Dax

Finding what turns Becca on and being rewarded by her shouts of “Yes!” isn’t a bad way to spend a Friday night.

I haven’t surfaced from between her legs yet. Not only because she tastes like a heady mixture heaven and sin, but also because I’d like to wring one more out of her.

She’s new to me, and chances are we’re only going to have this one night. I want her to remember this for a long, long while. Like when she’s gumming her food well into her eighties and whispering to her granddaughter about the stranger in Tennessee who took her to greater heights than any man ever had.

Hey, it’s my fantasy.

I swirl my tongue, speed up, slow down. I can tell she’s close by the way her back bows. I slide one finger along her seam before slipping it deep, and then she blows.

That’s the one I was looking for.

I gentle her out of the orgasm, easing my finger away and leaving a few light kisses in my wake. I pepper a few over her flat stomach and climb her body, pulling back the cups of her bra to deliver a wet kiss onto each nipple. Each of those earns me a shudder.

It’s like winning a gold medal.

“Found your pleasure,” I say against her mouth, curious if she’ll kiss me with the taste of her on my tongue. To my surprise she does, lifting her chin and pressing her mouth to mine—hard.

“Yes,” she whispers, and whispers, “Yes, yes,” again as she tries (and fails) to push me onto my back.

“Yes to what?” I know what she’s doing. I was adamant about getting a “yes” before I took her and now she wants more.

She reaches between our bodies, palms my dick, and strokes once. Twice.

Third time’s the charm.

“Tell me you have a condom or I’m going to cry so much I’ll flood the inside of this cabin, too.” She pushes her bottom lip into a cute pout and I kiss it.

“Don’t worry, Princess, I’ve got it covered.”

I packed condoms. I always have a few in the Jeep just in case too. I’ve always been a bit of a Boy Scout about that sort of thing because you never know. Or maybe I’m optimistic when it comes to getting laid.

I have to take the phone to see my way to my bag by the front door. I have the packet in hand and return to Becca in record time. Once there, I don’t put the phone down right away. Starting at her toes, I take inventory. Slowly.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she asks, but I hear a smile in her voice. See it too, when I jerk the light to her mouth.

“Having a look. Do you mind?”

She shakes her head. “Not at all. Just warn me first.”

She bends her body, striking a pose that would make any professional voguer proud. I move the light to her toes again. Watch painted red nails stroke the side of her other foot. The way she moves is like watching water lap the shore. Like I noticed at the bar, Becca knows how to use her body.

Her knees rub together as I inspect her long, long legs. Legs I had resting on my shoulders. Smooth, golden legs. Up to the V of her thighs. She moves her hands there now, but only to tease as she brushes her fingers over the thin line of hair. Now my path of light follows her fingers as they move up, up, up.

She reaches behind her back to unhook her bra, and when the cups sag, I swallow heavily. My dick jumps, eager. Another teasing smile finds her face and she slips the straps off her arms and tosses the garment to the side.

Oh, fuck me.

I stare, mesmerized by the sight of her delicate fingers circling perfect nipples. Becca’s breasts aren’t big, but they’re pert and she’s not the least bit shy about showing them off.

I don’t want to lose sight of her, so I take care to rest the phone on the lamp again before returning to cover one of her breasts with my fingers and the other with my mouth.

She gasps, undulating like a wave.

“Ready?” My voice is little more than a deep growl, and hers isn’t much more than a high-pitched sigh. but I heard the word she said on that sigh. A “yes” that floated out and nailed me dead center in the chest.

I make quick work of the condom.

“Head on the pillow, Princess.”

She obeys. I like that. I like the nickname for her too. I’ve never called any woman “Princess,” but it suits her. Becca moves like she’s royalty. There’s an elegance that cloaks her, even when she’s wearing jeans. Even touching her nipples and writhing on the bed for my own private flashlight show.

Propped over her, I brace my weight on my elbows and lay a kiss on her mouth before nudging her entrance. One roll of my hips and I’m sliding home—my breath hissing from between my teeth.

Heaven.

Her nails scrape down my back, thighs tightening around me. “Yes, Dax.”

Sweet Jesus, that’s nice to hear.

Another push and I’m seated deep. We each blow out a ragged breath and her giggle accompanies a compliment.

“That’s as big as the rest of you,” she says before she nips my earlobe.

“Getting bigger if you keep that up.”

She legitimately clears her throat and then my siren says, “I’ve never felt anything so huge in my life. Take me, Dax Vaughn. Take me hard and fast—”

I smother the rest of her words with my mouth as another giggle shakes her petite shoulders. I draw out as I take my lips from hers. I can just make out the curve of her smile fading as her eyelids dip.

I slide in slowly.

Out again just as slowly.

Back in. Out.

She’s no longer trying to be cute. She’s absorbing what I’m giving her and I’m giving it to her really good. For me, sex borders on sacred, and every reverent push and pull is done with the intent to make her come.

I’m reduced to the nerve endings concentrated at the head of my cock.

She bends her body as I stroke into her, her fingers playing along the back of my head where my hair is shaved short. When she rakes her nails through the longer strands at the top, a quake works its way down my spine.

