I kiss his lips briefly, then veer to sample his neck, inhaling his scent as I do.
“Mm, you taste good.” Clean, and he smells like that blue soap guys always use.
He sucks in a sharp breath as I continue placing open-mouthed kisses on his throat. He likes this.
“I have an idea,” I whisper into his ear. I fist the hem of his T-shirt and shove it up, revealing his wide, beautiful chest. I kiss my way over his pecs, along his ribs, and to his belly button, until I’m on my knees on the floor.
“Like your idea already.” He’s leaning back but also coiled—fists balled, nostrils flared. Even his voice is strained. The ridge I felt when I rode his jeans is larger from this vantage point. I look him right in the eyes and lick my lips. His hips buck.
Oh, yeah. I’m going to enjoy this.
“Princess.” It’s nothing short of a growl.
“Yes, my liege?” I bat my eyelashes as I unloop his thick leather belt and carefully slide his zipper aside to reveal several inches of happiness pointing straight up. “No briefs tonight?”
“Not tonight,” he manages. Barely.
“Tell you what, Dax.” I reach for a pillow and wedge it under my knees, my arms resting comfortably over his big thighs. “The only words you need to say from here on out are ‘more,’ ‘don’t stop,’ and your favorite swear word.”
“Fuck,” comes his rumbled response.
“Sounds like you’re ready.” Without any further teasing, I lick the head of his cock and take him inch by inch into my mouth until my lips hit the root.
Then the fun begins.
Chapter 14
Dax
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
I stopped saying it aloud since I can’t enunciate at the moment. Not with Becca between my legs licking me like her favorite ice-cream cone.
She’s not in a hurry, either. She’s going so slow that my brain has melted and oozed out of my ears. There’s nothing rattling around in my head. My body’s just a mangle of sensations. Her hot, wet mouth, the attention her tongue pays to the ridge around the tip of my cock, the way her hands massage my balls.
She takes me deep, then lets up. Cool air chills my damp flesh before she takes me all the way in again, until the tip of my cock hits the back of her throat.
“Fuuuuuck.” It’s strangled, but I manage one more. Hands on her head, I attempt to lift her off—I’m seriously close to going over—but she’s not stopping. Her fingers continue dancing around my sack as she picks up the pace.
And now I can’t breathe.
“Princess,” I pant. “Babe.”
She continues her work as my balls pull up, and a tingle at the head of my dick warns me I have few precious seconds left to stop her.
“Becca.”
She doesn’t even slow down.
I’ve never thought of myself as possessing superhuman strength, but that’s exactly what it takes to put my hands on her shoulders, pry her off my hard-on, and get my knees working well enough to stand. As I’m ripping my jeans off my legs, Becca sits on her knees, prettily swiping the corners of her mouth with her delicate fingers. I swear to God I nearly blow right then.
I blink. Hard. Then open my eyes to find her still on her knees, looking up at me and biting her lip. She looks like every fucking fantasy I’ve ever had.
“On the couch, Princess. Ass in the air.”
Her eyes widen with interest. I fish a condom out of the pocket of my jeans. As I roll it on, she strips out of her dressy clothes, but I only let her go as far as her underwear before I wrap my hand around her thong and pull her back against my front.
Pressing my erection against her butt, I put my lips to her ear. “Say it.”
“Yes,” she breathes.
I rip her panties free and toss them aside. The moment she rests one knee on the couch, I join her and enter from behind in one long, smooth, mind-melting thrust.
She grips the arm of the couch, and I let her get one more knee beneath her before I stroke into her again. I free her of her bra next, reaching around to fondle rose-tipped nipples with one hand. I use the other to clutch onto her hip while I slide in deep again.
And again.
She cries out in pleasure and utters another “yes” for me before her breathy request of “faster” almost floors me. I can go faster.
“Harder?” I ask.
“Harder. Faster.” She drops her head, arches her back.
“Hang on, gorgeous,” I warn, but she turns her face to the side to make sure I see her smile.
Absolutely. Missed. That smile.
I do as she requests. Harder, faster. When I’ve pushed myself to the brink and notice she’s not there yet, I find her clit and massage with my fingertips until she gives me another barrage of “yeses.” I’d love a “Yes, Dax,” but beggars can’t be choosers.
She’s squeezing me from within, her fists clawing at the cushions, though she’s unable to get a grip on the leather. She knocks off pillows and writhes to the sound of her own shouts of pleasure.
Only then do I give in. Embedded deep, I come hard. The slap of her ass against the fronts of my thighs make my release that much better and last a helluva lot longer than I thought possible.
I finish us off and slide my hand around to her breasts, giving each nipple a gentle tweak.
When I pull out, it’s to the tune of Becca’s sated exhale. She slides from ass in the air to flat on her belly on the couch.
“Wow,” comes her muffled praise.
No shit.
“Don’t move.”
“Don’t worry,” I hear her say as I pace to the bathroom. “I can’t.”
“So this is becoming a habit.” Becca’s draped over my body. My back is flat on the couch and I’m wearing her like a blanket. She’s naked, and I didn’t bother with clothes either, so she’s wearing an actual blanket she yanked off the bed.
“That didn’t sound like a complaint.” I smooth my hands over her back and hug her tight against me. I like her here. Right here. I mean, yeah, I like the sex. The BJ is enough of a reason to beg her to stay, but this—her in my arms and the soft scent of her perfume in my nostrils—is somehow better.
Which is unbelievable, because that was some blow job.
“It’s not a complaint.” She doesn’t say any more, and for a long while we lie here, my hands stroking her back, until our hearts beat in sync.
My cellphone buzzes. Then buzzes again. Then once more. I turn my head in the direction of the phone, face down and half out of one of the pockets of my jeans.
“Need to check that?”
“I don’t know what I could do for whoever that is.”
She slides off me, dragging the blanket with her, and grabs my phone.
“Peggy.” Becca hands it over as I sit upright. “She’s insistent.”
I take the phone as it buzzes with two more texts from my mom. “What can I say? She’s been on my ass since birth. Can’t convince her to leave me alone.”
“Your mom?” Becca guesses as I swipe the screen.
“Yes, she is.” I scroll through the texts. The first one says, Forgot to send you the pics from earlier today, and the following five—now six—texts are photos of her flowers. I hand the phone to Becca.