And let’s be honest here, this slow burn has been slowly burning for five years. That’s a long time to wait for an orgasm from a guy you’ve always had a thing for.
Before I can even brace myself, I’m panting and moaning and chanting Dax’s name, locking my ankles together tightly behind his back, dry humping my way through an orgasm that arrived in an embarrassingly short amount of time.
“Holy shit,” Dax mutters, removing his mouth from the side of my neck to look at me, my chest heaving and my hips still jerking a little against him, wanting more, even though I should be a little mortified right now. “That was so fucking hot. I mean… Jesus.”
He peppers kisses along my cheek, and I forget about being embarrassed when I can feel it between my legs that Dax is even harder than he was before.
“Bedroom. Now.”
Dax’s mouth crashes against mine again, and he immediately complies with my order, pushing us away from the wall and walking us toward my room. My legs are still wrapped securely around his hips, and he grips tightly to my ass with both hands while I grip tightly to the back of his head. He carries me through my dark house, our lips never parting until we’re in my room and Dax is standing right at the edge of my bed.
“Are you sure? We can Netflix and not chill. I’m totally fine with that,” he whispers.
Running one of my hands through his hair and pushing it back out of his face, I clutch onto a handful and kiss the tip of his nose this time.
“I’m sure. Take your pants off.”
I let out another shrieking laugh when Dax suddenly tosses me onto my bed.
And then let out an actual shriek of fear when the moonlight shining through my bedroom window suddenly makes it possible for me to see a whole hell of a lot of beady little eyes staring at me.
“Holy shit, what the fuck?”
I’m still shrieking and screaming as I scramble backward up the bed until I get to the headboard and can reach over and turn on my bedside table lamp. When my room is filled with the soft glow of the lamp, the freaked out look on Dax’s face at the foot of my bed from all my screaming turns into a look of absolute humor. He throws his head back and laughs while I let out a frustrated huff.
Dax leans over my bed and picks up a large wooden box filled with entirely too many dead turtles and holds it up.
“Oh look. Your dad also left a note with his cock-blocking box.” He laughs, reading the note taped to the top out loud. “Pretend the twenty turtles in this box are actually sea turtles and not ones I found in Kevin’s pond. Fun fact about sea turtles, Harley: Sea turtles eat jellyfish, and the poison inside the jellyfish doesn’t harm them but intoxicates them much in the same way as marijuana. Isn’t that fun? Love, Dad.”
Dax turns the box around when he finishes reading the letter so I can see again that my father has made me a box of horrors filled with turtles smoking tiny joints, wearing tiny shirts that say different things on them like It’s Always 4:20 Somewhere, and Don’t Panic, It’s Organic.
I let out a groan, throwing my hands over my face so I don’t have to look at it any more.
“It’s okay if you’ve changed your mind about me,” I speak behind my hands, hearing the sounds of Dax moving around my room, hopefully hiding the damn box somewhere. “Ridiculous things like this will never stop happening around me. It’s a lot. I’m a lot.”
I’ve never even shrieked going down a roller coaster, but I do it for the fourth time in less than a half hour when Dax wraps his hands around both my ankles and yanks me back down the bed closer to him. I open my eyes again just in time to watch him take off his vest and toss it to the floor then unbutton his white dress shirt, pulling it off and throwing it down with the vest.
Scars? What scars? There are scars under all that hot, beautiful artwork covering his washboard abs and muscular chest?
“You’re really pretty,” I whisper, making one of Dax’s dimples pop out as he looks down at me spread out in the middle of my bed with my dress bunched up around my thighs.
I forget all about the dead turtles when he leans forward, resting his knee on the bed in between my legs, and runs both his palms up the outside of my bare thighs until they disappear under the skirt of my dress. I’m panting by the time his fingers wrap around the lace material of my thong on either side of my hips, and I lift up so he can slowly pull them down my legs and toss them with his shirt and vest.
Dax climbs onto the bed and over my body, bracing himself above me with his hands on either side of my head. I have no choice but to run my palms up his bare chest, making sure his muscles feel as incredible as they look. You know, for science and stuff.
“You’re not a lot. You’re exactly the right amount, and you’re perfect.”
And I’m about two seconds away from another orgasm, just by having him slowly take my underwear off, look at me the way he’s looking at me, and say the things he’s saying.
“Can I keep going?”
Since for the first time in my life I’m completely at a loss for words, I just quickly nod.
Dax kisses me long, and soft, and delicate, holding himself above me before making his way back down my body. The skirt of my dress is pushed up to my hips, and I don’t even have time to gasp before his face is buried between my thighs. His mouth is hot and wet as it circles and sucks on my clit, and I grip the blankets in my fists on either side of my body, rolling my hips against his mouth. He never eases up, never slows down, just keeps licking and sucking and driving me insane until another orgasm is washing over me, harder and stronger than the first one.
I’m screaming Dax’s name, and my hands let go of the blankets to grab onto the back of his head while he swirls his tongue around me and pulls every last drop of this orgasm out of me.
I don’t let myself think about how expertly and swiftly Dax removes the rest of his clothes, my dress, bra, and boots and sheathes a condom in less than ten seconds flat. I don’t think about where, how, or with all the whos he perfected those skills. All that practice he had before me means nothing. What’s happening right now between the two of us is all that matters, and it is glorious and mind-blowing.
When Dax takes control again, flipping my body over in the middle of the bed and enters me from behind with one hard thrust, I shout his name when he fills me, praising God for all that practice he had to make him perfect.
Dax pants my name reverently in my ear while he fucks me like a dream, and he makes absolutely certain I know he won’t forget about me after this night is over.
Now I really am otterly fucked, and I don’t mind in the least.
CHAPTER 17
Otterly Dating
Date 2
“Harder… harder…. Oh yeah… right there… more, more, more!”
“If you don’t cut it out, I’m not finishing this shoulder massage.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll behave.”
“I just wanted to do something nice for you. Even if everything you made for dinner tonight had the word pot in it. Do you and my dad take turns sharing a brain, or is this a fight-to-the-death, winner-take-all sort of thing?”
“Pot stickers, homemade chicken pot pie, and an Instant Pot chocolate lava cake for dessert. I’m so punny. Also, don’t lie. You only offered to give me a massage so I’d have to take my shirt off and you could gawk at my tattoos. I feel so used right now, and—Owww, fuck! Why’d you have to pinch me?”