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“Fuck!” I gasp, and Dax makes an answering noise in his throat. His mouth closes over my nipple, and I remember this. I remember what his talented tongue can do to me just by teasing my breasts.
Like I did the night we played poker, I grab onto his head with both hands, securing him in place and arching into his touch to give him more of me. His tongue lashes and flicks and swirls around my nipple, and my clit aches and throbs and burns.
“You were the sweetest fucking thing I’d ever tasted, Low,” he whispers, releasing my nipple to stare up at me with eyes like blue-green fire. “You still are.”
I’m breathing like I just ran a fucking marathon, my hips bumping up against his again. I’ve lost track of the fact that we’re in a fucking garage on top of a car. Or maybe I just don’t care.
Dax feels me straining toward him, pressing my clit against the hard outline of his cock, and a wicked gleam lights in his eyes.
“You’re sweet everywhere.”
When he drops his head again, his tongue trails a wet line all the way down my stomach, and as he undoes my button and fly, his mouth follows, tasting every new bit of exposed skin. He drags my pants over my hips, yanking off my shoes before peeling my jeans over my feet. And then he’s kneeling in front of the car, staring up the line of my body at me as cold metal meets the back of my legs, calling up goose bumps all over my skin.
Large, calloused palms grip my thighs, and my muscles tense against him as he spreads my legs. It’s an instinctual reaction, a survival instinct. I want him to put his mouth on me so fucking bad, but I’m not sure I’ll be able to live through it when he does.
He left my panties on when he pulled off my pants, and I can feel the fabric sticking to me, my arousal saturating the thin material at my crotch.
Still keeping his firm hold on my legs, Dax leans in and drags his nose along the fabric of my panties.
Oh, fuck.
He’s smelling me again. And this time, I’m sure he’s not smelling my pomegranate body wash or my citrus shampoo. He’s smelling me. The musky scent of my arousal, the scent of what he’s doing to me. My whole body shudders, and I press my legs together harder, trapping him between them as I grow more and more certain that this will ruin me.
Dax and I have danced around each other the longest of all four of the kings. Just like Chase, he’s got a funny, easygoing demeanor. But there’s something else in him too. A depth, an intensity that flashes to the surface every once in a while.
For Chase, the lighthearted demeanor isn’t an act—it’s who he is to the core. Dax sometimes uses it as a mask, hiding deep, intense feelings under his casual exterior.
But he’s not hiding now.
I can feel his desire for me burning like an inferno under his skin, can see it making the muscles of his back ripple beneath his Henley as he latches onto my cloth-covered pussy and sucks. The already damp fabric is positively soaked now as he draws it into his mouth, finding my clit through the thin material and circling it with his tongue.
When he draws the small bud between his teeth, a jolt of sensation sears through me, too close to the line between pleasure and pain to say which one it is. I buck against the hood of his Mercedes, my palms slapping against the cold metal and sending a loud bang ricocheting around the large garage.
“Fuck! Dax!”
We’re being too loud. The garage door is closed, but it’s not locked. Someone could come out here and find us at any moment.
But Dax doesn’t seem to give one little shit about that. He releases my clit from between his teeth and yanks my panties off, then buries his face between my thighs and eats me out like his last fucking meal.
There’s nothing for me to grab onto—nothing to hold me steady as the sensations batter me like a piece of driftwood in a stormy sea.
My fingers scrabble for purchase on the slick hood of the car, skating over the bunched muscles of Dax’s shoulders and back before threading through his hair again, gripping so tight I’m sure it must hurt.
&nbs
p; But if it does, it’s a pain he likes.
Rough, deep noises resonate in his chest, and I like the sound of them so much that I pull on his hair harder, trying to draw more of those noises out of him, to make sure he never stops.
My pussy is clenching around nothing, and my entire lower half feels swollen, desperate to come. My hips are swirling and grinding against Dax’s face, but he seems to like that too. His hands move to grip my ass, lifting my lower body off the hood of the car as he eats from me, drinks from me.
I’m lightheaded, as if all the blood has left my brain, and sweet agony is building inside me—
When Dax stops.
His tongue halts its delicious assault, and he pulls back several inches. His lip are wet, and his eyes are dark as he drags his hands down over the curve of my ass, hooking me behind my knees and tugging my body toward him. My ass is practically hanging off the edge of the car, and my legs are shaking, my stomach clenching.
Dax wipes the back of his hand over his mouth and chin, which are embarrassingly wet—if I could find it in myself to be embarrassed about anything right now—and reaches for the button of his jeans.
