Never been nerdy, p.23
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       Never Been Nerdy, p.23

           C.M. Kars
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  Nope, I’m going to judge. Maybe later, when Dean isn’t feeling so low.

  “I’m Katie,” I say to both of them, and make my eyes skitter over to the tombstone. Ah, shit. We’re at their dad’s grave. Never in a million years would I think Dean would want me here with him.

  “C’mon, baby,” Max says to Anna. “Let’s give them a minute.” Max nods my way, and Dean and I are left alone before the white stone, an inanimate object that’s the only thing you have as a physical reminder of the person you lost.

  Seems like a shitty way to remember someone to me.

  “Hey, Dad,” Dean says, and I feel the tips of my ears go red. Yeah, I really shouldn’t be here. I should be on the sidewalk, next to my car.

  This is too close, this is too intimate, and he’s making me feel like I’m important enough to be standing next to him while he deals with his grief.

  “This is Katarina,” he says, voice still lifeless. I sniff in the cold air, watch my breath puff out in perfect clouds. We should both be somewhere warm, drinking hot chocolate. Dean should be laughing, or reading, or cooking, anything to get his mind off of this.

  “I used to go to high school with her,” he continues, and I really hope he isn’t going to say what I think he is. “She’s the one that pulled that prank on me ten years ago, now. She’s the one I was in love with.”

  “Dean,” I whisper, tugging on his hand now. He refuses to let me go and keeps me close to him. “I shouldn’t be here. You need to be alone.”

  “She’s the one that broke my heart,” he keeps going, speaking to the stone. “I was thinking about you a lot, Pop, especially this past year. Did you know Mom started dating again?” His words come out quicker now, faster.

  Dean nods, like he’s hearing a voice coming from the stone. “Yeah, it’s still weird though, watching her get all dressed up, then look down at her ring and try to pull it off. I bought her a chain so she could wear it all the time, but she’s stubborn and won’t listen to me.”

  I stare at the letters carved into the tombstone, marvelling at how absolutely useless they are.

  Beloved husband and father, never forgotten. What kind of consolation is that?

  “I miss you a lot,” he says, voice cracking. He’s pulverizing my hand in his grip, and I struggle not to make a sound.

  I’m here, Dean. I’m right here. I won’t let you go.

  “I wish I could talk to you about this girl I’m having problems with. She’s driving me crazy, Dad. She’s the one that hurt me, and ever since then, I can’t get her out of my head. She doesn’t believe in love, Dad. How whacked is that? She never got to see you and Mom looking at each other the way you used to.” Dean nods again, like he’s hearing wise words. “I know, it’s my job to make that happen. I’ll… I’ll come see you soon, I promise.”

  Dean stares miserably at the white stone, still holding my hand in that bruising grip.

  What’s a little physical pain in the light of a soul-destroying one?

  “Are you cold?” Dean asks, turning his head to look at me, really looking at me for the first time tonight.

  I shake my head. Even I know the right answer to this question. I give him a tiny smile, trying to lighten the mood. His eyes zero-in on my mouth.

  “I would like to kiss you, if that’s okay” he says, still staring at my lips. I don’t know what he thinks he’s going to get out of one kiss, but I’m game.

  I nod, and feel his one warm hand and one cool one both softly land on either of my cheeks.

  He tips my head back while staring into my eyes, as he slowly, so slowly comes to rest his lips against mine. He takes his time on my mouth, just a brushing of flesh on flesh about to drive me crazy and making me want to do unholy things on top of graves.

  His tongue slowly sweeps in and I open for him, tasting him again. It’s like he’s got a switch that’s been thrown and I lose his hands on my face and feel his hands fisting my coat at my lower back, now lifting me so we’re closer than before.

  Pretty sure I’m going to go to hell for making out on a grave. That’s got to be a sin.

  Dean pulls back, breathing hard, eyes dazed. “You drive me crazy, kitten. Absolutely fucking crazy.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say, and this time I mean it.

  “You’re place or mine?” he growls, setting me down. My inner thighs start to quiver, and heat pulses through me at the thought of him in my bed.