There’s no talking after that. I move, watching her closely to make sure she’s enjoying herself. She lifts her eyes to mine. Even though half of her face is in shadow, we lock gazes as I work faster.

In the muted lighting her eyes are dark and fathomless.

Her mouth drops open when I go deep.

Found it.

I wrap one hand around her hip and tip her ass up, driving forward again. A sharp sound of pleasure escapes her dropped-open mouth. A charge of Hell, yeah shocks my system. I repeat the move, sliding out slowly, back in—deeper.

She clutches, squeezing every part of me tight with every part of her. I tumble down into the abyss with her. My release is louder, harder than hers, my mind blanking as thunder rumbles and the room vanishes behind my closed eyelids.

Sheer magical silence follows, blinding bliss erasing everything apart from now. I may have lost a minute—two—because the next sensation I’m aware of is Becca softly kissing my eyebrow.

Then she kisses my temple.

Her fingers dance over my shoulders as she kisses my cheekbone.

I turn my head and kiss her, still embedded deep. My tongue tangles with hers but there’s no urgency. Sated, satisfied, we take our time, no longer frantic to get to the good stuff. Now it’s all good stuff.

I’m as pleased with the limp smile on her lips as I am with the drowsy droop of her eyelids.

Then I pull out and we’re disconnected.

And damn if she doesn’t look as disappointed as I feel that it’s over.

Becca

W. O. W.

Wow.

I didn’t know that every part of my body could tingle simultaneously. It’s not like after I finish leading an hourlong Zumba class and stand catching my breath, my body soaked with sweat and my chest heaving. No, this tingle more resembles the best yoga buzz ever. I’m not soaked in sweat but damp from the rain—damp from, well . . . the . . . you know. The other thing.

I bite down on my bottom lip as I recall what it felt like to have Dax over me—inside of me. Totally dominating and demanding, but his domination was all about me enjoying myself. I could tell by the way he watched me carefully, his sandy-brown eyebrows drawn together in concentration.

He took the time to find the right spot to kiss me before. Sex with Dax was memorable—mainly because it was him giving me what I needed before he took what he needed.

And, oh, I made sure he took his release.

My grin emerges as a shadowy figure strolls in from the attached bathroom.

“Ow! Fuck!”

I bolt up, adrenaline dumping into my bloodstream at the shock of hearing him yell. I find Dax bent over, hand holding one foot, knee raised.

“Busted the shit out of my toe,” he grumbles.

I laugh. The idea of him hurting his toe when he looks like he could take a bullet is a humorous thought indeed.

“Oh, you think that’s funny?” he asks, his tone sliding into playful.

“Yes,” I answer as he returns to bed and slides close.

He kisses me long and lazily, which seems to be his signature. I like it way too much.

“That’s fair.” He rolls to his back and drops one arm over his forehead. “I can’t be mad at you about anything at the moment. Do your worst.”

“Ah, the power of sex.”

“Superpower.” His eyes sink closed like that’s the only word he can manage after his five-star performance.

Unlike my sleepy bedmate, I’m energized after that little workout. Satisfied, yes. Knees a little wobbly, check. But energized.

I watch Dax in the light from his cell phone until his breathing slows and he sinks into sleep. I wonder if he always sleeps this deeply or if the long drive, paired with the late night, is the reason for it.

There are a lot of things I’ll wonder but not get the answers to, because that’s the way one-nighters go. An evening of fun and then you walk away with only memories to keep you company. Though the unanswered questions about Dax might bother me more than I’d like—for longer than I’d like. I linger, propped on one arm, and watch him sleep. Unable to resist, I arrange his hair—which is almost dry. Admire the shadows cast on his cheeks by thick eyelashes. He doesn’t so much as flinch.

I slide out of bed, find a light blanket in the closet (there’s no moving him from on top of the comforter), and drape it over his body. I steal one more peek at his physical perfection before turning off Dax’s phone’s flashlight. I get dressed, shivering as I pull clammy, cold clothes over my sex-warmed body. If I was sure the dryer wouldn’t wake him, I’d totally toss these in and warm them up before I go. As it is, I’ll have to make do. He’s earned his sleep.

Out back I fire up the generator, earning pockets full of rainwater for my efforts. Inside I towel myself off. A nightlight in the bathroom and one in the main room provide enough light for me to find my bag and my phone, which dropped to the floor.

I smile remembering why I dropped it. Holding onto Dax was more fun than holding onto my phone.

A text from Tad sits on my phone’s screen reading simply: WHERE R U?

I knew he still cared.

I text back: Be home soon xo.

Then I dig my keys from the recesses of my bag and walk to the door. I hear Dax’s soft snore, and a stab of regret accompanies my thudding heart.

I feel kind of bad leaving. I tell myself that he’s tired and things can only get awkward come morning. I further console myself with the fact that I work here, and he knows where to find me.

A surge of want thrums in my chest. I push it down.

“It was just one night, Bec,” I whisper to myself. It’s rare for anything to last forever—even really good things.

Especially really good things.

It’s a night I’ll treasure for a long, long time.