Chapter 38 Regan
THIRTY-EIGHT
REGAN
Even with the longer break between races, I’ve been in the shop almost constantly. More so than usual. The pressure is really on with Ian catching up in the points standings, and everyone is giving their all to stay ahead of both of them.
Cindy wanted to go out, but a night in sounds better.
I draw a hot bath with a lavender bath bomb, pick a dirty romance book, and crack a beer.
I sink into the bath, disappearing below the purple tinted water of the bath, letting the scent and hot water relax my muscles.
I sip on my beer and crack open my book, and this is it—perfection.
I needed this, keeping myself as busy as possible with as many distractions as possible to keep Dean out of my head.
He reached out a few times to hang out, but I gave him excuses as to why we couldn’t meet up.
I want to see him, and I want to fuck him.
I want him to not win the championship, too.
There are so many things happening that a night to fully relax is what I need to get a bit of clarity.
I’m engrossed in my book. The main characters are finally starting to realize their feelings for each other when my phone buzzes on the ledge of the bathtub.
Dean
Hey, what you up to tonight?
I’m surprised he’s still reaching out after I’ve blown him off so many times.
Maybe tonight can be the night I cash in on some of the benefits of our arrangement.
Now that we are exclusive, knowing that he’s not seeing anyone else is a relief.
That image that Ian showed me at the gala of Dean’s arm snaked around some other girl's waist still makes my stomach churn.
Me
Not much. Reading in the tub. Wbu?
The text bubbles start and stop as Dean types. Did I make it weird by telling him I was in the tub?
Dean
Already naked then? Wish I could be in that tub with you
Playing some video games if you want to come over and hang
Me
So is this your version of a booty call Dixon?
Dean
Could be. Depends if you can beat me at Mario Kart or not
Damn him. Of course I can kick his ass at Mario Kart. The competitive part of me takes over, and I’m climbing out of the tub and wrapping myself in a towel before answering.
Me
Be there in 30. Prepare to lose
I finish drying off and pull on some leggings and a baggy shirt out of my dresser to wear. If this is only a booty call, then I don’t need to dress to impress, just dress to be easily undressed.
When I arrive at Dean’s apartment, nerves start to course through me.
I look down at my outfit, and now I’m thinking I should have worn something a bit sexier.
I walk up the stairs and I’m about to knock on his door when he opens it, my fist raised.
He’s wearing grey sweats and a tight black t-shirt.
Damn, why does he have to look so…hot? I take him in, appreciating how good he looks, especially in those sweats.
Why are grey sweatpants so hot on any guy? It’s like girl kryptonite.
I cross the threshold, and the sound of the door closing makes me jump a little bit. I need to calm down. It’s not like we haven’t hooked up before. Something feels like it’s shifted since the gala. Shifted in what way is yet to be seen.
Dean crosses the room, his confidence oozing from him. He knows I checked him out at the door when he opened it, and likes that I did. It’s his turn to do the same to me, his eyes raking over my body, his tongue darting across his bottom lip. Okay, maybe this was the right outfit to wear.
Taking my hand, he leads me to his bed in the small space.
My memory flashes back to when Dean brought me up here for the first time—when he tended to my injured hand when we worked on his truck together.
It was the first time I saw how caring and tender he could be.
Something I don’t ever see while we are at the track.
I rub my thumb over the small scar that sits across my knuckles.
I’m so in my thoughts that I don’t notice Dean has stopped walking short of the bed, and I almost run straight into his chest. I blink up at him. He pushes a strand of hair that has fallen out of my loose braid.
“What’s going on in that gorgeous head of yours? You seem like you’re somewhere else.”
I try to smile, I’m just so nervous that it comes off as strained, and Dean can tell. “Nothing. I’m fine.”
He sits on the bed and pats the spot next to him, and I sit. “Talk to me,” he says, his voice gentle, head ducking to meet my eyes.
I sigh and relax a little. “I was just remembering the day I cut my hand and you took care of me after.” I do my best to be nonchalant about it. But that really meant something. It meant that even before anything physical happened between us, he cared.
“I think about that day, too,” he admits.
My head whips up to meet his gaze, surprised by his admission. “You do?”
“Mmhmm.” The sound reverberates off the walls of the small room. “I was so scared that you really hurt yourself and I wouldn’t be able to help.” It’s his turn to look away, sadness filling his features, like he failed me somehow, when he did the complete opposite that day.
