Page 5 of Dean (Unexpected #9)

CHAPTER FIVE

AVERY

“Hi there!” It’s an hour to close and a man meanders in. I’m currently perched on the edge of Ben’s desk on the main floor, and both of us turn to fix our gazes on the pale guy. His hair is a mess, his shirt is slightly crumpled, and an eyeball hangs from the necklace chain on his chest.

Odd, but you know, I dig it. I’m sure it’s not real and more goth than anything. Wonder where he got it.

“Hi, how can I help you?” I ask.

The man bounces on his feet and clutches his hands in front of him. “Oh, what great service. And I really like your hair,” he says to me before grinning widely.

“Oh, thank you,” I say, touching the end of my braid.

“Such a pretty scalp.”

I cock my head, and he wets his lips. “But that’s not why I’m here. I was wondering if you did special orders?”

My eyebrows rise. “Yeah, the guys do. What were you thinking?”

He spreads his hands and sighs. “Bones. And blood. I mean…not actual blood. That wouldn’t last. But a dark red. Blood red. ”

Ben and I glance at each other, and I purse my lips, not sure whether to laugh or run. “Anything else? Like, what kind of vehicle were you thinking?”

“Oh! Oh, well, I don’t know. I’d defer to the guys. I know nothing about cars. Just that I want one.” He leans toward us and moves his hands emphatically. “It’s going to be called the Boned Collector.”

“Do you mean Bone Collector?”

“No. Boned. Bones. All the bones and boning.”

“Spooky,” Ben whispers, and the man turns his head toward him.

“Some call it spooky. I think it’s sexy.”

I clear my throat and bite back a smile at how sincere he is. You know what? I can’t even be creeped out. He’s likable. In a weird, undefinable way. “How did you hear about us—do you have a name?”

“Oh. I’m Bane.” He reaches his hand out, and I shake it. Ben is a little more hesitant. Though Bane doesn’t seem bothered by that. “Anthony told me about this place. Said it was the best and you don’t ask questions.”

“Anthony Costello?” Ben asks.

“Yes.” He eyes Ben and then me once more, taking a step forward and tucking his hands in his pockets. “Think we can work something out?”

“Let me get Dean and Ford. See what they think.”

The guy seems to sag slightly, and I can’t help but ask. “You have an interesting name? How did you get it?”

“Oh!” He perks up slightly. “I made it up myself.”

“Oh. That’s cool.”

He grins at me widely. “It is cool. It’s why I picked it.”

I let out a small laugh and then throw a thumb over my shoulder. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

I walk farther into the shop and see Dean bending over the engine of a car, Ford standing next to him as they speak.

At that moment, I forget how to move, how to walk. I stumble forward, and Ford huffs in amusement.

“Avery’s here.”

Dean stands up so fast, he almost clips his head on the hood of the car .

“Shit,” he murmurs as he turns around and sees me standing there. “Hey.”

“Hi, I have a guy up front asking about a custom build. Anthony sent him.”

Both of their eyebrows rise and they stalk forward, putting me behind them. Almost as if to protect me. Not that I think Bane would harm anyone. He seems more of a golden retriever than anything.

And I know Anthony isn’t a great guy, that he operates in the gray, but this is a bit dramatic. Even for them.

When we approach Bane and Ben, the two of them talking like old friends, Bane stands up straight.

“Hello. I’ve heard so much about you.” His eyes slide over their bodies. “My, oh my, you are both very hot.” He fans his face, and I can’t help but chuckle. They are hot. Ben though, his lips are turned down and he’s blushing, almost angrily.

“I’d love a picture with you. Oh, you have nice veins.”

He steps toward Dean, and I move in front of him. It might be possessive, but I do it anyway.

Plus, I found him first. I’m not going to just let him be snatched away.

“Why don’t you tell them what you’d like?” I suggest.

Bane’s bottom lip juts out. “Right, well I was thinking a vehicle I can put…people in. And I’d like it blood red. Made entirely of bones…”

“And where would we get these bones?” Ford asks.

“Oh, I have…lots of props. They’re not real at all. Very fake. But it might take a while to find the exact ones I want.”

