This Spells Love(55)
For a moment, I’m convinced it’s going to work. If Dax rubbed me like that and whispered those sweet words, I’d be turned on in an instant. But nothing happens.
“Shit.” He leans his head against the leather steering wheel, squeezing his eyes shut.
“I always thought Toyota Avalons were immortal, but I guess everything has its breaking point.”
Dax doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t even smile. And I swear I hear him whisper, “This is the last thing I need right now.”
I reach up and squeeze his shoulder. It’s the same comforting gesture he gave to me the night of the grocery store rescue.
Dax rolls his head toward me, his temple still on the wheel. He reaches across the console, grabs my hand, and laces our fingers together.
“Any chance you have CAA?” I ask.
Dax lets out a long sigh. “I did until about a month ago when I let it lapse.” He lifts his head and reaches into his back pocket, pulling out a phone. “I’ll text Dougie. He’s got a guy who hopefully won’t hose me.”
Ten minutes and two phone calls later, we have a tow on its way to get us.
“Sorry again, Gemma, I really—”
“Hey.” I hold a finger playfully up to his lips. “Enough apologizing already. You can’t control the weather or when your car will die. And if you could, I would have a much bigger problem I would need your help to tackle. I wasn’t lying earlier when I said I was having fun. And I still am. I like hanging out with you.”
Dax brings his hand to my cheek, then brings his forehead to mine, so they’re touching. “Where on your list is making out in a car?”
I debate how honest I should be here. “Somewhere north of fifty, as cars were like eighty percent of my high school make-out experience. But I am still very much up for it if you’re offering.”
Dax leans in for another kiss, and because I expect it to be sweet like its predecessor, I’m happily surprised when his hand slides into my hair and his tongue parts my lips with an urgency that tells me he’s as eager as I am to pick things up from where we left them yesterday.
I kiss him back. Matching his intensity, then leveling up. He may want this, but I’ve been waiting far longer.
His hands move from the back of my head to my waist and pull me into his lap. They stroke my back, my hair, my neck as we kiss over and over. I can feel him growing hard beneath me, and all I want to do is reach my hand down and unbuckle his pants, but my back is jammed up against the steering wheel, which is making the logistics impossible.
“You’re thinking about something again,” Dax murmurs between kisses.
“I’m trying to figure out how I can take off your pants. Toyota Avalons were not made with make-outs in mind.”
“Don’t underestimate my baby. She’s got a few tricks left in her.” Dax reaches down, and there’s a loud crack as the seat springs back, taking both of us with it.
“That did not go as smoothly as it did in my head.”
“Maybe not, but now at least I can do this.” The added room allows me to wedge one knee in between Dax and the center console and swing the other over to straddle him.
We pick up exactly where we left off with the feverish kissing, but this position allows Dax the ability to run his hands up my bare legs, under my sundress, and to my ass, which he squeezes playfully.
“I thought the plan was to take off your pants.” I grind my hips into him, rubbing against the bulge in his jeans.
“That was your plan.” His finger hooks around the waistband of my thong. “I had a slightly different one.” He pulls back, eyebrows raised. “Yes?”
I’m not entirely clear what he’s proposing, but it doesn’t matter. “Yes.” I’m a yes to anything that involves my panties and his hands.
He slides his finger along the waistband, heading toward the space between my legs, but before it reaches anywhere interesting, it reverses, making its way back toward my ass. It makes a second trip, then a third, and I’m so turned on from the feel of his fingers on my skin that I’m practically vibrating before his hand makes one last trip to just below my hip bone, then follows the edge of my thong down, down, down until he reaches the spot where I’m aching.
His finger slides between my folds, and he starts to rub with the perfect amount of pressure.
“You are so wet.” His breath is hot on my neck, and his voice is so low and growly I swear it makes me even wetter. Then his whole hand slides inside my underwear. His thumb begins to circle my clit as his finger lingers at my entrance.
“Keep going?” he asks in that voice.
“Oh my god, yes,” I manage to get out while all my concentration is centered around how good his thumb feels and how badly I want to shift my hips and ride his hand. Instead, I wait as he slowly pushes in one finger and pumps it until it’s slick. He adds a second finger while his other thumb finds my nipple. I’m torn between two tantalizing sensations, both caused by Dax’s talented fingers. When he adds his mouth on my neck, it almost becomes too much. I’m lost in a haze. A sea of fingers and thumbs and tongues. All swirling and twirling in time. But then he nips at my collarbone, and although it’s just a playful bite, the slight sting to my skin drives me over the top. The sensation between my legs explodes like a confetti cannon, sending ripples of pleasure through my body. My mind slides into that well-orgasmed haze where everything is perfect, wonderful, and right. And I stay there, all happy and floaty, until I see the lights of nirvana in the distance.