Текст книги "Missing Dixie"

Автор книги: Caisey Quinn

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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 16 страниц)

It dawns on me that that night was the last time she played music live until now. And I ruined this show, too, by bailing on her when she needed me. She’s always been there for me and I’ve done nothing but cause her pain. I’ve used her like the other women in my life, just in a different way.

I drag her down.

I drag the band down.

The only two people in the entire world who try to pull me up, and all I do is yank them into the pathetic pit of Hell that is my world.

I saw the love shining in her eyes at the bar, the excitement glowing on her face, and the joy beaming out of her eyes. She loves to play music. She loves to perform.

Worst of all, she loves me.

She’s the only reason I even know what love is.

And I have to break her into a million pieces.

Sitting there at the dirty kitchen table, I know it as sure as I know my own name. It will be the only way to make her let me go. To make both of them finally let me go so I can slink back into the gutter, where I belong.

I’ll have to use her one last time.

13 | Dixie

“SO YOU THINK it was the blonde? The same one you saw him with a few months ago?” Robyn sits on my bed hugging a pillow to her chest and waiting for me to answer.

“That’s what the barback said. His boss said he left with a woman; the barback piped up and said a belligerent blonde he knew was making a scene and asking for him.”

“That’s fucked-up, Dix.”

I pick at the fringes on the edge of my favorite pillow. “I know.”

“Especially since he made such a scene right before with the kissing and all that. It’s like he wants to stake his claim on you for the world to see, keep every other guy away, but then he can’t deal with the rest of what comes with that.”

“I know.”

She tosses her hands up and the pillow tumbles down her lap. “I mean, seriously! What the fuck is his damn deal?”

“Your kid’s first word is going to be a swear word if you’re not careful.”

Robyn glares at me. “Do not change the subject, Dixie Leigh Lark.”

“Sorry.”

She rests her back against my wooden headboard and sighs. “I’m sorry, too. He just frustrates the hell out of me.”

“Ditto.”

“I mean, the way he was watching you like a hawk at the wedding and the reception, the way he has always watched you as if you are his and only his and he is protecting you from all the world’s evil—it’s beyond infatuation. It’s like, I don’t know . . . borderline obsession. Then he just straight-up bails without so much as a word—with another woman! That plus the not calling you when he was back in town, this pregnant lady’s patience is running slap out.”

I smile because Robyn is so . . . Robyn. If she’s your friend, she is one hundred percent committed. She is angry on my behalf and I don’t know if it’s the pregnancy hormones or what but I’m pretty sure she’s angrier than I am.

I don’t even know if I’m angry. I’m just sad. Hurt. Confused.

The show was beyond incredible. It was one of the best nights of my life and I felt so alive. All I wanted when it was over was to see him, to wrap my arms around him and celebrate my euphoria from performing. I wanted to tell him that I was ready for the band to get things going because I finally feel like me again.

But he was gone. Just . . . gone.

“This isn’t okay, Dixie,” she says, a warning edge to her tone as if she thinks I don’t realize this. “I see you over there working up a million excuses, but it’s time for him to grow up. He needs to understand that he can’t just pick you up and set you down whenever he feels like it.”

“I know,” I mumble, closing my eyes and burrowing back down in my covers.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

I’m expecting it to be something about Gavin so I’m confused when it’s not.

“Have you ever thought of moving into the master bedroom? I mean, all the upgrades to this house are beautiful and this room is nice and it’d make a great guest room. But it’s your childhood bedroom, love. You’re a big girl now and the big bedroom is just sitting empty.”

I glance around my room. Faded lavender walls sparsely adorned by white weathered wooden shelves my grandmother refurbished to match my headboard. Old desk my grandfather gave me to do my homework on.

“Huh. I guess I never really thought about it.”

“Can I tell you why I think that is?” Robyn looks nervous, like she’s worried her answer might hurt my feelings.

“Shoot.”

She takes a deep breath and I can see her mentally organizing her thoughts the way only she can. I suspect all information in her brain is color-coded and cross-referenced.

