This Spells Love(83)
“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—”
He doesn’t finish his sentence. His hands, however, find my hips and squeeze, and I interpret his body language perfectly. I want more. I want you. Make me come.
I pick up my rhythm, dropping my hands to either side so I can angle my body forward and enjoy the added sensation of my clit rubbing against his pubic bone. I close my eyes and get lost for a moment in the delicious friction of grinding against him.
“I’m gonna need to stop watching you or else this will be over before I want it to.” The husky tone of Dax’s voice is another added layer to the thousands of pleasure points firing through my body.
“I thought we were trying to be quick?”
“Not that quick.” He runs his left hand through my hair, then tugs me forward for another kiss. His other thumb finds my clit, and he circles it with the perfect amount of pressure as I continue my rock forward and back.
“You’re going to make me come,” I tell him. His only response is a low groan.
Our kissing gets wetter, messier, and more urgent. We both have the same finish line in mind, ecstasy in the form of a climax, ideally before it’s too late.
I can feel it coming. My body is there, ready to fall, arms open, waiting to be pushed over the edge. But my mind is hesitating, wanting to cling to every single moment I have with him. Wanting to memorize every curve, every grunt, every moment in case this is the last time—
“Fuck, Gems, I want to do this forever, but…”
Dax lifts my hips, giving him the room to meet me with a quick, hard thrust. It’s what I need to get out of my head. My body takes over as he thrusts deep into me with one last moan followed by a “Fuck, I’m coming.”
I barely hear him. Because I’m there too. We fall together.
When my heart stops beating like a wildfire, I collapse beside him on the bed. He strokes my back as his lips plant a small kiss on my temple. The only sound in the basement is our heavy breathing until there’s a creak above and the sound of footsteps on the stairs.
“Who’s up for a little English breakfast?”
Chapter 26
“What do you think? Too tight? Or not tight enough?”
Dax draws back the curtain of the tiny changing room in the back of our local thrift store One More Time and stands in a pair of what I would describe as light-gray skinny jeans that leave nothing to the imagination—not that I need to imagine him anymore. However, I feel a bit of possessiveness over that above-average penis, as I’m sleeping with it regularly now. I have half a mind to beat my chest and grunt a primal mine at the cashier who can’t keep her eyes off the beer-can-shaped bulge protruding from Dax’s right leg.
“I’d go a size up there, big boy.”
With my eyes now on his dick, Dax does one final turn in the mirror, then retreats to his dressing room, muttering “on to bigger and better,” a fitting mantra and one I’ve used a lot this week as Dax has adjusted to his new digs and new life.
It’s been a week, to put it kindly. As expected, things did not go well with Dax’s insurance. His account is in arrears. There’s not much he can fight them on, even if he could afford a lawyer. The power scales are tipped in the wrong direction.
Dax is also struggling with his new living situation.
Dougie and Brandon are welcoming and supportive. They’re just both really set in their ways. Brandon likes to do his virtual CrossFit every morning at five-thirty. Normally, he does it in the basement, but he happily moved to the living room to accommodate Dax. However, that means Brandon’s doing burpees above Dax’s bed. It’s like waking up to a violent thunderstorm every morning. But Dax feels terrible about sleeping in Brandon’s usual burpee space, so he feels like he can’t complain.
Then there’s Brandon’s regular bacon craving and Dougie’s continual memory lapses and failure to stick to the secret knock when he’s on a mission for the freezer. We’ve started to have sex with shirts on just in case Brandon gets hungry because we only have twelve thumps on the staircase before Dougie’s head appears, asking us if we’re hungry.
This shopping trip was an attempt to get Dax out of the house. We need costumes for tomorrow night’s party. Dax needs something to take his mind off the fact that he has to go in for his orientation session in the morning to start training on Monday.
“I think I found the winner. How sexy am I in these?”
He draws back the curtain. If the last pair of pants were tight, these are painted on. They look like leggings. Dove gray, and I enjoy how they cling to every muscle and curve of his body.