Page 109 of Ballistic

Was I dreaming? Was it the drugs casting illusions inside my head, ones so real I could feel the stubble of his face beneath my palms and taste the scent of his cologne on the air—a fantasy so vivid, I didn’t want to wake. I wanted to stay in that suspended place.

I kissed his chest, running my hands over the small patches of hair, and up to his broad shoulders, to the back of his neck. I needed to touch every part of him in case I had fallen into a dream. Every inch of his skin would be committed to memory, the weight of his arms banded around me, and the steel of his thighs below me. Tugging him into me, I kissed him with all the desperation and fervor beating through my veins, until I was lightheaded. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

His palms skated over my back, heating my skin, but failing calm me. “You’re shaking like crazy right now.”

The incessant trembling wouldn’t stop—a culmination of excitement and fear battling inside of me.

“Please don’t make me go back there. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for—”

“Shhh. Relax, baby.” He stroked my hair and kissed me. “Calm down. You’re not going anywhere.”

“Is this real?”

His face blurred behind more tears, and at his nod, I smiled through another sob and wrapped my arms around him, turning my face to let him kiss my neck and rest his head against my cheek. In the pause that followed, I breathed. Slow and easy.

“Are you hungry? Or thirsty?”

I shook my head in response. “No. I just want you right now.”

“I’ve been a fucking mess without you.” Both hands gripping my face, he dragged me to his lips. “I’m not letting you go again, Lynx. I don’t care if that makes me just like them. I can’t do that shit again.”

“I won’t leave you again. I promise.” A tearful wheeze of laughter escaped me as I stroked a hand down his stubbled cheek. “You’re really here.” I kissed him again, violent, needy, breathing hard through my nose, as I savored the taste of his lips.

“Tell me that cocksucker didn’t lay a hand on you. I’ll kill him if he did.”

“Forget him. Forget all of them,” I whispered, reaching down into the narrow gap in his pants and gripped hold of his hard cock. “No one else is ever going to touch me again. Except you. Only you.” Another round of tears muddled my vision, and I slid my hand up and down his shaft, toying with the piercing at the tip of his cock. “I need you, Dax. I need this. I want to feel you again.”

At his nudge, I raised myself up to allow him to slide his jeans down his thighs, and he lined his tip at my entrance beneath the gown.

He skimmed the balls of the piercing across my clit, up and down the slit, and I closed my eyes, taking in the soft tickle of metal against my sensitive flesh. With a firm grip on my hips, he lowered me onto his cock, groaning as I impaled his shaft, ass to thighs, the piercing gliding along my walls, until it nailed a pressure spot up inside me. A flush of heat diffused through my muscles, and I tipped my head back, savoring the tight stretch of his cock filling me.

Fumbling at the back of my neck drew my eyes open, as he unfastened the tie and slipped the gown down over my breasts, his eyes hungry. Gaze feasting on me.

That look had become my addiction.

Strange how sex with Dax had become an exercise in power for me. He made me feel strong, untouchable, and utterly fuckable, the way his eyes devoured my flesh. A rare species of male, whose virility was so palpable he hardly had to touch me at all to turn me on, and everywhere he did touch me, my skin blossomed beneath his hands, becoming radiant and primed to his fingertips. I felt worthy when I was with him. Desired.

It made me wish I could’ve gone back to the younger me, at age fourteen when I’d been certain all men were rapists and good men didn’t exist. I’d have told that girl to hang on, because one day she’d meet a man who’d change her whole fucking world.

He circled his hips, stirring the barbell inside of me, intensifying the trembles already hammering my muscles. “Look at you. How fucking beautiful you are,” he said, as easily as striking the match that set my world to flames. So unwitting to the magic of his husky voice and the rousing effect it had on my body, every word that poured from his lips like gasoline, intensifying the fire inside of me.

I felt beautiful under his stare. Somehow, he’d found a way to reach inside of me, ignoring all the ugly for the rare parts I kept hidden, and held them in the palm of his hand like gold.

His fingertips traced over my nipples in the same tempo that he rocked into me, the light tickle trampled by his pinching and tugging.

I arched, adding just enough resistance to every tug to feel a twinge of pain, and had to curl my fingers around the chair as the two sensations collided inside of me.

“C’mon, baby, tell me what you want.”

Eyes still closed, I kept my head tipped back and smiled. “You. I want you.”

“You got me. And I got you. So tell me what happens next.”

“You fuck me.” I circled my hips, as he pumped slow and easy into me, creating a languorous sort of ecstasy, my nipples hard as he tugged them to a stand. “You fuck me so hard, I forget everything else.”

He slowed his pace, taunting me. Teasing. Tormenting as only Dax could, with that bastardly bit of metal at the tip of his cock that gifted him the power to send my body into a state of sexual paralysis, suspended somewhere between pleasure and sheer agony.

“And then what?”