He waggles his eyebrows at us, and I can’t help but chuckle at how silly all of this is. When he walked in, I had no idea what he’d request.

“Right. Bones. And this is what you want your car built out of?”

“Yes, I was thinking kind of like a buggy, something compact but with a trunk…for…things that aren’t dead bodies.” He shifts on his feet and grins. “I totally don’t kill people in my free time. That would be crazy. And very illegal.”

Dean’s eyebrows rise, and Ford rolls his eyes. “All right. We can draw something up. You can come back in and we can discuss specifics. And we take a down payment beforehand for the build. ”

“Of course. I have so much money!” He claps his hands and then leans toward Ben slightly. “Did I tell you you’re so pretty? I love your eyes.”

“Fuck off,” Ford grumbles, stepping toward Bane and making him shrink back, his hands in the air.

“Of course. I totally love to fuck. Any of you, really. Let me know if you’d like me bent over. But anyway! That’s beside the point. I’m so excited about this little project. Let me leave my number and you can call me when you have something drawn up.”

He squiggles numbers onto a Post-it note and then holds out his hand, all of us shaking it before he turns and skips away.

We’re left staring after him, our lips unsure whether to smile or frown. Bane…well, he’s something else entirely.

“Right. Well, that was not how I was expecting to end my day,” Dean says after a moment of confused silence.

“I think he’s going to actually put dead bodies in the back of his murder vehicle,” Ben murmurs.

Dean and Ford exchange a look but don’t comment.

“We don’t ask questions here,” Ford replies before slapping Dean on the shoulder. “And anyway, it’s almost time to close up. And Dean, I’m coming over for a beer after work. Remember?”

“No, I don’t fucking remember those plans, but that works for me. Just let me finish what I was doing and then we can go,” Dean replies.

Ford nods, and I clear my throat. “Right. I’ll finish up with the billing until you tell me it’s time to leave.”

Ford eyes Ben, and with a subtle nod that Dean misses, he walks away.

Hm. Wonder what that was about?

Actually, I don’t want to wonder about it. I don’t want to fucking know.

“Want to go for a ride after I’m done with Ford?” Dean asks when he catches me in the kitchen doing the dishes. When we arrived home, I whipped up a quick dinner with the food he had in the fridge and we ate it outside around the fire. Ben joined us as well, he and Ford glancing at each other occasionally. But it was almost like they were trying not to look at one another.

Like I said, I don’t want to know what that’s about.

Not at all.

That’s a whole other can of worms.

“Done with Ford?” I ask, but Dean ignores my comment.

“Hey, leave those. I’ll do them when we get home,” Dean says, touching my arm gently.

“Nope. I’ve got it.”

“Avery.”

The way he says my name makes shivers explode down my spine. Detrimental, I tell you. Every word out of his mouth is a stroke against my cock.

And my heart.

And believe me, I caught him staring at me earlier. No clue what that was about, but I wanted it to be something.

God, let it be anything. Please.

“I’m doing the dishes, Dean. It’s the least I can do with you letting me stay here.”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “All right. But then I’m taking you on another ride once that fucker leaves.” I eye him, and Dean grins. “We’re best friends. It’s fine if I say that.”

“Whatever you say. But yes. I do love a ride.” He has no idea how much.

He may never know. My talent will be completely wasted.

“All right. Let me kick his ass to the curb. If I don’t, he’ll stay here for ages. Plus, I’d rather be on the road with you.”

I blush from head to toe, my entire body warm from that comment. He really should stop flirting with me. It’s getting to be a bit of a problem. Not that he knows he’s flirting, but my brain thinks he is. My brain thinks a lot of things.

Most of which I need to exorcise, to expel completely if I am going to make it as his platonic roommate.

Dean strolls back outside and chats with Ford for a while longer. Ben left a while ago, peering over his shoulder and meeting Ford’s eyes as he went.

As Ford and Dean talk about drills, I finish up the dishes, watching them through the window. I may eavesdrop. A little. I don’t mean to. But I do hear my name and my ears become like homing beacons.

Don’t know what they’re talking about, but they’re talking about me.