  “You sure about this?” I ask, because it’s the right thing to do. Also, I might just be taking advantage of him. I’d hate it if we have sex and tomorrow morning Dean’s out of my life forever. I’ve come to enjoy our Thursday nights together.

  You just love his cooking.

  That’s not true… much.

  “I need you,” he says, voice cracking in the middle and it sucks that I’m so horny that I can’t adequately comfort him right now. But I will!

  I nod. “Alright, say bye to your brother and we’ll get going.”

  We walk back towards my car, hand-in-hand again, Dean being considerate of my smaller frame and even at one point holding me in front of him while my feet dangle a foot above the ground so I don’t ruin my heels any more than I have to.

  It sure as fuck doesn’t help that I’m plastered to his front, and his dick gets cradled by my ass. Dean growls in my ear at the contact and I’m going to need new underwear stat.

  Dean says goodbye to his brother and the kid’s girlfriend, waving, and telling him he’ll call sometime tomorrow. Guess Dean’s place is younger brother free.

  When he looks to me as he takes a seat in my car, his eyes are bright and his lips look to be a bit swollen from me. He’s never looked sexier, more beautiful to me. I’m going to take care of him tonight.

  I’m not going to take, and it’s not going to be all about me.

  I’m going to give him the ride of his life, and he’ll be so addicted to me he’ll never think I’m not worth it.

  But first, I need to go about this carefully. I’m finally getting what I want, and I need to make sure Dean does, too.

  It takes two to play ball, and whatever hurt he’s feeling right now, it’s my responsibility to take it away, at least for tonight.

  Tomorrow? That’s a different ballgame. Might as well say forever, since I don’t know anything about the future.

  If there even is a future.

  Chapter 25

  I let us into my apartment with Dean’s giant hand at the small of my back.

  Oh, possessive. I like it.

  “Take a seat, I’ll make us some supper,” I tell him, taking off my coat, and hanging it up in the closet. I keep my heels on, loving the extra height and the way they make my legs look. I’m more than sure Dean appreciates the view, too.

  I open the fridge and lean in, checking out whatever perishables I got in there. Eggs, some Singles cheese, a bunch of veggies that would make a killer omelette. I got some sriracha in there, too, to top it all off. Gathering all the ingredients, I plop them on the counter, then move about to my piano cupboards, stooping low to get the frying pan.

  Placing it on the element, the cool hand at my back seeps in through my blouse and spreads along my skin. I shiver, and grin.

  “Don’t you want to eat something first?” I ask, whirling around, and placing both hands on his chest. His heart’s even and steady, but his eyes are stark in his face, the green practically glowing. I’m going to love it trying to get his eyes to have that hazy look after I’m done with him.

  He smirks, and I laugh at myself. His hands go to my ass, palming a cheek in each one and giving me a squeeze.

  Well, hello, Dean Carter. I don’t think I’ve met this side of you before.

  “I need you now,” he says, his voice nothing more than a low rumble. My nipples pebble hard in my bra, and he takes one of my hands and places it on his scruffy jaw, only to kiss me in the center of it.

  Damn. That beard is going to leave marks on my thighs. Better for remembering later.<
br />
  “Please,” he begs, and starts removing my blouse from underneath my skirt, looking about ready to rip it off my body. He could be the dying man looking for one last chance at revenge, the way he’s so desperate to get me naked.

  But then, he’s too concentrated on my rockin’ body, on exposing my tits, ass, and pussy instead of realizing that this face comes with that package. Maybe he’s even thinking of somebody else, instead of realizing it’s me.

  “Kitten, please. I need this,” he says, but his hands have stopped moving on my skirt, about ready to bring the zipper down. I haven’t told him no, and I’m not resisting his advances. Hell, it’s taken awhile for us to get here, and now that we are… it just doesn’t feel right.

  “Say my name.”

  Dean’s eyes widen, his mouth pops open, and his tongue makes an appearance to lick them.

  He has no idea how that’s affecting me. He has no freaking clue.

  “Katarina DiNovro. I’m not drunk. I know who I’m with.”

  The knots in my chest unwind themselves and I take a deep breath.

