Chapter 18
clem
Between Dax’s staring and the way his tongue licks his lips, I’m on a high.
Keith never appreciated my body. Not once in our time together, not even at the beginning, did he give any part of me this much attention Dax did in a matter of minutes.
I’m not the girl who needs someone to praise my body, to tell me how good I look, to boost my ego, but damn if it doesn’t feel amazing.
And these are my boobs after pregnancy and nursing two kids for the first year of their lives. These aren’t even the best they’ve ever looked. The way Dax is taking them in, not even blinking, is unconcerning to him.
As much as I could stand here all day with him ogling my chest, I don’t have that kind of time. Not if I want the orgasm he promised me.
Man, do I want that orgasm.
I’ll admit at first I was a little taken aback, but when I let the dust settle and allowed my mind to get on board, I realized why the hell not?
We’re both adults. We can give each other pleasure without it being too complicated and messy.
Hell if I don’t want to see what sex with Dax is like.
I’ve been practically salivating at the prospect before I mentioned it the other day.
This might be Dax Nicholas’s greatest idea ever.
I clear my throat, which breaks the trance he’s in. “Can you multitask?”
“Huh?” He shakes his head. “In what capacity?”
“Play with my breasts while your cock’s in my pussy. Did I get that right?”
His jaw clenches. “Yep. To both. On the bed with you. Lose the leggings.” The deep gravel in his voice almost has me coming.
I’m not ashamed to admit the longer he gaped at my chest, moisture pooled between my thighs. Such a turn-on I never knew I needed. Doubt we’ll even need foreplay.
I shimmy out of my leggings and panties and plant myself on the bed, resting on my elbows so I can watch the show of him getting undressed.
It’s not a striptease or anything, but it’s fascinating the rate at which he’s soon naked.
On the side of his abdomen, I spy a tattoo of a wrench and some other tool but miss my opportunity to see it all as he joins me on the bed, leaning on his forearms, hovering over me.
“Are you a kisser with casual sex or is it a no-go?”
I wasn’t prepared for the man to be so gentlemanly in the bedroom. Technically, I wasn’t prepared for the man to be in the bedroom, so I guess I’m not sure what I expected.
Or rather, didn’t.
“You can kiss me,” I tell him, a swarm of butterflies taking flight in my abdomen.
The last man I kissed was Keith, but even with a gun to my head, I couldn’t tell you when it was. When my last kiss was.
When the last time I had sex was.
When I last felt so desired.
I shouldn’t be getting so worked up emotionally. The only thing riding on this act is the orgasm he promised me. I’m not complaining we’re doing more, but I have to keep in mind nothing else can come of this.
Yet, I told him he could kiss me.
When his face lingers right in front of mine, I realize my mistake.
The hunger in Dax’s eyes is bound to destroy me. Not that I’m prepared to stop this roller coaster. Like the amusement ride, once in motion, it’ll stay that way until it reaches the end.
For us, that’s the promised orgasm.
His mouth presses to mine gently, and my first thought is disappointment. How much of a letdown it is. I thought there’d be at least a small spark of chemistry. All the signs were there, and nada.
Not even the slightest twinge of electricity.
Without taking the kiss further, he pulls away, his caramel gaze seeking mine. “Mind if I make us more comfortable?”
I’m not anticipating his question, so I stutter, “S-sure,” curious to see what he has in mind.
His smile shines as bright as the Christmas tree in the living room.
“Excellent.” His hands softly push my shoulders to the bed.
He situates his lower half at my waist, draping his upper half over mine at an angle.
His head breaches the space between us again, this time stopping an inch away from mine.
“Let’s try this again. You here with me? ”
“Present and accounted for,” I quip, my sense of humor coming out in full force.
“Brilliant.” And then his mouth is on mine, and I can’t breathe.
The way his lips cover mine, swallowing any protest mine could conjure up.
The way his tongue seeks entrance, invading my mouth without permission.
The way his hands cup the sides of my face, the calluses tickling my skin.
When I clue in he’s doing all the work, I become a willing participant, mirroring his actions.
It’s a heady kiss, one filled with passion and vigor and heat. So much freaking heat, I’m surprised my lips aren’t ablaze.
Forget what I said before about there being no chemistry. The connection sizzles between us, the intensity so strong, it could light the room on fire.
I wouldn’t even stop if it did. It feels too good to stop.
“Dax,” I moan, my head tipping back to expose my neck. He takes the invitation, moving his mouth lower, licking and nipping the exposed column. My hands seek purchase in his hair, and my fingers tangle in the neat locks, tugging gently on the ends.
His tongue leaves my neck, his mouth latching on to my right breast. It’s so amazing, my hips buck off the bed, though with his body weight, they can’t go far.
More moisture pools between my thighs, my lady parts needing in on the action. It’s been so long since I’ve felt this alive, I wouldn’t be surprised if he induced an orgasm with his tongue. As it swirls around the perky nipple, tension coils in my abdomen.
Five minutes in, and I’m ready to surrender to this man.
The thought brings a stark realization of not allowing that to happen. I can use him for my pleasure, but that’s all. I can’t fall for him, can’t lose myself in him, can’t get caught up in his web. No matter he’s not my ex, my self-worth is too important to give up.
But do I stop him from painting my skin with his saliva? Nope. Part of my self-worth is taking what he promised me.
I’m going to be a mess when this ends. Because I didn’t think one act of casual sex could feel this good.
Could feel this right, if I’m honest.
I’m so up in my head and my feels, everything comes crashing in when I feel nothing. I lift my head, my breath erratic, and stare at the man who has ceased every action. His bare chest heaves, his expression a mask of indiscernible emotion. He runs a hand through his hair and expels a breath.
“Why did you stop?”