I really need to keep my expectations low, I remind myself as I peel myself away from the kitchen sink and throw on a sweater. It’s growing cold outside and a motorcycle ride will chill me to the bone. Although, I will be pressed up against Dean’s strong, warm back so there’s that.

“You ready?” Dean asks as he walks Ford to the front door.

I nod and peer over at Ford, who winks at me.

“Dean really wants to get on that bike with you. I see the braid. I know what that means…”

“Shut the fuck up,” Dean murmurs, shoving Ford out the front door.

Ford chuckles as he makes his way to his bike, sitting on the seat and messaging someone as I put the helmet on and throw my leg over the back of Dean’s motorcycle. My hands wrap around his waist, my cheek on his shoulder as he drives off the property with a small wave to Ford as we leave.

I don’t know where he’s going to take me, but I don’t care. I’m loving this.

Perhaps Nick punching me was the best thing to ever happen to me. I’ve never felt more content in my entire life. And yet, I know nothing will come from this. But still, I hold on tighter, letting him take the lead.

“I think my legs are asleep,” I say when we finally arrive back home two hours later. My heart is racing and my dick is mostly hard because I was pressed up against Dean, the vibration of the motorcycle engine doing things to my libido. I really need to find someone to fuck me before I do something I’ll regret .

Like ask Dean to just take one for the team and put me out of my misery.

I sag onto the couch, rubbing my legs. Dean lowers himself next to me and props his feet up onto the ottoman.

“Was it too long of a ride?”

“No. I loved it. Just need to get used to it.”

I put my feet on the couch, bending my knees, my toes curling into the cushion that he’s on. I run my hands under my thighs, massaging my sore muscles there.

“It’s kind of like riding a horse. Not that I’ve ever ridden a horse. I have ridden a man, though.”

Dean laughs. “I think neither of those is the same as riding a motorcycle.” He eyes me and then asks, “Can I?”

I don’t know what he’s asking permission for, but I’m all for it. I just nod and then those big hands wrap around my ankles and he tugs, pulling my legs right across his lap. He tugs a little more until my ass is right against his thigh.

“It’s always a little jarring after a long ride,” he murmurs as his big, thick paws land on my legs, moving from my knees up to my thighs. “I remember when I first learned to ride. It was a lot. And my first cross-state ride, I walked bowlegged for a week after that.”

“I too have walked bowlegged,” I admit with a small, nervous laugh. Good god. He’s touching me. “After a long fucking. That was a long time ago. Shit. I really need to get laid.”

Dean shakes his head, and I let out a small, deranged whimper as he starts kneading my sore, tense muscles. It’s over my pants, but still, my dick perks up with those fingers on me, my lips rolling between my teeth to keep myself from moaning.

All of this is a little too sensual, I admit, and yet, here I am. I’m not asking him to stop. I won’t. I may never get him to touch me again. This could be it. Forever and ever. Seems I may need to solidify this in my memory.

“Is this okay? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he says, pausing after a moment.

“You can touch my legs anytime,” I reply and then let out a mortified laugh when I realize how that sounded. “I mean, don’t worry about it.”

“Good to know. I’ll try to behave though.”

Please don’t behave.

Be the filthiest. Please.

“This is a thank you for dinner,” he adds. “It was delicious, by the way. Ford thinks I should marry you.”

Yes, please marry me.

“Yes. Dinner. Delicious. Marriage.” My words come out in a jumble. I’m making no sense. I’ve taken leave of my senses. “I think I’ll make you lunch too if this is the thanks I get.”

“You’ve already made my lunch.”

“I have. When I feel sorry for you.”

“I’m pathetic, hm?”

“The worst and most pathetic,” I lie.

I exhale and close my eyes, trying to will my dick to stay soft, but it’s a lost cause. My entire body is taut, like a tightly wound string. And the butterflies. They’re enormous and fluttering.

I shouldn’t let this go on, but I am. I’m so letting it go on. I’m loath to stop it.

“Oh god, Dean. This is…oh my,” I whisper as he continues to massage my thighs, the sore muscles loosening as he goes. “This feels so good. I haven’t had a massage in forever.”