“But you did help. You were so calm and knew exactly what to do.”
He lets out a small chuckle. “Yeah, I’m good at masking all that when I need to. And I needed to. You were hurt.”
I take a moment before I say, “I wasn’t expecting that.”
“Most people aren’t,” he says with a shrug like it means nothing. He’s wrong, it means everything. “Did you still want to do this? We don’t have to. I’ll kick your ass all night in Mario Kart.”
I lean in and kiss him gently on the lips. The lips that have been in all of my fantasies since the first time I kissed them all those months ago. That’s all the answer he needs before Dean takes over the kiss, getting needier and more frantic.
Dean slides off the bed and onto his knees. Fuck, what a sight that is. He removes my sneakers so painfully slowly, and massages my feet and legs as his hands creep up toward my center.
I squirm as the slick heat of my arousal grows between my thighs. I continue to rock side to side to get just a little bit of friction, to get any kind of relief. Dean grins up at me from his knees, knowing that he’s torturing me from his touch alone.
“Are you going to keep teasing me or are you going to fuck me, Dixon?” I smirk, knowing that I’m getting him riled up, just like I wanted. Before I can blink, he’s standing over me, hand on the nape of my neck in a tight grip that’s close to being painful, lifting my eyes up to his.
“Are you going to be a brat tonight, kitten? Is that how you’re going to play?”
My nipples stiffen at his words. I never pictured Dean wanting to be rough in the bedroom.
I’ve never done anything like that before.
I’ve never really thought about trying anything rough, but the thought of Dean tossing me around, completely under his control, turns me on even more. That’s unexpected.
Last time, Dean was so caring and gentle. This isn’t what I was expecting coming here tonight. Need burns in his eyes as he’s waiting for my answer. I think I want to explore this side of Dean—and me.
“What are you going to do about it if I am?” I taunt, giving him a wicked grin.
The way his eyes darken in answer, knowing that I want to play this game, ensures me that I’ve made the correct choice.
He leans down and gives me a hard kiss, one that’s needy, hungry, and dominant.
He pulls away, standing now to his full height, and I stare up at him.
My panties are soaked at this sight, and he turns to his dresser and returns with a black belt in his hands.
Fuck, I’m done for.
“If you want to stop at any time, kitten, you tell me to stop. If anything is too much, you tell me. Do you understand?”
I’m too stunned to speak. But I’m excited to see what he may have in store for me, and I shift on the bed again, looking down at my feet. Dean lifts my chin with his finger so I’m forced to look at him again.
“Do you understand me?” he asks again. A spark flickers behind his green eyes that makes my stomach flip flop, and I know I have to give him an answer.
“Yes…I understand.”
“Good girl,” he purrs. He drops his hand from my chin to my throat. I stifle my gasp. He squeezes the sides, not cutting off my airway, just enough pressure to really ensure I know who’s in control. This is something more thrilling about that than I ever expected.
He leans in to kiss me again, hand still on my throat, as he pushes me fully up the mattress. He lets go and I remember the belt that’s still in his hands. Making two loops, he turns the belt into what looks like handcuffs.
“Give me your hands, kitten,” he demands.
I follow his command, and he tightens the belt around my wrists. Not too tight, but tight enough that I can’t slip out of them. He tugs his shirt over his head and I’m gawking at his toned and lean frame. I reach out to touch with my bound hands, but he pins them over my head with one large hand.
“You’re not allowed to touch until I make you come with my mouth. Do you understand, kitten?”
I can only manage a nod. He lets go of my hands to grip my face instead, squeezing my cheeks. It’s a bit harder than I expected, though I don’t mind the bite of pain. “Use your words, kitten.”
“Yes. I understand,” I breathe.
Letting go of my face, he pulls at the waistband of my leggings, yanking them down and off my body before tossing them to the floor, leaving me in my panties and shirt. Reaching down, he grabs my pussy in his hand where I know he can feel how wet I am through the thin fabric.
“So wet for me already, kitten,” he groans.
Pushing my panties to the side, he rubs his fingers through my wet folds, teasing my sensitive clit.
“Oh my god, Dean,” I moan, my hands reaching for him instinctively.
“Remember, if you touch, I stop,” he warns.