  “Good. That’s good. There’s no need to rush, okay? We’ve got lots of time.”

  He nods, swallowing hard, setting me away from him. “You’ve got anything to drink?” he asks, and I move to my wine cabinet, showing off a 2009 Liano that I think he’ll enjoy. “Don’t be stingy on the pouring, either.”

  I fill a hefty glass, but watch him take his time in drinking it.

  “I’m sorry about being so abrupt. I shouldn’t’ve done that.”

  “Did I tell you no?” I ask, closing my blouse.

  Dean shrugs, takes another swallow of wine. He isn’t savouring it but instead looks like he’s forcing himself to keep it together and drink like a normal human being. He shakes his head.

  “But you weren’t ripping my clothes off, either. So you weren’t into it.”

  “Come sit down on the couch. There’s a game on. Just decompress a little. I’ll make us a frittata.”

  “You’re being sweet to me and now I feel like an asshole. I want you, kitten, but not like this. Not when I’m torn up inside, and I can’t pay attention to you.”

  Well, doesn’t that just light my fire.

  “You’ve got nothing to worry about.” I move to the kitchen and start my business. I get the veggies cooking first, and the smell of frying them in butter consumes my apartment. Dean gives me a thumbs up from the couch.

  My body’s on autopilot, because I’m pretty sure my brain has been switched off and my vagina is now running the show. My skin feels too tight, and I’m so wound up, breathing’s getting harder and my panties are too abrasive and not enough stimulation all at once.

  Dean gets under my skin. Is that a good thing or a bad thing?

  “Here we go,” I say, bringing two plates over with cutlery wrapped in napkins under my arm. I settle beside him on the couch, wishing I could go change. Dean grabs his plate without any further prodding, and downs it like a starving man eating his last meal.

  “Good?” I ask, eating my portion more slowly. “There’s more on the stove, if you want.”

  Dean shakes his head after carefully wiping his mouth. He gulps down more wine, tossing his head back to finish the rest of it off. I’m about to ask him for a refill when he settles himself more deeply into the couch, and stares at the TV, watching the Habs losing.

  “That was delicious,” he tells me, still looking at the screen. I nod my thanks, but I’m pretty sure it’s lost on him, though. I’m finding it hard to eat, and it’s never hard to eat. Dean does that to me.

  “I really hate this sometimes,” he says, and looks over at me, his green eyes holding a wealth of pain. “I really hate you, and the way you’ve got me all twisted up inside.”

  I chew slowly on my frittata, enjoying the mixture of flavours. It serves to distract me from the ache between my legs, and the way my skin is hyper-sensitive. The way I’m hanging onto his every word, waiting for the green light.

  I set my plate on the coffee table, and move around so I’m facing him fully.

  Dean comes into my space, one hand going to my cheek, tilting my head up slightly so our gazes can meet. “Fucking hell, I want you, Katarina. Badly, so, so badly.”

  I want to make him feel better, wash away the pain of his day, of the anniversary of his father’s death when he didn’t even tell me about it. Yeah, I care for Dean, and I’m going to show him just how much.

  I keep still, letting him make the first move. When you’re in pain, sometimes you want, no, need, distraction to drown it away, at least temporarily. Sometimes you need to hurt someone else, like it’s possible for them to steal the pain away for a few fleeting moments.

  I want to distract Dean, instead of hurting him again. I don’t know what kind of person that makes me right now, unable to fully give him what he wants from me. It’s more than sex for Dean, and I don’t want to give him anymore than I already have.

  But we’re both here, and he’s hurting…

  Dean leans closer, eyes moving from my lips to eyes, gaging my reaction. I think he knows I’m not going to stop him, not now. Finally our mouths meet and I’m drowning in him, elated that we’re going to finish what he started at the cemetery. He groans into my mouth, opening for me so I can sweep my tongue inside and kiss him, make him forget his name.

  The world ceases to exist, and we move closer to each other, and I finally have his weight on top of me, my goddamn skirt hampering me from opening my legs so he fits in the cradle of my hips. His hard cock is hitting my hip bone, and a growl comes out of him as he starts nibbling on my lips, stinging bites that I sure as fuck I never liked until now.