He clears his throat, and my eyes pop open, meeting his stare. His cheeks are flushed and his pupils are blown out.

“Why not?”

“Well, like I said, I haven’t been with anyone in a while and massages are expensive. And like I said, I don’t get paid enough for them, Boss .”

He smirks at me, his hands still on my thighs.

“Well, I can talk to Ford and Cash about raises, but I can give you massages whenever you need them,” he says, and I bite my bottom lip. Hard.

“I may take you up on that. You have nice, strong hands.”

He glances down at them .

“You do too. Nice hands, I mean. They’re…pretty. I noticed you like to paint your nails.”

The observation has me stiffening. “I do.”

He meets my gaze once more. “You can paint mine, if you want.”

My eyes just blink wildly, those butterflies taking flight. “Oh. Yeah. I can do that.”

He nods and then continues to work some kind of magic until I’m a sloppy, loose mess. Then, and only then, do his hands slide away from my thighs.

“You seem relaxed now. How do you feel?”

I let out a shaky breath. My dick is hard, my heart thumping wildly in my chest. I feel like I’m this close to falling apart.

“I feel good, but honestly, you may need to carry me to bed. You’ve reduced me to overcooked spaghetti. I’m mush.”

“I can do that.”

“I’m just kidding?—”

But before I can protest, Dean reaches out and shifts me up onto his lap, pulling my legs on either side of his. And for a moment, just a split second, I envision myself naked, straddling his thighs, his cock stretching me open. The way that would feel, the pain mixed with pleasure…

But as soon as it appears, it dissipates until all I’m left with is the feel of him against me.

“Up we go,” he murmurs and then stands with a grunt.

I gasp as I hold on, my legs moving around his back, my lips inches from his. And my dick, of course, is pressed against his lower stomach. Not that either of us addresses that.

He can’t touch me like that and expect me not to get hard.

Has he looked at himself in the mirror lately?

“I didn’t think you’d actually do it,” I say as he walks me to my room.

His lips twitch. “Didn’t think I was strong enough?”

“Oh, you fishing for compliments, old man?” I ask as he enters my room.

He sets me down on the bed, my legs and arms unraveling from him .

“Seems I might be,” he replies, and I just blink up at him. I don’t even know what to say. I’d compliment him all damn day if he’d let me. But I have to remember he’s straight and I work for him.

There are some lines you just shouldn’t cross.

Not that we haven’t already crossed some. He touched my thighs. He’s most likely seen my hard dick straining out from the confines of my loose pants.

I don’t know whether the line exists anymore or if perhaps the line is just extremely bent.

“Thanks for coming on a ride with me,” he says softly.

“Thanks for the invite.”

We stare at each other, and he taps the doorjamb.

“Right. Night, Avery,” he says softly, and then before I can even squeak out a response, the door shuts, and I’m left alone.

I stare at that closed door and then shift my gaze to the closet. Inside are some of his clothes. I saw them when I was putting my stuff away when I moved in. I may have touched them a little too much and too often. But now I’m alone and horny.

I have nothing to lose.

I stand up and move toward the closet, pulling out a jersey. Peeking at the back, I see his last name across the shoulders.

Hayes.

I sure as fuck know this isn’t Ben’s jersey. Hell no. That guy doesn’t have an athletic bone in his body.

No, this is Dean’s. I put it up to my nose and inhale. Fuck yes.

Without another thought, I strip down and press the shirt against my face once more, my hand wrapping around my cock and stroking. I envision him standing there watching me, his tattoos peeking out from the bottom of his shirt, his own hand snaking down the front of his pants to touch himself.

In my mind, he wants me just as much as I want him.

Put on the jersey, Avery. I want to see you come with it on.

I pull it up, screwing my eyes shut, and come almost immediately. Damn it all to heaven. This is clearly becoming a habit—one that I don’t want to break.

One that I can’t break .

After cleaning myself up with a heaving chest and gasping for air, I pull the jersey on over my naked body and crawl into bed, loving how the fabric of it rubs against my bare skin.

Love how it reminds me of him.

Someone I can’t ever have.

I fall asleep horny as ever and pray that in my dreams, Dean makes an appearance.