25. Della
DELLA
For the first time in five years, I feel alive. A wonderful, vibrating-under-my-skin kind of alive.
And when I’m near Jaxon Wills, it’s dangerous.
If I could cherry-pick things I’d want in someone, it would be him; sinfully hot, kind beyond words, hilarious, strong, respectful, safe, I mean…
everything. He is the whole package. When he told me why he pulled away from me at the bar, it made sense.
I still didn’t love it, but I understood.
And that catapulted him into the stratosphere.
The laughter replaced the rejection I felt at the bar, and it was forgotten by the time we arrived home.
Stopping in front of cabin fourteen, he turns off the truck.
I assumed that he’d drop me off like he did last time.
Instead, he jumps out, makes his way to my side, and helps me down.
His hand slides against my back as we walk up the stairs, and the moment his fingers touch my skin, the familiar heat rushes back in.
As I’m fumbling around for my keys, Jaxon gently grabs my wrist, and the gesture makes my pulse race.
Without a word, he uses his free hand to take the purse and put it on the ground, before looking back to me, fire in his eyes.
My gaze bounces between them and the lips he just licked, and when he takes a step toward me, I take one back until my spine meets the door.
I’m pretty sure the people six cabins over hear my inhale because yes.
Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.
“Ask me,” he says.
My mind goes through dozens of things in an instant, but I don’t know what he’s talking about. “I’m not sure what to ask you,” I whisper. As if speaking loudly could break this moment.
“Ask me what I see when I look at you, Della.”
“What do you see when you look at me?”
“I see one of the most gorgeous women I’ve ever seen in my life, inside and out.
” He lets go of my wrist now that he has my attention, and skates his hand over my bare thigh.
When the other lands on my hip, I think I might ignite.
“She has the most perfect hips that I can’t stop touching,” he says, squeezing me.
Then his hand trails up my side, past the outline of my breast, up past my collarbone, slightly grabs around my neck before moving to land on my cheek.
“She has the most beautiful, sparkling blue eyes, and they hold so much light that it breaks my heart that sparkle was ever taken away. The most adorable button nose that fits her face, and these lips. Holy shit, these lips. Pouty, perfect, so fucking kissable.” The words are almost breathless, and the octave of his voice has lowered to a huskiness I’ve never heard. He’s so close to me.
As his thumb drags my bottom lip down, molten arousal explodes through my entire body. He could have me any way he wanted right now.
Breathe, Della. You have to breathe. I think to myself.
If his hands continue to dance over my skin and he makes it under my dress, he will find evidence of what this is doing to me…
what he is doing to me. My eyes close in anticipation of what’s going to happen next.
Fifteen minutes ago, he told me he wanted me in the right headspace.
I’m unsure what changed, but I’m not complaining. This is exactly what I want.
“Then what are you waiting for?” The confident words escape my lips.
“I’m worried if I start, I’m not stopping,” he breathes, close enough for me to feel the exhale.
“Then don’t stop,” I whisper, waiting for the kiss.
When it doesn’t follow, I open my eyes to his darting around my face, as if he’s been studying it the entire time.
I tilt my head towards him, making it easy for him to take my lips. I’ve never experienced this kind of tension before; it's tighter than a bowstring and waiting to snap. But apparently, I’ve read it wrong again, because he takes a step back and clears his throat.
“What?” I yell into the air, the sound echoing around.
“Is that the kind of desire you’re after?” he asks, without the signature confidence in his voice.
My mouth drops open. I take back what I said. I can’t do this. Him getting me worked up, then flipping the gears to this as if it’s a teaching moment? There’s no way.
No. Fucking. Way.
This will leave me feeling shittier than not getting any at all.
I feel like an idiot while I bend down, seething, to pick up my purse.
But I stop when he kicks it away from my hand.
Standing back up, I straighten my spine to give him an earful, because if he thinks he can do that again, he’s got another thing coming.
But before my mouth opens, he presses me hard against the door and crashes his lips to mine.
The moan that comes out of the back of my throat is a sound I’ve never made before.
It’s like I just found water in the desert after I’d forgotten what it was like to be anything but thirsty.
There is nothing calculated about this kiss; it’s desperate, raw, and fueled by a kind of desire I didn’t think existed.
His tongue slides into my mouth the second our lips connect, and I greedily meet him. When he lets out a groan of his own, I smile at the victory of making him lose control like this.
His body pins me to the door, and I wrap my arms around his neck, meeting him in his hunger. In the frenzy of the moment, one thing is abundantly clear: Jaxon Wills can kiss… devastatingly well.
Before I know it, his hand goes under my ass, and he pulls me into the air.
Instinctively, my legs wrap around his waist, and I settle in the cradle of his hips.
Between my sundress being hiked above my waist and the fact that I’m lined up so perfectly to him, I feel the ridge of his dick straining against his jeans.
A fluttery breath escapes me because, although I’m trying to stay in the moment, I can’t help but think about how a different dick would feel inside me, especially one that I can feel through denim.
Rocking on him shamelessly, we both gasp for air.
