10. Dax #2
"Absolutely critical."
She's already standing up, moving around the table toward me, and when she straddles my lap in the dining chair, I forget what we were just talking about.
"Hi," she whispers, her hands sliding into my hair.
"Hi yourself," I manage, my hands finding her waist under that oversized sweatshirt. Her skin is warm and soft, and when my thumbs brush against her ribs, she shivers.
"We're terrible at being responsible adults," she murmurs against my lips.
"The worst," I agree, then kiss her like I've been thinking about doing since she opened the door.
She tastes like pizza sauce and possibility, and when she makes that small sound in the back of her throat, my brain officially stops functioning. My hands slide up her back, pulling her closer, and she responds by rolling her hips against me in a way that makes me groan into her mouth.
"Bedroom?" she asks breathlessly when we finally break apart.
"Couch is closer," I point out, nodding toward her living room.
She laughs, and the sound makes my chest warm. "I like the way you think, Kingston."
I stand up, lifting her with me, and she wraps her legs around my waist like it's the most natural thing in the world. Three steps to the couch, and I'm sitting down with her still in my lap, my hands already working on getting that sweatshirt over her head.
"Wait," she says, catching my hands. "I want to do something."
"What?"
She grins, walking over to the fridge and coming back with a can of whipped cream in her hand, mischief sparking in her eyes. "Remember how you said watching Fifty Shades was research?"
"Yeah?"
"Well, I think it gave me some ideas."
She shakes the can once, pops the cap, and gives me a look that’s pure sin. "Tell me, Mr. Kingston… how do you feel about getting a little messy?"
Jesus Christ. "I feel very positively about getting messy with you, Dr. Bennett."
"Good," she says, and before I can ask what she's planning, she's pulling her sweatshirt over her head.
She's not wearing a bra.
My brain flatlines completely as I stare at her, sitting in my lap in nothing but those yoga pants, her hair falling around her shoulders, completely unselfconscious and absolutely fucking gorgeous.
"You're staring," she observes, but she's smiling.
"I'm appreciating," I correct, my hands coming up to cup her breasts. They fit perfectly in my palms, and when I brush my thumbs over her nipples, she gasps. "God, Tessa, you're perfect."
"Tell me," she says, her voice getting breathier as I continue touching her. "Tell me what you're thinking."
"I'm thinking about how your breasts fit in my hands like they were made for me," I say, rolling her nipples between my fingers and watching her arch into the touch. "How these perfect pink nipples get hard when I touch them, and how much I love the sounds you make when I do this?—"
I lean forward and take one nipple into my mouth, sucking gently, and she cries out, her fingers tangling in my hair.
"I'm thinking about how your ass feels in my hands when I pull you against me," I continue, suiting action to words and gripping her firmly. "How you fit against me perfectly, like you were designed to drive me completely insane."
"Dax," she breathes, and I can feel her heart racing against my chest.
"And I'm thinking about how much I want to make you come apart in my arms again, but slower this time. Taking my time to learn every inch of you until I know exactly how to make you scream my name."
She tips the can with deliberate precision, releasing a slow, sinful stream of whipped cream across her collarbone and down between her breasts. My cock throbs just watching it, every nerve in my body keyed in on that single, devastating image.
"Your turn to get messy," she says with a wicked grin.
I don't need to be asked twice. I lean forward and follow the trail of whipped cream with my tongue, starting at the hollow of her throat and working my way down.
She tastes sweet and decadent, but underneath it all she tastes like Tessa—warm, and intoxicating.
By the time I reach her breasts, her breathing is ragged, her pulse fluttering wildly beneath my lips.
"Jesus, that's hot," she gasps as I lick whipped cream from her nipple. "Maybe watching Fifty Shades was educational after all."
"Best research I've ever done," I agree, moving to her other breast and making her arch against me with a broken moan.
"We should definitely finish that movie sometime," she pants.
"Later," I say, my hands moving to the waistband of her yoga pants. "Right now I want to see all of you."
I lift her slightly so I can pull her pants down, and she helps by wiggling out of them until she's completely naked in my lap, beautiful and flushed and looking at me like I'm the only man in the world.
"Your turn," she says, tugging at my shirt.
We manage to get my clothes off without falling off the couch, which I consider a minor miracle given how distracted I am by the feeling of her hands exploring my chest and shoulders. When I'm finally as naked as she is, she pushes me back against the couch cushions and straddles me again.
