Page 2 of Dean (Unexpected #9)

CHAPTER TWO

AVERY

Dean leaves to go back to work shortly after giving me a sexual awakening, insisting that I stay and settle in.

I settled right in on his bed and rolled around a little like the creep I am. I tried to resist, to talk myself out of it, but my legs carried me there all on their own. And while lying there, I started rubbing one out while holding one of his shirts against my face, inhaling the scent of him. I imagined him above me, those shoulders bunching, his pupils blown out.

Who owns you, Avery? Who is going to make you come?

My imagination ran wild, conjuring up visions of his hand wrapping around my dick, his tongue sliding up my neck. Biting, sucking, marking.

Oh, fucking mark me.

I came with a shout, his name on my lips. The windows rattled a little, and I felt myself shudder in complete shock.

My new roommate would be absolutely horrified if he knew what I was doing while he was at work, I’m sure. Because Dean is not gay. Not at all .

But I am. I’m so fucking into dudes and dicks…and Dean.

Mainly Dean and all his bits.

“Avery?” the man of my dreams calls out, and I feel my cheeks flush because I feel guilty and horny all over again. I should have behaved with some decorum—definitely should not have rolled around on his bed like a heathen. What if he smells my cum in there? What if he finds out what I did?

He’d probably…well, I don’t know what he’d do, but it wouldn’t end with him inviting me into bed with him.

That would never happen.

If he found out, he’d probably throw me right out. Just like my parents did. Just like my roommates did. It’s what I’ve come to expect, honestly. I never stay in one place long.

“In here,” I say from the kitchen. I’ve already organized my stuff in the guest room—it didn’t take me long at all—and then moved on to the kitchen cabinets. They were abhorrent and unorganized. I had to do my due diligence and sort them.

And I did. I sorted them so nicely. Dean will never be able to find a thing. If I stay here longer, I may tackle some of the closets I peeked into and even the garage.

But now I’m making dinner.

I have to make myself useful now that I’m living here for the time being, and maybe, sort of sell the fact that I would make an excellent lover. Or husband.

I could go either way.

My phone buzzes and I stare down at it. A missed call from an unknown number. It’s the second one today but they haven’t left a message.

I bet it’s Nick, wanting to be a dickhole. He told me he wasn’t through with me when I left. I don’t know what that means, but he was obviously very offended by my choice of clothing and lipstick.

It could just be a spam call , I think as I delete it.

I won’t let it get to me, not until I’m certain it’s him. Then I’ll have other things to worry about.

“Smells good,” Dean says, reaching into the fridge to grab a beer. He pops the top and the cap flicks onto the counter .

“Yes, well, I’m an amazing chef. Just so you know. I didn’t have it on my resumé, so you’d never have known.”

He eyes me curiously. I changed out of my overalls and am now wearing low-slung joggers and a purple crop top. Hmm, I probably should have put on something a bit less revealing. Although, he doesn’t seem bothered by my new attire, more curious than anything, so I just let it go.

Dean’s son is gay, for fuck’s sake. It’s not like he doesn’t have experience being around gay men, though Ben isn’t quite as out as I am.

“You settle in okay?” he asks, and I nod, holding out a spoon of marinara sauce for him to try.

His lips wrap around the utensil, and I nearly groan from how hot he looks sucking the sauce off of it.

Jesus, this man could make porn. I don’t even care that he’s like way older than me. I’d watch him bathe in spaghetti noodles, slathered in sauce.

Gimme. I want it all.

“Mmm,” he says, his eyes sparkling. “So fucking good, Avery.”

The way he says my name makes my dick harden and my nipples pebble. Oh, Lord have mercy on my privates. I cannot with this man.

“So glad you approve,” I say, shifting my hips a little, trying to hide how he’s affected me. The crop top is one thing, him seeing my boner is another. That’s crossing one too many lines.

“Now, go take a shower. You’re filthy,” I say, waving him away with my spoon.

Dean glances down at himself and his eyebrows rise.

“Am I?”

I nod, needing some space. God, he smells good. I can imagine myself bent over the counter, his dirty hands all over me, smearing me with grease. He’d fuck me raw too, just grunting, filthy, and sweaty.

I’d so let him do that. I so would. Then I’d lick the sweat right off him afterward.