“Fuck Della, what are you doing to me?” he says as his lips trail down my neck, kissing me while my head tilts towards the sky. I want every inch of me available for him to take.
“Trying to fuck you through your pants,” I say in one shaky breath. My words are dirtier than any I’ve used before. Part of me feels wrong for saying it, but the other part feels oh-so-fucking right.
“Fuck,” he moans back, rocking his hips with more power. It’s like he can’t help himself, and I’m intoxicated by the heady realization that I’m the one making him lose control.
My hands are around his neck, my forearms are braced on his shoulders, and my fingers thread the shag on the back of his head. I don’t care that anyone can see us right now.
As I move on him, chasing my pleasure, he finds my lips again. Aggressive and out of control, he kisses me with abandon before maneuvering me onto the strong thigh that he’s propped up. Confused at first, I pull back to look at him.
“Ride my thigh, Del. Make yourself feel good,” he says before kissing me again, and seeing that this man’s mouth wields power beyond that of a mere mortal, I follow his direction.
Not exactly what I had in mind, but I’m too far gone to care that I’m humping his leg while our teeth gnash against each other.
I don’t want to stop kissing him, but I don’t want to stop moving on him either.
My hands move to grip his shoulders while his bracket my waist and help me move back and forth.
I’m so close to an orgasm, I couldn’t stop now if I tried.
When he pulls away to bring his lips to the shell of my ear, I almost die.
I’ve made some grave mistakes in my past by waiting so long to experience this feeling.
“Fuck, you’re so hot, Della, I can’t wait to watch you fall apart on me.” The rasp of his voice causes me to detonate, and a wave crashes over my body so powerful that I collapse. Without flinching, he holds me, and my head slumps into his chest.
“Oh my God,” I say, gasping for breath. My logic is catching up to me, and it hits me that I just dry-humped myself to orgasm on Jaxon’s thigh.
I’m never going to look at his leg the same.
“I’m so sorry,” I follow up with, mortified.
If I could move, I would run far and fast. Apparently, that’s my new thing: running.
“That was fucking hot, Tatroe.”
“But what about you?” The words spill out. I couldn’t imagine a time when Tripp, or any man for that matter, would stop at just my orgasm. Not that I would complain about doing anything to the man in front of me.
“What about me? I didn’t want to come in my pants because then I’d have to go back home to hide in shame, and I was about thirty seconds away from doing just that.”
“Okay, well, do you want me to… finish the job?”
“The job?” he laughs. “Maybe I just wanted to watch you get off. And let me tell you, it was everything I hoped it would be. Let’s get inside.”
He bends to grab my purse and fishes out the keys.
I’m a mix between dazed from the orgasm and mortified at how it happened.
But the feeling… that feeling of being unable to keep away?
The thrill I got when he pushed me up against the door?
It’s exactly how I hoped it would feel, and I’ll carry that forever.
In fact, that just became my new standard.
When we get in, I avoid eye contact, and offer him a drink, because I don’t know what else to do with myself. He must feel my shame because before I know it, he corners me by the fridge and uses his fingers to force eye contact like he did in the car.
“Talk to me,” he says.
“I’m… I guess I’m just a little embarrassed of… myself.”
“For taking what you wanted in a moment? I say good for you. Get it, Tatroe. I can’t believe that anyone is repulsed by you, by the way. I heard what you said at the bar last time, and anyone who doesn’t think of you as the gold standard is a fucking fool.”
“You aren’t mad that you didn’t get yours?” Still unable to wrap my head around him not wanting something in return.
“Sex and pleasure aren’t transactional, Della.”
“But don’t you want… like… more?” I ask.
“The thought of you and me together in different scenarios is what’s kept my dick hard for weeks.
I think you’re gorgeous, I think our chemistry is pretty insane, and I would love to show you what great sex is, but I don’t score keep.
Stripping your clothes off on your front porch didn’t make sense in the moment. ”
“But what about now?” The words slip out before I can process the gravity of them.
“Am I still too inebriated to make a sound decision?” The embarrassment from earlier evaporates when he talks about whatever is happening between us…
or maybe it was his proximity and the relentlessly hard dick comment.
Who am I? I mean, I had streaks of boldness before, but not like this.
After a single orgasm, I’m already feeling more empowered by this man.
My hands reach for the front of his pants, and he is still hard as a rock.
He inhales sharply when I stroke him through the denim, and though I felt him on different parts of my body, I can’t believe how big he actually feels between my hands.
“I don’t know you well enough to know if you’re too drunk for this,” he says through gritted teeth, his restraint audibly fraying.
“So you’ll have to take my word for it, then?” I say, undoing his belt, top button, and zipper on his pants, staring at him and daring me to stop, before pulling them down leaving him bulging against his underwear. “Good news. I’m not.”
My hand goes back to stroking the boxer briefs, and trying to gauge if I’m pushing him too far.
His eyes roll back in his head, and I can see him wrestling with the idea.
I know he told me no earlier, but his reason was that I was too drunk.
I’m not anymore, just a little buzzed… just enough to have the suspension of my own self-doubt.
I’ve played by the rules for so long, now it’s time for me to take what I want.
And I want this man.