Page 73

“That’s right. Let go. Just let go,” he rasps against my neck.

My hips grind against his hand while his fingers move faster. I feel the spasms building inside me, but he doesn’t slow down. Instead, he goes faster. I’m clenching his shoulders, my head against his chest, just as waves of pleasure rip through me. My world splinters apart.

But it’s not enough.

Something is missing in this equation.

The air around us is cool, yet Dax’s forehead is beaded in sweat. His hands have moved off me and are now resting on the rock wall behind me. The erratic rise and fall of his chest shows me the effort this cost him.

I want him to feel what I felt. That’s only fair. But also, I’m selfish. I ache to touch him, to taste him. There’s a bulge in his pants that tells me he wants the same.

My fingers find the button of his khaki shorts. I slip the button through the hole, but that’s as far as I get before Dax’s voice stops me.

“This is probably not a good idea, Jess,” he says gruffly.

He leans his forehead against mine, his eyes closed. His hands are still on either side of my head, pressed up against the wall.

“Why?”

“Why? Because I’m barely holding myself together right now. If you touch me, I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

The zipper makes a whisper of a sound as I move it down.

“Tell me no, and I’ll stop,” I whisper.

My fingers slip into the opening I’ve created, but the boxers are there and in the way. I huff out a frustrated sigh to be temporarily thwarted. My fingers reach into the waistband of his boxers, but Dax’s hand stops me.

“I don’t know if I can handle your hands on me,” he says sternly.

“Babe.” I purposely use the endearment he uses on me. I run my hands up his shirt and onto his chest. “It’s not my hands you need to worry about.”

“Fuck,” he breathes out.

I feel his heart jump. He’s frozen, his eyes on mine. For the first time ever, he seems at a loss for words, and I feel a rush of pleasure as I realize the temporary power I hold over him. I feel a boldness, a fearlessness, that I’m not used to experiencing. It feeds the hunger inside me.

I slide my hands down his torso. I take my time, massaging and exploring as I go. He’s still immobile except for the muscles that contract and flex against my fingers.

When my fingers reach the band of his boxers again, I hear his quick indrawn breath as I push the material down. His cock springs out and into my waiting hand.

He’s so warm, so hard.

My hand slides down his hard length and then back up again.

“I want to taste you, Dax. I want my mouth around you.”

He groans aloud. “I want that, too. More than you know. But, what if someone could see you? We’re on the beach. Anyone could come walking down here.”

I stroke him again.

“You weren’t worried about that when you had your mouth all over me.”

“Because my body was blocking you. I wouldn’t have let anyone see you.” He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, then looks at me again. I almost laugh out loud at the hint of desperation I see in his eyes. “Do you know how badly you’re torturing me right now?”

I sink down onto my knees in front of him.

“Torture? I haven’t even started.”

His answering groan is all I need to hear.