“All right, if you say so,” he murmurs, taking his beer and disappearing into the bathroom. I bet he drinks that while standing under the warm water. I bet he strokes his cock while he sips on it .

I want to watch that one day. Just a redneck jerk-off session, drinking a cold one in the shower.

Ten minutes later, he appears back in the kitchen, sans shirt, in only low-riding sweatpants.

Huge mistake. Now my dick is aching. Mayday! Mayday! Get me out of here.

This is worse than grease stain fantasies. This is like straight-up gay porn.

“Go sit down,” I demand, and I know I’m being abrupt, but really, if I smell his soap I may just prematurely ejaculate. I’m this close to coming my eyeballs out. And I need those so I can see this man.

“So fucking bossy,” he mutters, and I sigh.

“You love it. It’s why you hired me and moved me in. You need a boss, Dean. You need someone to boss your ass around.”

He doesn’t know how much I’d boss him around.

Take off your clothes, Dean. Stick your big dick in me, Dean. Harder, Dean.

Bossy bitch. That’s me.

Thank fuck he can’t hear my filthy thoughts and instead, just sinks down onto his chair as I bring him a big bowl of spaghetti and meatballs. I set it down in front of him along with a side salad, and then preen. It’s delicious and I know he’ll like it. I’m a damn good cook. It’s the one thing I learned from my parents. Well, I didn’t learn from them. I had to learn how to take care of myself at a young age because they were inept and didn’t care enough to actually care for me.

I’ve been cooking for myself since I was eight. I knew if I wanted to eat, this is what I was going to have to do. So I learned. And I’m damn good at it. I mean, I had a baby sister to take care of. I wasn’t just going to let her starve.

For a moment, I think of Amanda and wonder how she is. I should call her and see if she can chat. Sometimes she’s able to sneak away and talk, but other times, our parents are home and forbid it. They don’t want her to have anything to do with me.

Because I like men. To them, it’s a sin.

“Gonna make me eat the green shit too?” he asks, arching an eyebrow at me and pulling my thoughts away from my sister .

“If you don’t, you’ll get a spanking like the bad boy you are,” I joke, and he smiles at me.

“Oh, Avery,” he begins, his voice rough. “If anyone is getting spanked, it’s gonna be you.”

My mouth falls open and I gape at him, my dick fully hard now. He sees it too, I know he does. I mean, honestly, what did he expect? You can’t taunt horny gay guys like this. This is our kryptonite.

“You shouldn’t tease me like that,” I murmur, grabbing my own food and sitting down opposite him. I shift in my chair uncomfortably, trying to will my dick to go down. He’s watching me intently, stabbing at his salad with his fork.

“Sorry. You’re just easy to fluster,” he says, his hand stilling.

“Yeah, well, you say things I don’t expect and you look like…that,” I say, waving my fork at him. “Anyone would fluster.”

He grunts a laugh and takes another sip of beer. “I’m sorry. I’ll tone it down. You’re too easy to tease. And I like throwing you off your game.”

“Well, you did. Congratulations. I’m completely thrown.” As is my dick, but whatever. It can deal with rejection. It has been coping since I started working for Dean. I tell it no on a daily basis.

“Now, eat your salad,” I mutter. “It’s good for you.”

“You sound like my wife,” he grumbles and meets my stare.

“Good, she’d be glad I’m here taking care of your sorry ass.”

He chuckles at that and then says, “She’d be happy you’re here. She would love you.”

“Yeah?” I ask, and he nods, smiling softly at me.

“Yeah. Hey, you can say no if you want, but if you’re feeling up to it, how about after dinner, we go for a ride? Unless you have plans…”

My heartbeat picks up, my dick straining toward him. “On the motorcycle?”

“Yep.”

“If you insist,” I reply, acting casual when in reality I am so fucking ready. I mean, how could I say no? I get to sit behind that muscular body and wrap my arms around his waist while he drives me off into the sunset.

If that’s not romantic and sexy as fuck, I don’t know what is.

“So, I’m going to be straddling you?” I ask as I stare at Dean’s thighs in those jeans he pulled on. They’re big and thick. Just like his hands. Just like his chest.

Everything about him is perfectly edible.

I’m turning into a cannibal. I want to lean down and take a bite out of him.

“Yeah. You’re gonna have to hold on unless you want to see what it feels like to fly.”