  “We need to go slow,” he groans, pulling away from my mouth every time he says a word. His hips fall more deeply into me as he tries to anchor his weight on his hands on either side of me.

  “Stop talking,” I tell him, fisting my hands in his hair and making sure he doesn’t pull away from me again. Our tongues do the talking for us, a perfect battle of want and need, raspy flesh in a bid to taste more of the other. Fuck, I missed this. I missed him and I didn’t even know it.

  “Please, I’m going to make it end before we even get started.”

  No guy I know would willingly admit that to a girl. And that Dean is admitting it to me has me fighting back a grin and wanting to maul him further. I’d love to find out just how much out of control I can make him be.

  “You make that sound like it’s a bad thing,” I tell him, practically mewling when he somehow turns and gets me on top of him. His hands go to my ass, squeezing and shaping, cupping and generally making everything inside me incinerate. I pulse and throb and I desperately need pressure and friction.

  Dean somehow gets his hands under my skirt, and starts pushing it up my thighs, drugging sweeps of his hands on my legs, taking his time, making this more into torture than a one-stop-shop. His fingers knead my leg muscles, his thumbs tracing slow circles on my inner thighs, travelling up, up and up, until the skirt is over the swell of my hips, over my ass and just sits there like a tire around my waist.

  Fuck yes, I can spread my legs, positioning myself on top of him to get him exactly where I need. Dean’s cock is against me, hard and hot, and he sinks his teeth into my bottom lip just as I start to grind against him, using slow sweeps of my hips, up and down, up and down.

  When Dean let’s go of my lip, I somehow fight the haze and look down at his face, a mixture of pain and pleasure twisting his features, his green eyes lost in sensation. His mouth’s open for the bouts of air he needs to drag in, and his hands are clutching my hips, almost as if he’s fighting himself to make me go faster… or slower.

  “Dean…” I whisper, sitting up, palms going to his chest. Oh, God, this is so good, so so good. I fumble for the buttons on my blouse, only to have Dean tear it off me, pulling down my bra cups and letting all of me out for him to see.

  Some sort of fire lights behind his eyes, and I’m liking this cav
eman part of him, this version that doesn’t stumble on words, or actions, the kind that takes what he wants, and what he wants is to make me feel good.

  Fuck, his palms graze my sensitive nipples, making me arch my back and toss back my head. I continue grinding on him, breathing ragged, stomach hollow, every inch of me centered and the ache between my legs, the emptiness, and the sparks of white hot heat that explodes every time my clit hits him on the down stroke.

  “Shit,” he growls, lifting himself up so that we’re mouth to mouth again. I get his suit jacket off, and start undoing all the buttons of his shirt, laughing when I hit his skin with my hands.

  He’s so hot right now, his heat warming my hands, his tongue dancing with mine in my mouth in such flawlessness that I forget I need to breathe.

  I pull back, smiling at him, loving the way he’s looking at me.

  His features have twisted again, his teeth coming down to chew on his lower lip. He hugs me close, crushing me to his body, mouth going to my neck, to my sensitive spot that dissolves me into shivers, and somehow centers in the heart of my pussy.

  The sucking sensation against my throat has me begging him to take off my panties, to sink into me, but I don’t get an answer any more than him continuing to suck my skin, his tongue swirling, his teeth grazing me there.

  My whole body’s on fire, my hands are everywhere on his, nails raking down his chest and abs, watching in awe as they contract under my touch.

  I’m suddenly sitting, facing the TV, and fuck if I know who’s winning the game. Dean takes off my blouse fully, tossing it over his shoulder and quickly unsnapping my bra from around my ribcage. He moves in closer, getting his hands underneath me and unzipping my skirt. My panties are removed with the same tug he uses to get me out of my skirt.

  I’m completely naked before him, and I’ve never felt more powerful, more alive, more…me.

  “Christ,” he breathes, one hand going to my slightly round stomach, his eyes going to my pussy, staring down with such an intensity I’ll probably come from that alone.

  “God, kitten, just look at you.”

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