“Want to take me into town tomorrow?” he asks. “We could do lunch. You can show me the sights.”
“I thought you wanted to rough it.”
“I do. But not at the cost of boring you to tears.”
“It’s your vacation. You should do what you came here to do.”
“Did you, and that’s not what I came here for.” His lips twitch. He knows I know he’s kidding. I’m not the least bit offended.
“I work until five tomorrow.”
“Dinner, then.”
“Another date?”
“Starting to sound that way, isn’t it? Are you opposed?”
“You ask a lot of questions,” I say, my tone teasing.
“That’s because I want you to say my favorite word.” He lifts his head off his pillow, laces his hands behind my back, and waits.
“Yes,” I whisper.
“That’s the one.” He kisses me lightly. Light turns to hard. Hard turns to deep.
I slide my hand between our bodies, down, down until I cup his balls. Then I grip his cock in my palm and give him a slow stroke. He pulls his lips from mine to let out a low, pleasure-filled groan.
“I have an idea,” I say.
“Yes,” he answers without hesitation. His eyes are hooded, saturated with heat.
I move down his body, beneath the sleeping bag, and pull down his boxers. His erection is impressive even at half-mast. I deliver a long, slow lick to the tip and feel his hips lift, his ass clench. Then I take him deep into my mouth. He rests his hands on my shoulders, hips still lifting to meet my mouth, as his deep groans fill the air. It’s suffocating under the heavy down sleeping bag and blankets, but I refuse to stop until he’s done. Or so I think.
Without warning, he grips my upper arms and pulls me off him.
I suck in a breath of crisp, cool air as I surface, and am met with deep silvery eyes that have grown dark with intent. His nostrils flare as he throws open the sleeping bag and rolls me to my back. In record time, my leggings are dragged to my ankles and then off completely.
He palms my breasts through my shirt, toying with my nipples as he kisses his way down my torso. At the juncture of my thighs, he stops, yanks aside my panties, and buries his face between my thighs.
Dax locates my clitoris like it has a homing device. He sucks and licks, not letting up until I’m moaning louder than he was. He sets the pace—deep and slow. I thrust and squirm, matching his rhythm as he ravishes me.
A minute later I come. Hard. I attempt to push his head away, but he shows no signs of letting up. His hands grip my ass and squeeze as he renews his efforts. He wrings one more orgasm from me before he stops.
Before I can catch my breath, he’s on top of me. I open my legs to accommodate his width and he slides home in one slow, long, wet stroke.
Oh, he feels so good.
The stroke that follows is even better. I toss my head back, luxuriating in post-orgasmic bliss. He feels better than good—he feels like he belongs here.
After another few luscious glides, Dax comes to an abrupt halt. He’s seated deep, and I can feel him pulsating inside me.
He blinks, dazed. “Fuck.”
“It’s okay. I came earlier.” I weakly stroke his neck. “Go for it.”
“Not that, Princess.” He hovers there, his eyes drilling into mine, his breathing ragged. “Protection.”
“Fuck,” I whisper. We’ve never forgotten that essential step before. “I’m, um... I’m clean. You’re clean, I assume?”
“Babe.” He tilts his head like I shouldn’t assume otherwise.
“Well, slide out and put one on,” I tell him. Then with a devilish smile I add, “Or come inside me, because I’ve been on birth control since I was fifteen.”
“Becca.” I like the growly, desperate way he says my name.
I rest my hand on his T-shirt-covered chest and tilt my hips toward his greedily. He moves only a centimeter, frozen over me in suspension, like hasn’t decided whether to stay or go.
“Do you trust me?” I’m asking so much more than whether he trusts that I’m on birth control.
His answer is to lower to his elbows and kiss me thoroughly. While our tongues mingle, his hips move lazily, his cock sliding deep, and then deeper before pulling out again.
My breaths match his—tight and thin—but he doesn’t pick up the pace, oh no. He continues his sluggish, rhythmic slides. He thrusts with precision, and I tilt to meet him. Soon I’m on the brink of an orgasm so spectacular I wonder if it’ll be like Halley’s comet—once in a lifetime.
“Princess,” he growls.
“Yes. Yes, Dax. Yes.”
“Now.”
On his command, I arch, tightening my channel and clutching his cock. I pulse along with him as he releases a primal growl, his entire body coiled as he comes inside me. He pumps until his hips come to a resting stop and our pelvises are flush against each other.
Then. We breathe. Hard and fast at first, then long and slow.
His kisses warm the center of my chest. We’re still connected where it counts. His fingers play in my hair as my hands stroke up his back and down. I reach lower to grab his taut ass where his muscles flinch.
“Your body is unfairly perfect,” I mutter, happiness lacing my voice.
“Wrong, gorgeous. You’re the perfect one. Can’t think of anywhere I’d rather be than wrapped up in these long legs.” He slides one hand over my thigh and down my calf, lifting my leg and hooking it over his hip. “How long can I rest here before I need to get out? Nothing feels as incredible as your pussy. Could stay here till morning.”
I release a quick exhale of surprise at the word I thought I never liked. When Dax says “pussy,” it’s almost...reverent.
“Morning is a long way away,” I joke.
He kisses me again. We share a smile and an intense eye lock before he pulls out.
I sleep well the rest of the night.
Chapter 18
THURSDAY AFTERNOON
Becca
“I can’t say that anyone has taken me out for vegan food before,” Dax says as we walk the sidewalk downtown.
We ate at a small café called Peace, Love, and Dumplings. They have the most incredible Thai fusion.
“It’s just food,” I say. “Did you like it?”
“No. I loved it.” He shrugs, accepting without any fuss that he ate a meatless meal. “I love food.”
“Anyone can take you out for Tennessee barbecue. Only someone special can take you for Tennessee Thai.”
He captures my hand, lacing his fingers between mine. Our arms brush as we match each other’s leisurely pace alongside the sunshine-saturated street.
“Those sweet potato things...” he starts.
“Spicy Thai sweet potato peanut rolls,” I answer. They’re my favorite item on the menu. Deep-fried like an egg roll and filled with the unlikely ingredients of mashed sweet potatoes and spicy vegetables, served with a thick, rich peanut butter sauce for dipping.
“Can you re-create them?”
“Maybe. I’ve never tried. The kitchen at Tad’s house is usually filled with their two kids and Lara tossing everything into a Crock-Pot for that evening’s meal.”