10 - Lane #2
His face was completely unguarded and awash with pleasure, his mouth open. I felt my pussy throb around his fingers, and it was that signal that seemed to rouse him back to the present. When he started moving again, he did so with a newfound resolve.
I was sure that Dax and I shared certain reservations because he buried his face in my neck again, and while the illusion might’ve been that he wanted to tease me more, I knew it was something more than that. He was hiding and I let him.
I let him rebuild those walls enough to turn the spotlight back on me and it was my turn to lose my footing when he slid another finger inside of me and started circling my clit with his thumb. The dexterity was unfair as hell but I didn’t even have the sense left to complain.
My body was starting to sing for him, that familiar knot of tension pulling tighter and tighter in my core and all it took was one final kiss for it to snap. I came all over his hand, biting into his shoulder to muffle the scream that I was certain Bear and Sy would be able to hear.
Dax let me break against him and held me against the wall until the aftershocks finally started to subside. That was the hardest I’d come in a long time and my body was extra sensitive.
“Not so funny now, is it, Whittaker?” Dax said with that stupid smirk on his face again and in retaliation, I brushed my thumb against the glans of his dick. His body jerked against my touch and his breath hitched.
“It’s pretty funny,” I insisted, giving him a weak smile. “Now are you gonna stand there and think up your next wisecrack or are you gonna fuck me?”
Dax managed to do the impossible and actually bite back his retort long enough for him to lean one arm above my head and brace himself while his other hand guided his cock towards my entrance.
“Is this what you want, Counselor?” he mouthed against my jaw, teasing my folds with the tip of his dick. My body reacted before logic could stop it and my hips lurched forward, instantly seeking more friction. Dax chuckled in satisfaction. “Guess you do.”
He made it a game, evidently wanting more of a reaction from me the more I tried to fight it.
He flinched every time the most sensitive part of him grinded against the most sensitive part of me, but he still wouldn’t yield.
Flashes of sharper pleasure pierced through the last of the aftershocks and I craved another high, needed to feel another inescapable crash before my brain truly rebooted.
But when I reached down, pissed off and impatient and so embarrassingly desperate for it that I wanted him to join me in that humiliation, his laughter guttered out. Now, when I used my hands to guide him inside me, he didn’t possess the restraint to sustain his ego anymore.
Instead he slipped inside my pussy and couldn’t stop his body from caving around mine. The soul-deep groan that he released in my ear wasn’t loud but it may as well have been a scream for the way I felt it echo in my own chest.
He braced me against the door again, his lips pressed to my cheek and I gripped the nearest shelf frame. There was no more teasing, no more ego, no more games.
We moved together, each of us covering the other’s mouth as our involuntary sounds began to build. Riding off the coattails of my first orgasm, the second was already starting to crest, speeded up by Dax’s loss of self control as my body spurred him towards his own climax.
And when it hit, it hit.
He came first this time, groaning into the palm of my hand. That was it. That was all I needed to see and hear and feel before I let myself go for the second time, my eyes rolling to the back of my skull as wave after wave of white-hot pleasure washed over me.
We stayed like that for a while, unable to move in that tiny, confined space. Both of us were trembling slightly, my own body now also covered with a sheen of sweat.
By the time my eyes opened, his were already looking at me, a hint of fear circling in their depths. The post-sex haze was still charged and volatile and it was an external factor, a terrifying reminder of the time and place that existed outside the pantry door that forced us to spring apart.
“Miller! Where the hell are you? Get your ass back here,” Bear’s voice boomed from somewhere that was terrifyingly close by, making it clear he was not in the basement anymore. Dax and I got dressed quickly, and I tried smoothing down my no-doubt crazy sex hair.
“I’ll go out first and pretend I was just looking for something in the pantry.
Which I was actually doing before you decided to come in and intercept me,” I said pointedly, adjusting my bra beneath my work shirt.
“I’ll direct him back to the basement, then you come out and say you used the guest bathroom or something. Got it?”
When I turned around, Dax was analyzing me with a look that straddled smugness and objective evaluation. Then he reached out and straightened the twisted, dust-stained hemline of my shirt.
I detested how quickly my heart skipped a beat, as though it hadn’t just been pounding at a hundred miles an hour. Dax just gave me a nod, then stood back and opened the door for me to leave.
Like a gentleman that hadn’t just fucked my brains out in my own pantry, right next to the canned tomatoes.
But I simply returned his nod and walked out, head held high because in the slowly, agonizingly painful post-nut clarity that was setting in, I was only now starting to realize what we’d just done.