I wet my lips, taking the helmet from him and clipping it beneath my chin.

“All right. I guess I can do this.” At least I changed into something more appropriate before getting on his bike. I’m currently wearing loose, flowy pants and a sweatshirt to keep the chill of the wind from my skin. Probably should have worn jeans. Are jeans a motorcycle thing? I don’t know but Dean hasn’t said anything so I assume it’s fine.

“You can do it,” he says as I touch his strong shoulders and throw my leg over the seat. My ass hits the leather and my hands clench for a moment before I spread my fingers and wrap them around his waist.

“Good?” he asks, and I feel the rumble of his voice through his back. It travels over me and I can’t help but shiver.

“Yeah.”

“Haven’t taken anyone on a bike in a long time, Avery. Seems you’re special.”

He revs the engine at that and takes off down the gravel drive, making my heart skip a beat as I cling to him.

What does that mean? Special? Between that and the spanking comment earlier I’m halfway down the aisle already.

My body leans into his and I press my cheek to his spine as he flies us down the freeway, turning off at one point to make a sharp turn onto a small road. With a twist of his wrist, we’re climbing a small hill. I hold on tighter, feeling the rumble of the engine beneath my thighs and the tingle between my legs.

Everything about this is potent .

When he finally slows down and turns the engine off, I’m still clutched to him.

“I need a minute,” I squeak as I try to peel my cold hands away from his body. I may drag them slightly across his abdomen and feel the ripple of his muscles beneath my palms.

“You okay?” Dean asks, his voice low as he touches my hands gently. His are warm and calloused, and I love the way his skin feels against mine.

“Yep. Just…well, I just need a minute to unclench.”

He huffs a small laugh and then waits patiently for me to peel myself off the bike. I stand on wobbly legs and bend to massage my tingling muscles.

“Here. Let me,” he says as he unbuckles the helmet and takes it from my head. My hair is a mess and I brush my fingers through it, wincing when they get caught in the tangles.

“You need a braid,” Dean says, cocking his head at me.

“Yeah. I do.”

I grin at him, pulling my hair over my shoulder and then sighing. “It’s fine. I’ll live. Now show me why you brought me up here. Unless you plan to murder me. Then have at it.”

Dean makes a face. “I’m not going to murder you.”

He sets the helmets on the seat and then nods toward the right. “Come on.”

I have no choice but to follow him. The only light on our path is from the moon and stars above. As we round a corner and skirt past some trees, I see it—the twinkling, vast expanse of the city below.

A gasp leaves me. “Oh my god! This is amazing.”

I walk toward the edge, and Dean’s hand wraps around my waist, keeping me from tumbling forward.

“Careful. It’s a steep drop-off.”

My breath exhales shakily as his hand slips from me.

“But yeah, this place is amazing. I figured you hadn’t been here before. It’s a bit of a hidden gem.” He pauses, stepping up next to me. His arm brushes against mine, and I shiver slightly. “Elaine loved it up here.”

“Your wife?” I ask and he nods, swallowing .

“Haven’t been up here in forever. Forgot how much I liked it at night.” He folds his arms across his chest and glances up at the moon. “We’d sit up here for hours and just talk.”

“I bet you miss that.”

He peers over at me and nods. “I do. I miss the companionship. But I do really miss her. We…we didn’t get enough time.”

I can’t imagine. To have someone you love and to lose them like that. I don’t know much about her, but I did hear Ben mention her once.

“Well, I know I’m no Elaine, but I’m glad you showed me this place. I love it.”

I step to the side and then walk over to a rickety wooden bench, lowering myself onto it. I bet this is where Dean and Elaine sat, chatting for hours. I stare at the space next to me and a moment later, Dean is there, his arm touching mine once more.

It’s becoming a bit of a problem. I mean, really. Can he just not? It’s giving me all sorts of ideas that I most definitely shouldn’t have.

Especially since I can’t stop thinking about sex when I’m near him and he’s still a grieving widower. Even if it has been twenty years.

I need to rein it in. I really need to stop being such a pervert.

“What would you two talk about?” I ask softly, and Dean shrugs.

“Everything. She talked all the fucking time. About anything. I could listen to her for hours. Somehow she loved me and wanted to marry me, even though I was quiet. And Ben, well, he’s not like her at all. He’s introverted and shy. Kinda like his old man.”

