Page 39 of Fiona and the Fixer

I’d seen her wind down. A little finger bang and her mind went completely blank. And when she was riding my dick? Fucking perfect.

I wanted that version of Fiona again and I had a feeling I might be the only one to get her that way. And probably the only person she allowed to do so.

She didn’t seem to bend for anyone. Or anything. Even a fucking tumor.

Except me.

We had a stare off. I’d wait her out. This wasn’t a love match. Hell, no. But it was something and it was explosive. Intense.

Standing right before me, our eyes held. Then, holy shit, she lowered herself right down to her fucking knees. It was possible I was going to nut right there in my jeans at the sight of her. It was also possible that she might bite my dick off.

It was a risk I was willing to take.

“That’s my good fucking girl,” I said, stroking her hair.

20

FIONA

I snuckout of my own place. Why? Because I’d let a magical dick make me lose my mind. Six, no seven times. I should have thrown Dax out when he told Dottie he was my boyfriend. No, I should have thrown him out when he started to eat my cheesy rice as if it was a right, not a privilege. But no. No. I’d lost my mind when he’d slipped his hand into his jeans and started to stroke himself.

Men didn’t do that. At least weak ones with untalented dicks who fucked without foreplay didn’t.

Dax was different. Cocky as hell. Heknewwhat to do with his dick. He knew I liked it. He didn’t come across as a pervert stroking himself in my kitchen. Why?

Because his dick was magical!

I should have been turned off. Kicked him in the nuts. Ishould have told him it was a health code violation. Something.

Instead, I’d dropped to my knees like thefucking good girlI was.

“Ugh,” I groaned, starting to run down the sidewalk.

The sun was just starting to pinken the sky. All was quiet.

Dax was in my bed. IN MY BED. Naked. And he was a spooner, his front pressed to my back, his arm flung over my waist.

After a little dick licking in the kitchen, he’d tossed me over his shoulder–you read that right–and carried me into the bedroom. We didn’t come up for air to eat Dottie’s burritos until after ten.

No, Dax had gotten his fill from eating something else.

Yeah, my pussy, and boy had he been hungry.

I groaned again.

What waswrongwith me? It was reasonable to ask because I’d had a fucking brain tumor. But this wasn’t because of that. This was because I was a slut for Dax’s dick. It made me lose my mind.

Why him? Why a guy who was all the things I hated?

Yet, against any and all reasonable judgment, I somehow wanted to be his good girl. What was that all about? Since when did I care what people thought? Since when did I do what people said?

I’d blackmailed my boss into framing my partner. I put my father in prison for life.

Why was I letting Dax get away with being my supposed boyfriend, especially when he told Dottie—Grand Central Station of gossip in Coal Springs. I rarely dated. Besides the dating pool being slim and very shady, men were risky. I didn’t trust any of them because of growing up with a cruel father. By working with a slacker and asshole partner like Neidermeyer. By having a boss who would rather see me framed and fired.

Why did they all have to bend the rules, break the flipping law without remorse? Why did they have to hurt me, whether it be physically, emotionally, professionally, or any other -ally there was? It only made my need for control and boundaries even greater. To rely only on myself because I couldn’t trust anyone else.

Even Dax. We had a good sex thing going. Really good. Amazing.

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