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He doesn’t move toward me. Instead, he teeters on his toes as if he isn’t entirely sure how this will go.
This is a big deal. A huge deal. Dax dated his last girlfriend for almost four months, and he never once uttered those perfect three words.
He loves me. And although I’ve suspected? Hoped? Sent intentions out into the universe that he hopefully feels the same overwhelming emotion that’s overtaken any rational thought these last few weeks? It still feels wonderful to hear it out loud.
“I love you too, Daxon B. I have for a long time.”
My confession is enough for Dax to take a step forward, although his arms stay glued to his sides. “You still gonna feel that way when I’m an associate tax professional?”
“Uh, especially when you are an associate tax professional. Taxes are hot.”
He gives me a very unconvinced one eyebrow raise.
“I love men in practical chinos.”
“Gemma.”
“If you promise to do my taxes for me this year, I swear to god I’ll drop down on my knees right now and give you a blow job.”
“Gems.” His tone is all laughs, but I’ve said the magicb-word. Now his eyes are all heat and sex. His hands finally find their way back to my body, resting lightly on my hips, the pads of his thumbs finding the bare strip of skin between my T-shirt and jeans. He leans in and presses three light kisses on my neck. One by my collarbone, one just below my jaw, and the last one just south of my ear. Then he runs his tongue to my earlobe and nips playfully. “We have seven more months until tax season.”
It’s all the invitation I need. We’re in a sex cave, and I’m craving the feel of his body. My fingers seek out the drawstring to his jogging pants. He flicks open the button of my jeans with a single hand. Undergarments follow in the same coordinated, frenzied motion. We’re bottom-half-naked in under a minute.
Efficiency.
I like it.
I think I’ll enjoy fucking Dax the tax associate.
I push him back, only realizing after the fact that his ribs are likely still tender. He falls onto the bed with a small grimace as he hits the mattress. But as I climb on top, carefully straddling his waist with my knees, his face melts into a slow smile as his hands slide up my thighs and slip beneath the hem of my T-shirt. The rough skin of his calloused palms is a stark contrast to the softness of his fingertips, which tickle as they travel up my rib cage, sending a ripple of pleasure up my spine.
I doubt I’ll ever get sick of him touching me like this. Or the way his smile widens when his thumbs brush the undersides of my breasts, or the way he looks at me, half-lidded and content, like he too could do this forever.
“Come here and kiss me already.” Dax pulls my head to his for a kiss that starts off all sweet and slow but quickly shifts to heated and hungry until it is momentarily halted by the sound of raised voices arguing in the kitchen above us.
“I have a feeling…” Dax whispers as his eyes lift to the ceiling, “that they’re debating whether they should invite us up for brunch, so…”
He gathers my shirt into his fist and pulls me down for another kiss. This one wastes no time. It is all tongue and want and efficiency.Messages received, Daxon McGuire.Time is of the essence.
He lifts my shirt up just enough to pull my bra downward and free my breasts. He takes my nipple into his mouth, which causes me to moan a little too loud, seeing as we’re trying for covert sex here. Maybe if Dougie knew the incredible sensations Dax was creating with the swirl of his tongue, he’d leave us alone for the next hour. Or maybe the rest of the afternoon.
I can no longer worry about Dougie or anything besides Dax’s talented mouth as it alternates between licking and sucking. Especially when the pad of his thumb seeks out my neglected breast, moving in teasing slow circles until both of my nipples are so hard they ache.
My hips start to move of their own volition, seeking out Dax’s hard erection, raised and ready between my knees. As I rock, his shaft slips between my folds. I get lost in the rhythm, enjoying the friction every time his dick brushes against my clit.
“Be careful, Gems.” Dax lifts his lips from my breast. “You’re so wet. It feels fucking incredible, but I haven’t put anything on.”
I reach between my knees and stroke him, loving the fact that he’s both long and thick. “Well, we should probably take care of that now, just in case I get too carried away.”
Dax lifts me off his hips and flips me onto the mattress beside him, then rolls off the bed, reaching for his abandoned joggers and the wallet in their back pocket. He returns with a foil packet already between his teeth, but I notice how his eyes hit the ceiling above us, and he pauses for a moment before they come back to focus on me and my half-naked body. “Aw, fuck it.” He tears thecondom open and sheds the wrapper on the floor before crawling back into bed and lifting me back into the same position on top of him that I was in before he left.
“Please continue.” He smiles as he lifts my shirt and turns his attention now to my other breast.
There’s another creaking overhead, and we both freeze. My Dax telepathy is absolutely sure that both of us are sending simultaneous prayers to the gods of brunch to create some sort of diversion upstairs to buy us some more time. When the cooking sounds resume, I abandon my plans to tease Dax slowly and instead position myself above his cock.
“I’m skipping straight to the main event,” I tell him as I lower myself, careful not to touch his ribs. He groans, but it’s one of pleasure. Despite my bold claim, I go slow, easing him in, inch by inch. I pause for a moment, letting my body adjust, enjoying the feeling of being stretched and full and happy before building into a slow rock, enjoying how even the slightest of movements feels so incredible.
“Fuck, Gems—”