“I mean, I don’t think you’re so bad.”

“I’m something,” he huffs.

“Does he look like her?”

He peers over at me, but I keep my gaze out on the twinkling horizon. I’ve never seen any pictures of her, at work or even at his house. I wonder where they are.

“Yeah. He does.”

“That’s so cool. I mean, I don’t have kids, obviously, but it must be nice to look at him and see her.”

He nods and then leans back slightly, his legs spread before him, his boots rustling the dry dirt beneath our feet .

“Yeah, it’s something all right.” He sighs and then clears his throat. “Not that I meant to make this all about me.”

“Oh, I don’t mind. I do love to listen.”

“Seems so. You handle old Randal on the phone really well when he calls.”

“He’s just a lonely old fart who has nothing better to do. I don’t mind listening to him bitch.”

“And that’s why I hired you, you know? You’re good with people and very organized. Both of which I clearly lack.”

“You do. You really suck at both.”

Dean chuckles and nudges me softly. The bench creaks under our combined weight and I hold my breath for fear of falling.

“You want to sit here for a bit? Or head back home?”

“I wouldn’t mind just sitting here for a while. Would love to make some memories here.”

He lets out a long breath and then murmurs, “Good.”

We sit like that, just existing side by side for long moments until the moon is slowly covered by clouds. A cold wind floats over me and I shiver. At this moment, I’m enjoying just being with him, having this companionship.

“Best to get back,” Dean says softly, and I stand up, brushing the back of my pants off as I move toward the bike.

“Probably a good idea. Don’t want to turn into a popsicle by the time we get home.”

I mean, if I did, would he lick me up?

I slap that thought away.

Really, get it together, Avery. You’re better than your dick.

Dean hands me the helmet, and I put it on my head, tucking my hair into my sweatshirt. Not that it will do much. I’m sure it will just be pulled out as soon as Dean whips us down the road.

“I was thinking about taking the long way home. If that’s okay with you?”

My heart flutters when I see the excitement on his face. “Yeah. I think that sounds real good, Dean.”

“Oh god,” I say, my legs suddenly feeling like jelly. When he said we’d take the long way home, I didn’t realize how much of a workout it was for my thighs clenching around him as he tore down the road.

I mean, it was fucking hot, and I had a semi the entire time, but now I need a massage and a hot bath. I don’t think I could ever ride a horse. I wasn’t made to be a cowboy.

“You sore?” Dean asks, a chuckle escaping him.

“I fucking am. I was afraid I’d fly off if I didn’t hold on tight enough when you tore down the freeway. You couldn’t take me for a nice leisurely first ride? Break me in slowly?”

“I never ride slow.” The way his voice lowers makes it sound filthier than he probably meant it.

I would so let him fuck me rough and fast. I so would.

“Well, I’m going to go shower,” I say because I need a cold one and maybe a quick handy.

“Why do you need a shower?”

I arch an eyebrow at Dean. “I smell like the outdoors. Like wind.”

Dean’s lips twitch as he takes a step toward me, and I nearly faint at how close he is.

He lowers his face to the hair near my temple and inhales deeply, and I bite my lip to keep a moan inside. Oh, this is bad, bad, bad. He just opened up about his dead wife and here I am, fantasizing again.

I really need to get my shit together. I need to behave with decorum. Although, with the way I was raised, that may be easier said than done.

“You smell like Avery,” he murmurs, and my eyes flutter closed. How the hell does he know what I smell like?

He should not be saying these romantic things to me.

I already have the wedding dress picked out, and now I’m writing our wedding vows.

He steps away and suddenly, I can breathe again. My god, this man is walking sexual tension. He emits it like a pheromone. It’s his superpower. He could take down several cities just by existing.

“Fine. Go shower and then let’s watch a movie. What do you like?”

“Are you sure? Don’t you want some time alone?”

He pauses and then rubs at his jaw. “Am I coming on too strong? You are welcome to just go to your room and hide out. Or I could give you some space. I’m sure you have friends and things to do…”

Oh god, that’s not it at all.

I want to spend time with him. I may cling and never let go if he keeps this up.

“Um, no. I don’t want to hide away. And I don’t have any friends really. I just didn’t want to overstep.”