“I wasn’t expecting this.” His words make little sense, but maybe that’s because I’m in a state of confusion. Here I was, thinking I’d have an orgasm provided by Dax, and yet, I’m in this state of bliss without the orgasm.
“Weren’t expecting what?” I don’t hide the irritation in my tone. He has one job, dammit, and he’s failing at giving me an orgasm.
“For lack of a better term, connected.”
Do I admit I feel the same? What could it hurt?
“Same, but you’re making it sound like a bad thing.” Despite not wanting to, I sit up and rest against the pillows, tucking my thighs into my chest. “Is it?”
“In the sense of providing you with one orgasm, yeah.”
His words muddy this conversation. “Why?”
Dax sits back on his heels, his glorious cock on full display.
It’s not the least bit deflated, which means the man is highly affected.
“Because, Clementine.” He emphasizes my name in a high-pitched voice.
If I thought I enjoyed the way he expressed it before now, it’s got nothing on this inflection. “I don’t want to stop at one.”
I bite back the gasp trying to escape at his honesty. He’s peeling back more layers of who I thought Dax Nicholas was, and I’m here for all of it.
As nonchalantly as I can—and I’m not sure I can pretend to be indifferent in this moment—I state with a shrug, “So don’t.”
His brows arch in disbelief, caught off guard by my statement. “You’re sure?”
“That I want you to give me more than one orgasm? Yeah, Dax. I’m sure.”
“What if we need more after two?” With the confusion somewhat cleared up, he gets back to work. His first act is untucking my thighs from my chest, spreading them wide.
“How about we cross that bridge when we get to it? ‘Cause right now, the one you promised is still eluding me. Want to remedy that?”
He reaches for the box of condoms he dropped on the bed earlier and sheathes himself in record time. My back is against the pillows, but instead of laying me down, Dax fits himself between my legs, his cock perched at my opening. He taps his thighs. “Need your legs here.”
His words fluster me to the point the only thing I can do is obey his command.
And yes, it’s a command. Curse him for bringing so much sexiness to what’s supposed to be a casual way to get off.
The shift in position allows him to breach my entrance in one swift movement.
“Eep,” I cry out in pleasure.
The next thing I know, his arms snake behind my back, and he pushes our torsos together, all still while he’s inside me.
I’ve never experienced sex in this position, but from where I’m sitting, there’s nothing “casual” about this. Not that I’m complaining or bringing it up now. It feels good—too good—to do anything but relish the feeling and be in the moment with this man.
Dax’s lips meet mine, and he mumbles something about multitasking, but I’m too in the moment to fully comprehend the meaning.
I can’t explain what’s even happening except for the pleasure his cock inside me brings.
And his tongue in my mouth.
It’s more than joyful.
It’s euphoric.
It’s merry, to be aligned with the season.
It shouldn’t be this good, but maybe it only feels this good because it’s been so long for me. Maybe I’ve forgotten what it feels like.
But then again, it’s never felt like this, so I couldn’t have forgotten.
I’m too up in my head, so I shake out of my thoughts and lean into the feelings.
How Dax explores my mouth with his tongue.
How he pulls his dick out and pushes back in a moment later, going deeper.
How the sudden onset of an orgasm has my body soaring with pleasure.
“Yesssss, Dax. I’m so close. Get me there,” I mumble against his lips.
He severs the fusion of our mouths. “As you wish.” His arms pull me tighter to him, and he juts his hips and flexes his thighs, pistoning deeper inside me.
And I lose the battle my body wages. The orgasm takes hold, and I careen downward at such a speed, I wonder if I’ll splatter when I fully hit the ground.
Waves contentment wash over me, my body going slack in Dax’s arms. His assault on my vagina doesn’t let up as he chases his release. I’m so lost in the sensation of flying, I don’t notice the way he pounds into me.
Until he comes on a grunt and his body stills. “Fuck, Clementine. Fuck.”
I’m barely conscious of his words, of what they mean, because damn him for making this feel better than any other encounter. My body is sated in a completely foreign way, but my breaths come quickly as adrenaline floods every pore.
Dax Nicholas has ruined me for every other man who comes after him.
And yet, I don’t hate him for it. I can’t.
Because it was that good, that worth it.
Dax holds me a little longer, as we both come down from the high of whatever the hell that was. Sex? I don’t think so.
An out-of-body experience seems more of an accurate description.
When we’re a little less restless and more settled, he pulls out, careful not to let the condom spill. As soon as he’s out from under me, my body slackens onto the bed.
“Don’t get too comfortable.” Dax’s hazy voice filters through my head.
“Too late.” A lazy smile finds my lips because damn was that good.
“Remember the whole ‘one isn’t enough’?” His question penetrates through the fog in my brain, the meaning also fuzzy.
“What of it?”
“I owe you at least one more.”
His comment has my eyes opening and me sitting up. “Now?” I squeak. “Right this minute?” I can’t fathom how or why I’d need another orgasm so soon. Does he not see how boneless I am?
“You never mentioned exactly how much time you had this morning.”
I blink my eyes, my brain trying to come up with an answer. Because he’s right. But he also never told me how long he could stay. So I go with that, making him the one who has to decide how long he’s staying.
“What time do you need to be at work?”
“When I get there.” His heady gaze stares at me.
Hmm. Very unhelpful answer.
“What time is it?”
“Phone’s in the other room. You got a clock in here?”
“Echo, what’s the time?” I call out.
“It’s nine forty-five a.m.,” the computerized voice supplies.
Taking a quick mental inventory of my day, I speak, “I have until about eleven, eleven-thirty at the latest, before I must do something related to my personal or professional lives.”
“I didn’t have breakfast. Wanna break for some food before I make good on a second orgasm?”
Despite being thoroughly ravaged and pleased, my lady parts delight in his suggestion.
“Sounds like a plan to me.”