“Either. Both.”
“Open up to me.”
“A command or a request, Dax?”
“Both. Do you know what I’m thinking right now?” I shake my head,no. “I’m thinking you look delicious. I’m thinking I want to taste you, but I want you to tell me whatyouwant.”
“I want…I want you to taste.”
“Taste what?”
“Taste me.”
He pushes himself up so quickly; I press myself back into the headboard to avoid colliding with him, but he knows what he’s doing. He captures my lips in a fierce kiss. My upper lip pops from between his teeth before he dives in again. This time his tongue slips into my mouth. When he pulls away, I move with him, unwilling to end the kiss. He renders me breathless, but he remains cool and in control.
“Taste you there?” he asks.
I shake my head again. No. That isn’t what I meant, but I’ll readily accept another. He delves into the hollow at my throat, tugging my t-shirt down by the neckline to reveal more skin. His tongue presses firmly, wet, and hot into the hollow, tasting my skin and feeling my pulse thump against his mouth. After a languorous moment, with his lips latched and pulling every sensuous feeling up from the depths of my body to the edge of my skin, he licks upward and stops just under my chin. I hear a pathetic,“mmhhm,”escape my mouth. The sound isn’t enough to applaud his efforts.
“Taste you there, Jules?” he whispers against my chin.
“Hmmm. Yes.”
He chuckles. “Are you sure?”
Oh, he distracted me. I shake my head quickly. “More.”
“More? Here?” He strokes his thumb across my clavicle.
“No. More everywhere.” His hand curves over my body, above the shirt and sweeps down to the hem, it delves underneath and edges the T-shirt up. I don’t hesitate. I yank the cloth off and throw it off the bed. He laughs again at my exuberance but doesn’t stop playing his game.
“Here?” he asks, licking with a flat, broad tongue up the valley between my breasts.
“Yes.”
“Here?” This time his tongue circles my navel and slips in.
“Mmm…m...more,” I stutter. I think he could give me the world at this point, and I’d still beg for more.
“Or do you mean here?” His finger returns to play at my core, circling and then slipping lower to the place I really needed him to be. Eyebrow cocked, he watches me with combined lust and amusement. I don’t much care, as long as I feel his mouth on me.
Without having to answer, he obliges, sliding down the bed effortlessly. I lurch upward at the sensation of his mouth on me and then greedily push myself closer. He takes my desperation as his cue and feasts.
My fist grips his hair. I no longer know if he’s watching my reaction because my head arcs back and my eyes screw shut at the torturous pleasure. I want him to ease up and delve deeper all at once. I want him to stop and yet never quit. I want less and more. So much more.
I want to claim all of Dax’s skilled forbidden kisses.
He devours like a man starved. I cry out from the pleasure of his tongue.
“Oh shit. Dean!” I whimper. Don’t ask me why I call him by his real name rather than Dax. Perhaps it’s because I feel closer to him in this moment. Lovers.Intimate.
I want to reach him in the same way he’s found me; break through the barriers and facades, bare him as naked and honest as I feel in this moment.
Whatever my thinking, it’s a mistake.
Dax flies from the bed so fast, for a second, I think he’s been pulled from it. My eyes open, my head lifting to find the emergency in the room, but it’s empty other than us. Dax stares at me, eyes full of horror, and mouth agape.
“Why…why did you call me that?” he asks, but his voice is a whisper carrying a hint of fury. A hint of danger and wrongness.