“I’m the one inviting you to watch a movie, Avery.”

I sigh and nod. “Of course. Just being cautious, is all.”

Dean takes a step toward me but stops before he gets too close.

“Listen, I know your other roommates were shits, but I’m a straight shooter. I’ll tell you if I need space. I won’t lie to you.”

“Yeah, okay. Well, then, how about we watch one of those true-crime dramas?” I suggest, a little too giddy over the prospect. Nothing makes me twist and turn in bed like wondering if the Night Stalker is outside my window trying to get in.

Maybe if I get really scared, I can sneak into Dean’s bed and convince him to hold me and chase those monsters away. One can only hope.

Dean cocks his head, his hand running across his jaw. “I figured you were more of a romance kind of guy,” he says.

“I like those too, but I’m in the mood for a little murder right now.”

I really don’t need anything romantic right now. I might end up swooning.

Dean’s hand falls from his face and he steps back. “All right, meet me out here when you’re done. I’ll make some popcorn.”

I take that opportunity to walk away, lest I crawl up that delicious body and scare the daylights out of him. I’m mostly sure that this man would not appreciate me coming on to him.

Although, the way he looks at me sometimes…

Nope. It’s just the punch to the face. My brain is still rattled. Should probably get the doctor to check my brain out.

I grab my phone and stare down at it, seeing the continued missed calls. I feel my cheeks heat and my heart rate accelerate.

Without thinking too hard on it, I send a message.

Me:

Nick, if this is you, you better stop. Or I’ll call the police for harassment.

I don’t look at it again. Just turn my phone off and head to the bathroom. If it is Nick who is blowing up my phone then he can wait. I won’t let him interfere with my mini-date with Dean.

After showering—and jacking off for good measure, Dean’s name on my lips as I exploded all over the wall—I meet the man of my dreams in the living room. I’m back in my favorite joggers and a tight crop top, green this time.

I just like the way he looks at me when I wear this, like he’s not quite sure what to do about me. He’s probably never in his life seen a man dress like this. His son sure as fuck doesn’t. Well, I can’t wait to see what he thinks about me in a skirt.

God, his head will explode. And hopefully his cock.

All over me, of course.

I’d like that very much, please and thank you.

No, nope. Not thinking dirty things. Not tonight. Tomorrow maybe. But tonight, I will behave. I will be the Queen of England. Proper and uptight. With a stick, not a dildo, up my ass.

As I walk to the couch, I brush out my long hair, trying to get the tangles out. Infernal hair. It didn’t stay inside my shirt like I planned, and the ride whipped it this way and that.

I may never recover from this.

“How long have you been growing out your hair?” he asks.

“Hmm, maybe like five years or so?”

“It’s real pretty. Want me to braid it?” he asks. I’m so shocked by his compliment and his question that the brush tumbles from my hand and falls to the floor.

“Excuse me?” I ask, meeting his stare.

He clears his throat and then asks again, “Want me to braid your hair? I’m a little rusty, but I can. Used to do this for Elaine before rides. Should have offered earlier.”

My mouth just hangs open, and I can’t quite find the words.

“I’m sorry, you braid hair? ”

“I said what I said.”

A laugh escapes me, and I shrug. “Fine, Dean, show me your skills. Impress me.”

He spreads his thick thighs, and I settle on the floor between them, handing him my brush and hair tie. My hair is one of the things I’m most proud of. It’s thick, long and lush. I know men like grabbing it when they fuck into me.

I mean, how could you not? It’s so grabbable.

Dean runs the brush through the damp strands, his fingers grazing the back of my neck as he does, and my entire body lights up.

What does he think of me right now? Does he like me with long hair? Would he like me in my skirt and heels? Or would he become like my ex-roommate, angry and uncomfortable at the sight?

I don’t know, and I suddenly really need to know the answer.

I want to know so bad. I need to know if he will accept me as I am…or who I want to be.

He brushes out the strands for quite a while, and my eyes start to droop from the tug on my scalp, from the rhythmic stroke of the brush across my back. And then finally, I feel his fingers part the strands and start working the pieces over each other.

A curse escapes his mouth at one point and he sighs. “Gonna start over.”

I don’t fucking mind. I am just happy he’s touching me.

Keep touching me, Dean. This is my kind of heaven.