“Dix, please don’t take this the wrong way, but I think you’re kind of living in the past. Please know I say this with love, but honey, you’ve outgrown it and that’s okay. You need to move into the current century and I think the reason you haven’t done anything about that is because deep down, you know this is a temporary pit stop in your past. Eventually you are going to have to face the fact that you were born to perform. You need it. The world needs it. I know it’s hard to let the past go—hello, I married my high school sweetheart. But sometimes it’s necessary.” She sighs and pats my hand gently before continuing. “Dallas and I had to grow up, we grew apart, and then we grew together. We are still growing, in friendship and in love and as people. In my case, literally.” I smile when she pats her expanding belly. “I want that kind of love for everyone, especially for you. But I can’t stand to see you hurting like this, stuck like this, bogged down by the past. Your face last night . . . you were so excited when you came offstage and my heart broke for you when I watched you realize he wasn’t there. You just . . . you were crumbling. Piece by piece. I could see it. Dallas could see it. Everyone with eyes could see it. You kept the mask on for us, but I want you to know that you can break apart. You can fall down. We will be there to pick you back up. I promise.”

I don’t know what to say. Everything she’s said is true so I just keep quiet, swallowing the lump of emotion currently clogging my airway.

“Girl, you rocked it last night. Hard-core. We were all blown away and I’ll admit, I didn’t know you had that in you. I don’t know if you knew you had that in you.”

“I didn’t,” I interrupt, my voice hitching on the last word.

“Right. Well, now you do. You’re coming into your own now and everyone saw that. And now it’s time to do something about it. But first, something has to give with Gavin and I don’t know what it is, but he needs to either be there for you and make you a priority, or bow out gracefully. For your sake, for the band’s sake, and for his sake because I suspect if he hurts you like that, Dallas might murder him. I really don’t want the father of my child to spend his life in jail.”

“I think he just . . .” I search for the right words, but how do you explain what’s going on in your head when you can’t even understand it yourself?

“ . . . needs to make an actual choice. It’s time, Dix. For what it’s worth, I think he loves you as much as he is capable of loving another person, but he made his choice last night and for whatever reason, it wasn’t you.”

A thick knot of emotion keeps any more excuses from escaping.

“I’m sorry,” Robyn says while patting my hand. “I don’t mean to say that it will be easy, because I know it won’t. But it’s time to move forward. With or without him.”

I nod because she’s right. “I know.”

Robyn stands to leave but then she stops abruptly. I have a mini panic attack that she’s going into preterm labor or something but she gives me a sad smile.

“Remember Billy Gleason? From middle school?”

I nod. “Yeah, the freckle-faced asshole who heard the boys shortening my name and started calling me ‘Dicks’ and drawing penises all over my stuff.”

Robyn laughs softly. “Yeah, him.”

“Dallas heard him teasing me and beat the crap out of him. He was suspended for three days and Papa was superharsh on him those days, making him do slave labor at home from dawn till dark.”

Robyn nods. “Yeah, about that. It wasn’t Dallas who beat him up. Billy, I mean.”

I feel my forehead wrinkle in confusion. “Yes, it was. Busted him up pretty bad, actually. He had to get stiches in his cheek and lip and eyebrow, if I remember correctly. Billy carried my books and my lunch every day for weeks and pretty much spent the remainder of sixth grade apologizing to me.”

Robyn looks at me like I am clueless. “I know. I remember. But it wasn’t Dallas that made that happen.” She tilts her head to the side as if contemplating not telling me the rest. But then she finishes. “It was Gavin. Dallas took the fall because Gavin had already been in trouble one too many times that year.”

I feel as if my entire life has been a lie.

“Seriously?”

She nods. “Seriously. And there have been . . . other things, other times when Dallas took the fall for him because he thought he was doing the right thing. But you and I both know that won’t be possible forever.”

“What are you say, exactly?”

“I’m saying that there is a darkness in Gavin, a side of him that is dangerous to people who care about him. To Dallas and to you. He hurt that kid, badly. For teasing you. And he let Dallas take the blame and deal with the consequences.” Robyn continues before I can argue. “Gavin’s always had it rougher than any of us, but you need to know, Dixie, that his salvation is not on your shoulders. The battle he’s fighting this time is his and his alone—and hopefully he’ll conquer his demons, but if he doesn’t . . . you will be okay and we will be here for you. And him.”