"I want you inside me," she says simply, and the directness of it nearly undoes me.
"Are you sure?"
"I've never been more sure of anything."
I reach for my wallet, grabbing the condom I've been carrying hopefully since Detroit, and she takes it from me with steady hands.
"Let me," she says, and fuck me, watching her roll it down my length while maintaining eye contact is probably the most erotic thing I've ever experienced.
When she sinks onto me slowly, we both groan at the exquisite stretch. She feels incredible—tight and warm and perfect—and for a moment we just stay like that, adjusting, savoring the shock of being joined so completely.
"Okay?" I murmur, my hands firm on her hips.
"More than okay ," she breathes, her lashes fluttering. " God, Dax… you feel so good ."
She starts moving, slow and steady, her body rising and falling in a rhythm that has my control unraveling fast. I grip the couch cushions with white-knuckled fists, fighting not to embarrass myself. When I reach between us, she catches my hand, her eyes dark with intent.
"I want to try something."
She shifts, stretching one leg along the couch while the other remains bent at my side, opening herself to me in a way that has every thought in my head short-circuiting.
The new angle lets me sink deeper, and she controls the pace with agonizing precision.
My hand slides down her thigh to hold her steady as she moves, and the position gives me a perfect view of her face—flushed, lips parted, every expression a roadmap of her pleasure.
My other hand finds her clit, my thumb stroking her in time with our thrusts.
"Better?" I rasp.
Instead of answering, she rolls her hips just right, and I swear I almost lose it right there.
"So much better," she gasps. "Don't stop. Please don't stop."
Like I could ever stop. I match her rhythm, my hand still between us circling her clit while she rides me. The combination makes her shudder, her head falling back, hair tumbling around her shoulders.
"Come for me," I groan, voice rough with need. "I need to see you fall apart for me, Tessa."
Her body seizes around me as my name tears from her lips—a sound I want to bottle and keep forever. She pulses so tightly it nearly drags me over the edge with her, but I grit my teeth, holding on through sheer will. Not yet. Not until I've given her everything.
Before she can catch her breath, I grip her hips and flip us, laying her back against the couch cushions with me above her. She laughs, breathless and gorgeous, her eyes already dark with want again.
“God," she whispers, arching up to meet me, her whole body begging for more.
I slide the head of my cock slowly through her wetness, just enough to make her whimper. “You’re so fucking wet for me.”
"Dax—" her voice breaks, desperate.
I press in just an inch, then pull back, watching her writhe. “Say it, Tessa. Tell me what you want.”
"I want you inside me. All of you. Please—I need all of you .”
That’s all it takes. With a low groan, I thrust deep, burying myself in her until we’re both shaking, until there’s nothing left between us but heat and need.
I grin, kissing her hard before sliding lower, down her throat, her chest, the soft curve of her stomach. I ease out of her only to settle between her thighs, and she opens for me instantly, pulling me closer with a needy whimper.
I bury my mouth against her, tasting her, worshipping her, giving her everything she’s begging for. Her hips rise to meet me, chasing every stroke of my tongue, and the sounds she makes are enough to undo me completely.
" Fuck, I love your mouth ," she moans.
When she’s trembling, close again, I slide back inside her in one deep thrust. Her cry shatters against my mouth when I kiss her, and the mix of sensations sends her spiraling a second time—harder, louder, more overwhelming than before.
Her body grips me tight, and I finally let go, thrusting through my own release until I’m completely spent.
We collapse together on the couch, drenched in sweat, limbs tangled, lungs burning for air.
For a long moment, the only sound is our ragged breathing. Then she lifts her head just enough to meet my gaze, her expression dazed and utterly wrecked.
"You’re going to kill me," she whispers, but the smile tugging at her lips makes it clear she’d let me.
I kiss her hard, tasting her satisfaction. "Not a chance. I plan on keeping you alive so I can do that to you again and again."
We stay tangled together on the couch, and for the first time in my life, I understand what people mean when they talk about feeling complete. Like I've found the piece of myself I didn't know was missing.
"Stay tonight," she says quietly, her fingers tracing patterns on my chest. "I know it's risky, but I don't want you to leave."
"Are you sure?"
"I'm sure. Besides, someone needs to help me finish that pizza. It would be a shame to waste it."
I laugh, pulling her closer. "In that case, I'd be happy to stay."