When he’s finally done, he grunts. “Yeah, could use some work, but not bad. Elaine would be proud.”

Ah yes. I have to remember that. He’s straight. This means nothing.

But still, I have a heart. This isn’t about me. I turn my head, my chin resting on his bent knee, and I meet his eyes.

“How long has it been?” I ask, even though I know the answer. I want to hear it from him.

Dean rolls the tip of my braid around his finger and shrugs.

“Twenty years. It gets easier each year. It’s been so long that it’s almost like a distant memory that I can look back on fondly. ”

“I get that,” I say and then turn my face so my chin is resting on his thigh. “You ever want to remarry?”

Dean reaches out and his finger traces the line of my cheekbone. I don’t think he realizes he’s doing it, but my god, my heart.

“If I find the right person.”

And I don’t miss the way he says person , not specifying gender. It gives my silly little heart some hope.

I could be his person. I could so be his person.

No, bad Avery. No.

“Your legs still hurting you?” he asks, his voice a little gruff.

“I mean, yes, but it’s nothing that a light massage won’t fix. Anyway, we need to watch the movie. We need to find out who killed all those people.”

He turns his gaze to the TV screen and nods.

“Yeah, nothing more exciting than a nighttime movie about murder.”

I scramble up next to him and bob my head. “Oh, you have no idea. And where’s the popcorn?”

“Shit. Forgot it.”

I pop up and head toward the kitchen, Dean right behind me.

“You don’t know where it is.”

He pulls open a cabinet and rustles around, coming out with a packet of popcorn.

“How old is this?” I ask, and he shrugs.

“Popcorn doesn’t go bad.”

I snatch it from his hand and stare at it. “Dean. This is from fifteen years ago.”

His eyes crinkle at the corners. “No shit?”

“Yeah. Shit. I’m not eating this. We will die.”

He huffs a small laugh and then leans forward again, rustling around a bit more. Seems I’m going to have to rearrange this cabinet as well. Which is fine. I’m living here for the time being. I can make myself useful.

He pulls out another bag, and I check the date. It’s expired, but it’s not nearly as old as the previous one, so I let it go .

“This is acceptable. But Dean, be warned. I will be throwing away all this old shit when I go through these cabinets.”

“You going to organize my life?” he asks as he pops it in the microwave. It beeps and he turns to me, his arms folded across his chest. He’s wearing his sweats again and a tight white t-shirt. He must have changed while I was in the shower.

I just didn’t really notice it until now.

I can see his nipples through his thin shirt and the faint outline of the tattoos on his chest, and I find myself wheezing. I want to explore each one. I wonder if they have any meaning. Or if he was just young and dumb and got whatever looked good at the time.

Thankfully, before I can say anything, the popcorn starts to explode, the bag puffing up, and a minute later we’re back on the couch, sitting side by side, eating right out of the bag.

“I mean, the butter is a little un-buttery, but I can cope,” I say around a mouthful of popcorn.

“Yeah? I can’t tell a difference.”

“That’s because your tastebuds are old. Like you.”

He snorts and shoves at me before handing me the bag for another well-placed scoop. As I do this, he turns the murder doc on and I settle into the couch, pulling my knees up onto the cushion and dragging a blanket over my lap.

“God, I love this. I can already tell you who the murderer is.”

Dean eyes me. “Should I be concerned now that you’re living with me?”

“Um, no. I’m not a creep.” Only slightly. Like when I masturbated on your bed with your shirt up my nose. But I don’t say that. Just stuff my mouth with more popcorn. “I mean, I won’t kill you in your sleep. You don’t have to worry about me lingering over your bed and like, staring at you while you sleep with a knife in my hand.”

Dean’s eyes crinkle and he lets out a loud laugh. “What the fuck, Avery?”

My cheeks flush. “Yeah. Well, you get the point. Anyway, let’s just watch the movie, yeah?”

“I mean, I kind of want to hear more about your lurking around the house with a knife. Should I sleep with my door locked? ”

Probably should, Dean.

“I won’t be coming into your room. I’m respectable.”

“I know you are.” His voice is serious now and he turns back to the TV. “I do trust you. Wouldn’t have invited you to live here if I didn’t.”

“Good.”

I stuff more popcorn into my mouth and stare at the screen.

I will behave. I will be the best, most respectable roommate ever.

I promise.