I glare at her steadily until she finishes her statement.

“Sometimes even things done with the best of intentions can wound and destroy. Sometimes the darkness wins. That’s all I’m saying. I just worry is all.” She shrugs almost imperceptibly and then adds, “We’ll leave you be, but call us if you need us, okay?”

I nod and with that she leaves my room and closes the door behind her.

Now I’m the one left in darkness.

I wake to loud knocking on my front door. Sitting up in my bed, I glance over at my phone and see that it’s after two in the morning.

Something’s wrong.

I don’t know how I know, but I know it even before I’m fully conscious. Stumbling to the door, I mutter inaudibly to my late-night visitor to hold the hell on. I’ve barely registered the figure standing in the door way before I open it.

His scorching hot mouth fastens to mine. It’s a kiss and then a lick and then a hard pull of my flesh into his mouth. It’s a familiar mouth, one that affects even more parts of my body than he’s actually touching.

Before I can say a word or mutter in either protest or approval, his hands grip my ass and I am lifted onto him. My legs instinctually wrap his waist and the burning kiss continues as he carries me to my bedroom. It’s dark in the house so he’s making his way through by memory.

Heat sears my back—hot enough that I’m slightly concerned my mattress is on fire when he lowers me roughly onto it.

Is this a dream? Am I awake?

Using both hands, I reach for his face and drag his mouth to mine. Immediately I know that I am not dreaming. The Gavin in my dreams tastes only like Gavin, like mint and sometimes a faint hint of tobacco even though he quit smoking. This Gavin tastes different.

The liquor on his breath is so strong I’m instantly drunk at the first touch of our tongues.

It’s an addicting flavor, Gavin and stout whiskey.

He tears his shirt off over his head and my brain tries to warn me, to remind me about something. I’m mad at him. Or I’m supposed to be mad. Or . . . something. But there is only heat and need and skin.

So much skin.

I fell asleep in my threadbare Civil Wars T-shirt and he’s wearing only jeans that scrape roughly against my exposed skin.

His strong hand assaults my bare breasts. One, then the other. Rubbing hard then tugging gently on each nipple until the ache in them rivals the one between my legs.

I want him to keep touching me, to taste me, to be as consumed with his need for me as I am by mine for him.

He growls low in my ear. “I need you so fucking bad. I shouldn’t have you. I don’t deserve you, but I need you. Can I have you?”

“Yes, Gavin. God, yes. You have me. I need you too. I—”

He cuts me off with a kiss that plunges into the depths of my mouth, leaving no inch unexplored. I moan loudly, thankful for once that the house is empty.

I feel his hard denim-covered length press between my legs and writhe beneath him.

“Gav. I need. I need . . .” I can’t breathe. All I am is need.

“I know what you need, sweetness. I have every intention of giving it to you.”

“Yes, please,” I plead shamelessly.

Liquid heat pools where I need him most and I thrust myself harder against his jeans.

“Not yet, my impatient girl. I’m going to take my time with you.” Without waiting for permission or a response, he moves swiftly down my body and delves his thick, wet tongue between my already slick folds. My body bows up off the bed and I cry out as pleasure tears through my body.

My legs spread farther apart, granting him access to every inch of me. His tongue wrecks me, circling slow then fast, then plunging inside. I’m begging for mercy, for release, for something. I can hear myself but I can’t control anything coming out of my mouth.

“Fuck me, Gav,” I beg. “Please. Pretty please.”

“So fucking sweet. You’re so fucking sweet, baby. You shouldn’t be allowed to taste so sweet. I have issues with addiction, you know, and I. Am. Fucking. Addicted.”

“Please,” I cry out when I feel myself ascending to that place, to that pleasure-to-the-point-of-pain peak where only he can take me. “Now, please. Please.”

“You know me, sweetness. I’m going to fuck you all night. I’m going to take you there as many times as you want to go. I want you to come on my tongue, on my cock, and everywhere in between. Ready?”

I want his tongue back inside me. Or his dick inside me. Both. All at once. I want him to keep his mouth there until his dick can immediately replace it. I need the contact. I need it to never stop.

Tension strings me tight and I’m throbbing so hard I assume he can feel it.

