Page 76 of Ballistic

* * *

There was something deeply erotic about watching Dax in the throes of sex. I felt as if I’d been transported back to the days of Greek gods, ascended into the heavens, as he stared down at me, eyes focused, brow slick with sweat, face rouged in pleasure. No one had ever looked at me so intently during the act before—perhaps because it’d been easier to violate me that way. Small and cramped, the backseat offered little room for his massive body, hunched over me like a steel cage.

The windows had long since steamed, and the car rocked with every punishing drive of his hips. His muscles contracted and stretched beneath my palms, as I slid them across his back. Slicked by my wetness, his piercing skated over my slippery walls with each withdrawal, and damn near hit my womb with every plunge, always nailing that elusive bundle of nerves with just the right pressure.

Slowing his thrusts, the piercing massaged the sensitive spot, hitting the button that had me arching into him on a warm rush of blood. I’d already climaxed once and was working myself up to round two. It had little to do with the metal itself, and more to do with Dax simply knowing how to use it. The piercing created the right amount of force, but Dax brought the magic in the way he moved and circled his hips. Smooth and controlled, like that of a male stripper.

Exhausted and out of breath, I reached up to drag my finger down his temple, gathering the sweat from his skin. The veins in his neck pulsed. His jaw clenched, and I braced myself, clutching the handle of the back passenger door.

My mother would’ve called us sin in the flesh. She would’ve said we were dirty and depraved, immoral, and inevitably bound for hell.

As needy as I’d become, I’d almost believe her.

Dax was gentle at times, and rough when I needed him to be, nothing of which felt evil, or wrong. I knew evil. I’d felt it before.

No, Dax and I were beautiful together—a messy painting, thrown against a canvas, that somehow came together in perfect balance. Both of us an intersecting dichotomy of good and bad, strong and weak.

The knot building at my core wound tighter, tugging at my thigh muscles, as I inched closer and closer to the edge. His grunts and heavy breaths punctuated each drive of his hips.

Fucking me into a stupor.

I smashed my breasts into his chest, and my eyes rolled back, as the orgasm exploded up my spine into a warm burst that spread to every muscle in my body.

“Fuck!” Dax cried out, still pumping inside of me, his fingers curled tight through my damp hair.

I’d never had a lover before, never one who connected on a level that transcended me the way Dax had. I smiled as we climaxed together, our bodies trembling, mine both warm and cold with the exertion. My heartrate slowed, muscles sagged, and I basked in the aftershock of pleasure.

He rested his sticky forehead against my equally clammy neck and breathed, his wide back expanding between my palms clutched at either side of him.

As the two of us drifted back down to earth, Dax lifted his head to peer out the window.

“He’s still there?” I asked between heaving breaths.

“Still there.”

“We killed about an hour, at least. One down three to go.”

He snorted and leaned in to kiss me. “Maybe once the windows defog, we can burn off another hour.”

* * *

I laid my cards down onto the console between us, and smiled when Dax sank down into his seat. “Straight flush.”

“You have a photographic memory. Pretty sure you cheated somewhere.”

“Don’t be mad, baby. Pay up,” I held out my palm, flicking my fingers until he set a cigarette there.

“Where’d you learn to play like that?”

“One of Dmitry’s guards, Aleksey.” I shoved the cigarette behind my ear, next to the one I’d won in the last round, my thoughts turning somber. Scratching the back of my head, I searched for distraction in a bid to keep my memories from pulling me into the black abyss of imagining how brutal his death must’ve been. “Guy hated losing, so I learned to beat him. Quickly.”

Dax kicked his arm up onto the back of the seat and tipped his head, lip curved into a half smile. “You don’t back down easily, do you?”

“No,” I said, gathering up the cards into a stack. “I refuse to let someone win simply because they’re more intimidating.”

“How did you end up on the drugs? Seems like that would’ve compromised your objective with Tesarik.”

Gaze locked on shuffling the cards, I schooled my attention, to keep from looking troubled by his question. It was innocent enough, but the answer felt far more complicated. Or maybe I just had a hell of a time trying to explain it. “It’s a long story.”