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An intensity blazed in his eyes. “I won’t let you go again.”
I smiled. “Good. Because I won’t let you go either.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Reaching back, I planted a hand on the headboard and started to ride Dax’s pumping tongue. But then he withdrew it with a slow swirl and went back to licking at my slit. I moaned in exasperation, an edgy need buzzing through my veins like bubbling champagne.
I’d woken to the feel of him lowering his body over mine, settling his rock hard cock against my pussy. There was nothing new about that—he liked to take me off-guard by pushing inside me as I was waking, and I liked to have him do it. But though Dax might be a fan of morning quickies, it turned out that this didn’t extend to Christmas morning.
There’d been no fast, hard fuck—unlike last night, when I’d strolled out of the en suite bathroom all decked up in a red, Christmas themed baby-doll.
No, this morning, he was instead set on delivering his signature brand of sensual torture.
While making his way down my body to my pussy, his mouth did a lot of skimming, kissing, grazing, and sucking. More, his hands did lots of molding, stroking, rubbing, and squeezing.
Basically, he’d pressed, pushed, and flicked every sexual button I had.
The arm he’d then thrown over my hips now held me down as he feasted. His gentleness ebbed and flowed, just like the rougher edge to his touches. But … there was a littletoomuch gentleness.
Each flick of his tongue was a featherlight tease. Every nip of his tongue barely even stung. Each dip of his finger in my pussy was too shallow to do more than frustrate the holy hell out of me.
And he knew it.
So now I was the living, breathing manifestation of desperation and every part of me felt over-sensitized—my brain, my skin, my senses, my core.
I was done.Done.I couldn’t take anymore.
Weaving my fingers into his hair, I tugged in demand. “In me.” With a hiss, I jumped as teeth sank into my inner thigh in a punishing bite.
His gaze slammed on mine, stamped with male possession, as his tongue coasted over the tingling mark. “Not yet.”
I stubbornly pulled on the soft strands again. “Fuck me.”
Dax pinned me with a hard look. “No, I’m not stopping until you’ve come in my mouth,” he said, his voice coated in raw sexual power—a vocal enthrallment that riveted me every time. “Be good and take it, or this’ll go a lot slower.”
I eased my hold on his hair. “At least take things up a notch.”
“Not until you’re about to come.”
“Why?” I wasn’t proud of how whiny that sounded.
His tongue lashed my clit. “Because the wait will make you blow even harder. So behave like I told you.”
He resumed torturing me with soft licks, nips, and shallow pulses of his tongue. Later, I would appreciate the way he gave and gave, expecting nothing in return; the way he was so invested in ensuring I came harder than ever. But right now—while the slow-building, simmering tension in my belly relentlessly slithered and contracted—I just wanted to hit him.
In between swipes and stabs of that glorious tongue, murmured words of praise would fan over my superheated flesh, adding to the sensations. Again and again, I asked him to fuck me already. Again and again, he ignored me.
Instead, he kept on devastating my pussy while it squeezed and spasmed around either thin air or the tip of his tongue.Ugh.
God, at this point, my senses werewired.More, my skin was far too hot and my mind felt muddied by the chemical assault it had undergone.
I started to float, to drift, to sink into another mental place. But then I felt it happening; felt the tension build a little more, felt my release hover somewhere close.
I chased it, bucking into his mouth and letting out moan after moan. The orgasm crept closer and closer, but it was still too far away. I tightened my grip on his hair and clawed at the bedsheet, my every breath sounding raw and ragged.
“Time to let go,” Dax whispered, assertiveness embedded in each murmured word. “Come on, you can do it.”
My release edged even closer, causing my inner walls to superheat. Every muscle, inside and out, tightened. Slackened. Trembled. Clenched. The first wave began to reach toward its peak—