Something unintelligible slips out of my mouth, a plea and a whimpered moan combined.

Gavin sucks my clit into his mouth at the exact instant that two of his thick fingers fill me completely.

“Oh my God.” It’s a good feeling but a full, stretched to maximum capacity feeling. I haven’t had sex since . . . since after my grandpa died.

The last time I did was here. In this bed with Gavin.

Maybe that’s the real reason I can’t leave this room, this bed.

He alternates gentle thrusts with hard sucks and vice versa and I am coming.

And coming, and coming.

His name slips past my lips with a slew of other words of adulation.

He licks me down from my orgasm, easing his fingers out of me in a torturously slow motion.

“See how good you taste, baby? He runs his wet fingers across my lips, then kisses me hard. “I could live on this. On you and only you.”

For all the havoc he’s wreaked on my body, my heart pounds at his words, at the taste of myself on his mouth, and I feel my insides begin to clench rhythmically once again.

I didn’t know pleasure like this even existed. He didn’t fuck me like this in Austin or here. Austin was slow and we took our time. Last time we were here it was about comfort.

This is about primal need and hedonistic desire. It’s all-consuming and mind-shattering.

“More, Gavin. Please. I need more.”

“Your wish is my command, Blu—babe.”

The fuck?

“Why didn’t you call—”

His mouth covers mine aggressively while he yanks his jeans and underwear off. I hear them hit the floor and my hands reach down instinctively to stroke his length.

He’s smooth and hard and perfect.

“Inside. I need you inside,” I mumble against his mouth. His kiss has turned punishing and it’s confusing but I’m tough. I can deal. I give as good as I get until teeth gnash together and I’m sure both of our mouths will be sore and bruised in the morning.

“It’s not going to be sweet. Or soft or slow. I am going to fuck you. I need to fuck you. Hard. Can you handle that?”

“Yes, Gavin. I can handle it. I want it.” I spread my legs as far as they will go and grip his bare ass with both hands.

“Fuck.” He tries to rear back but I need him now.

“Condom?”

“I don’t have one. I haven’t been having sex. With anyone since . . .”

“Since?”

“Since you. Since last time I was with you.”

I can’t help but doubt him. We’ve spent a lot of time apart and I’ve never known him to deny himself.

“Swear?”

“I swear. On anything you want.”

“Swear on me. Cross my heart.”

He leans down and places warm, wet kisses across my chest in the shape of a cross, stopping centimeters shy of my nipples. I reach for them to ease the ache but he grips my wrists and pins my hands above me.

“We don’t have to fuck. I can just get you off all night. I’m good with that.” His head dips again and his tongue runs languid circles around my areola until I cry out and he sucks my nipples hard enough to hurt. It’s a good pain, though; he walks that line between pleasure and pain perfectly.

“Come inside me, Gavin. I want you inside of me.”

He groans as if I’ve stabbed him.

“Please. I want to feel you. Just you. Only you. I take my birth control regularly. Never miss a dose. Robyn texts me every day to remind me.”

Any other argument I was going to make or any defense he planned to counter with is null and void the second the head of him breaches my folds. I’m so wet from his mouth that he slides in easily, like a hot knife into butter.

The moment he is fully inside, I lose myself. My body begins to buck against his but I can’t get far because he’s still holding my wrists.

Once again I hear myself begging him for more as our bodies create the delicious sweaty friction I crave. He gives it, thrusting everything he has into me again and again.

“Come. Fucking come, babe. I need it. Now.”

His plea is so desperate, I clench around him until my body complies with his request.

“Fuck,” Gavin bites out when he slams into me and comes explosively inside. “Fucking fuck.”

He releases my wrists and collapses on me and all we do is breathe.

Just breath and sweat and remnants of pleasure between us.

Just when I think he’s dozed off, he jerks up quickly and grabs the tops of my legs.

“Turn over.”

“What? You’re not serious.” I can barely move, much less turn over.

“Turn,” he says slowly, like I’m mentally impaired. “The fuck,” he punctuates by yanking me roughly toward him. “Over.”

“Gavin.” I don’t know this version of him. “Look at me, please.” I’m not prepared for it. I thought it was lie-around-in-post-orgasmic-bliss time.

