battles against letting me answer because I’m scared he’ll hear the guilt in my voice, but I force myself to do it anyway.

“Hey,” I mumble once the phone is to my ear.

“Why would you do something like that?” My face pales and I rush to get out of the bed because I need to move. This situation calls for pacing, right? How did I get in the bed? He knows. How the hell does he fucking know? “Drinking and fucking driving, Kennedy. What the hell were you thinking?”

My racing heart slows down a bit, but the urge to vomit is still very present. Blowing out a deep breath, I sag back against the wall. “I thought I was fine, but it hit me all at once when we were almost here. I’m so sorry.” I wonder if that apology was because I drank and drove, or because I let Dixon fuck me last night.

I hear him blow out an aggravated breath before sighing. “I woke up to no wife, and a message about you drinking and driving. It wasn’t the way I wanted to start my morning.”

Well, I woke up in bed with your best friend. I bet that would top the list of things you don’t want your wife to do…

“I said I was sorry, Gunnar. Nobody is going to feel worse about what happened last night than I do, because I didn’t just put myself in jeopardy. I get it. I’ll be home in a bit.” Without waiting for him to say anything, I hang up and drag my hands through my knotted up hair, wincing when I pull against my tender scalp.

"I warned you that you were gonna be sore."

My head snaps up, stopping when I find Dixon smirking at me. I want nothing more than to slap the cocky asshole right now, but I can’t get my feet to move. “You think this is funny?”

“You wanted it just as much as I did, Kennedy. Don’t get it twisted in your pretty little head. I may have started it, but you sure as hell didn’t stop me.”

“I cheated on my husband because you started it!”

In three long strides he has me pushed back against the wall. With a hand on either side of my head, he stoops down until he’s eye level with me. “Do you think I planned on sleepin’ with my best friend’s wife? I’d rather cut off my arm than hurt Gunnar and you fuckin’ know that shit. Time to face the facts, sunshine, it happened and we can't change it now. I needed sex, you needed a good rough fuckin’.” My hand shoots up, slapping him hard across the side of his face. Dixon growls and grabs my hands, pinning them beside my head and when I struggle to pull them away, he tightens his grip. “Don’t deny it, Kennedy. I saw a side of you last night that I doubt Gunnar has ever seen. Does he know that you want to be fucked so hard you forget your name? Does he know that you scream in ecstasy when your hair is bein’ pulled and a thick cock is bein’ driven into your pussy? I bet you silently beg him to fuck your sweet ass and he won’t do it. He’s scared, Kennedy. He’s scared he’s gonna hurt you, just like you’re scared to tell him you want it.”

“You don’t know shit, Dixon.”

I swear the fucker laughs just before slamming his lips against mine again. I struggle, trying to push him away, but it’s no use. My head is screaming at me that this is wrong, but my body doesn’t seem to get the message. Again, Dixon knows the second I give in to him because he lets go of my hands and slides them into my hair, tightening his grip until I gasp. He takes advantage of my weak moment and kisses me harder. My mind continues to scream at me to push him away, but my body wants nothing more than to pull him closer and have a repeat of last night.

Pulling away, Dixon grins down at me. “Told you you want what I can give you. Even if you can’t admit it to yourself.” Turning around, he walks from the room with his shoulders shaking with laughter. “Get your ass washed up and in the truck, Kennedy. We don’t want to keep Gunnar waitin’ so long that he comes lookin’, because who knows what will happen if you’re still in the shower when I come back in.”

"I hate you, Dixon Hale!" I yell after him.

"Tell that to your pussy, Kennedy," he hollers back. "At least that set of lips doesn't lie."

Blowing out a frustrated breath, I rush into the bathroom and shower as fast as I possibly can. Am I afraid that he'll make good on his threat of coming in here and make a liar out of me again? You can bet your ass I am. I shouldn't want him. I don't want to. I love Gunnar— I've loved him ever since we were teenagers—but Dixon was right when he said something is missing.

As I'm drying off, my phone vibrates on the counter and when I grab it, I get lost in the amount of text messages from Lynsey. They range from "Um why", to "You fucking whore, since you won't text me back you now have to work today." The door swings open just as I pull my shirt over my head.

"Well hell, I was hopin’ you were still in there naked and wet. I could have dirtied you up some more and then cleaned you up before takin’ you home."

The fact that I have to go home punches me in the gut. The guilt builds up even more, making the need to vomit hit me again. I finish pulling my shirt into place and shove past him so I can leave. Every step I take toward the truck makes me feel even sicker and when I climb in, Gunnar's scent surrounds me. If it weren't for the fact that Dixon was sliding in beside me right now, I would probably break down and cry again. Instead, I suck it up and tell myself that I can do that later when no one is around. I slam the truck into gear and only turn in Dixon's direction when I need to look out the window or use the mirror. He doesn't say anything the entire ride, but I can feel him staring at me every now and then, and I know if I were to turn and look at him I would lose it.

I’ll be damned if I’ll give Dixon Hale the fucking satisfaction.

The second we pull into the driveway and the truck is off, I barrel out and rush into the bathroom, somehow avoiding Gunnar on my way. I need another shower. I need to scrub myself clean and hopefully wash some of this guilt down the drain. I know it's impossible, but I need to try. Turning the knob on as hot as I can get it, I climb in and let the water pour over me. I open my mouth, letting the water rush over my tongue and try to get the taste of Dixon off my lips before I see Gunnar.

Gunnar says something and Dixon starts laughing in the kitchen when I finally get out and get dressed. Laughing. Like he didn’t just screw his best friend’s wife. Am I the only one with guilt in this situation?

When Gunnar notices me, he pushes away from the table and wraps his arms around me, burying his face in my neck. It’s the same spot that Dixon had his last night and I pray that I was able to get the scent of him off of me so Gunnar doesn’t notice. He holds me like nothing is wrong, even though it is, and it kills me.