Page 32 of Dean

“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 mortifiedlaugh when I realize how that sounded. “I mean, don’t worry about it.”

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

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