He looks but his eyes are flat black in the darkness, as if he’s figured out how to look without seeing. “Each second you make me wait, I will spank you. Hard. Do you want that, baby? My handprint branded on that sweet, perfect ass of yours?”

Um . . . maybe?

My vagina is on board even if I’m still swimming in confusion.

“Do you want to spank me, Gavin?”

“Fuck, yes, I do. I want to spank that tight little ass, to bite it and mark it, and when you let me fuck it, I plan to sign my name on it.”

And just like that, I’m on board.

“Okay. Let’s do this. Fucking spank me then. Show me how you like it.” I turn over abruptly and try not to be self-conscious about presenting him with this view of my backside. Seems silly to be embarrassed now.

“Ready, baby? You get two for making me ask you twice to turn over.”

“Do your worst, drummer boy.” It hits me a second too late that Gavin is, in fact, a very strong, very powerful drummer.

I flinch involuntarily when his hand makes the first crack of contact.

“Oh. Okay. Ouch. That fucking hurt.”

He rubs me gently until the stinging subsides. Then he trails his fingers down the middle of me and dips it briefly into my opening. I am amazingly still extremely wet. And turned the hell on.

“One more, sweetness. Can you take one more?”

“Um, yeah. Just maybe not as—”

His open palm makes contact again and it’s just low enough to send a shock wave through to my clit.

I cry out and Gavin begins whispering soothing things as he moves. I start to ask where he’s going but before I do I have my answer.

His mouth launches a thorough assault on the parts of me that are exposed to him in this position. All of the parts. Even the ones I didn’t expect would feel good.

Soon I am adrift in the overwhelming sensations and I’m not even sure which are fingers and which is tongue until I’m coming again and mid-orgasm his cock slams inside to the hilt. And I am coming again. Or maybe it’s more of the first one continued, stretching out long and thick like never-ending taffy. All I know is I can’t stop it—this, whatever this is.

He wraps my hair around his hand and jerks hard enough to hurt but I’m coming so hard I can’t bring myself to care.

“Gav. Gavin. Fuuuck.”

He’s pounding me now, a steady slamming of his cock into my body until my bones are rattling.

“Where do you want my come, sweetness? Three choices,” he grounds out through gritted teeth. “Pussy, throat, or inside that tight little ass of yours?”

I don’t know. I can’t think. I’m growing numb and disoriented from the brutality of how hard he’s still fucking me.

“W-where do you want to come?” Even my teeth are rattling. He is literally fucking every part of me.

“Everywhere. Your mouth, down your throat, all over your sweet little clit, across those perfect fucking tits. I dream about fucking your ass, about making it impossible for you to sit down for a week.”

I am speechless.

“Do you get it, now, baby?” He jerks my head backward by my hair until I’m upright and surprisingly his dick is still buried safely inside of me. “This is how I am. Fucked-up. Rough. Dangerous. This is how I fuck. That shit in Austin, and the pity fuck here a few months ago, that wasn’t me. This is me.”

Nothing hits me quite as hard as those two words.

Pity. Fuck.

I cannot have heard that right.

But I can smell his breath again from here and I know he’s drunk. Actually, I’m pretty sure he’s shitfaced because the Gavin I know would never handle me this way or speak to me like this. I’m not complaining, it’s kind of hot. But not if he’s angry and not if he’s too drunk to use sense.

“Fucking come, Gavin. Get it over with and get the hell away from me before you say something else you’re going to regret.”

A strange manic sound escapes him. He thrusts in hard and deep and holds me there, tethered by my hair, impaled by his cock. “That’s the worst part. I have no remorse, baby. Ever.”

“Fuck you,” I hiss out because I don’t like this anymore. It’s not fun and it feels malicious and hateful. And wrong. “Actually, I’m done fucking you right now. Thank you.”

I slam my elbow backward, catching him in the rib cage and startling him enough that he lets go of me.

As soon as I’m free I run into the bathroom and shut the door hard behind me before sinking onto the cold, tile floor with my sore, bare ass. It actually helps a little.

I don’t know what just happened, or why he behaved that way, but I know now that Robyn is right.

Gavin is fighting his own battle. He has darkness inside him and it is capable of destroying me.

It just did.