Strike (Sphere of Irony 2)

That’s how I ended up in Dax’s flat, lying on his bed, with his heavy body pressing me down to the mattress, snogging like there’s no tomorrow.

“So gorgeous,” Dax whispers, his large, rough hands sliding up and down my bare arms. My skin is so sensitive I can feel every single callous that has formed on his fingers from years of playing guitar and using his fists to earn money as they scrape over my exposed flesh.

Dax props himself up on his elbows so he can see right into my eyes—and I swear, right through me. I swallow loudly, my heart thrumming in my chest. Can he tell that I’m in love with him? That I’ve been in love with him for as long as I can remember? That I can see past that intimidating exterior he puts up to the man he really is?

Instead of voicing out loud whatever thoughts lie behind those expressive dark eyes, Dax lowers his head and kisses me—gently at first—light, barely there brushes of his lips on mine. It’s enough to make my breath hitch with each pass of his mouth. He teases me like that for what feels like forever, minutes, hours… time seems to have stopped, everything collapsing in to focus on this one act.

Dax takes his time exploring me, his slow pace, his soft touches, the noises that we make growing louder and louder—it stokes a low burn inside that begs to be set free. I need more.

My body moves on instinct, attempting to get what it needs without my permission. I don’t realize that my hips have arched off the bed, seeking contact with Dax’s rigid length until I rub against his hard, denim-clad cock. He stops what he’s doing immediately, but not before letting out a long, deep moan. The smoldering desire between us explodes into an inferno, turning us into panting, groaning animals in the blink of an eye.

Passion unlike any I’ve ever thought possible races through me unchecked. The scorching hot flames are burning my skin from the inside out, setting me on fire and boiling the blood in my veins. Unable to control his own reactions as I wantonly grind my hips against his, Dax shudders, giving in to his need for friction by dropping his weight down onto me for full body contact.

“Jesus, Kate.” His voice is strained, his eyes wild. Dax’s precious control is hanging on by a thread—one that I’m int

ent on unraveling.

I wrap my hands around his neck and yank him down for a deep, lingering kiss. My legs find their way around his waist, holding him close as we rock against each other, intense sensations jolting through me with each thrust of his hips.

Our mouths crash together again and again, sloppy, wet, and unbelievably perfect. Dax’s tongue thrusts into my mouth, dominating mine. He tastes perfect. Like strength and security, with a bit of the chocolate trifle we shared for dessert. Needing more, I shove my hands up the back of his shirt, running them over smooth, hot skin wrapped over hard muscle.

Breaking the kiss with a ragged inhale, Dax slows down his rocking hips. “We shouldn’t—I can’t stop if we keep going, Kate.”

My kind, gentle brute, concerned about taking advantage of me even when I all but attacked him. “Why do we have to stop?”

His eyes widen a fraction, the brown just a sliver behind his lust-blown pupils. “I-I…” Dax grinds his jaw, jealousy flashing across his face. “I thought you never…I didn’t want your first… I guess I thought…fuck.” He squeezes his eyes shut. “The thought of someone else touching you…”

“You thought this was my first time,” I whisper, dragging a finger down his cheek. He’s jealous. Holy crap, Dax is jealous at the thought of me being with someone else. The Iceman let his feelings be known! I nearly laugh out loud at his pointless jealousy, but hold back when I realize he’s not using it as an excuse to behave like an unreasonable caveman. For a man like Dax, jealousy means he cares.

“Dax.” He shakes his head and keeps his eyes shut tight, refusing to meet my stare or listen to my words. “Dax.” I grab his head with both hands, pulling it down until our lips almost touch. “This is my first time.”

That did it. His eyelids pop open, those damn dark irises of his showing me more than he’d ever want me to know—lust, protectiveness, concern, caring, power—all of his emotions exposed and available for me to read as if they were written out on his forehead.

“I want my first time with you, Dax. It’s always been you.”

Now we’re even. My emotions are out there too, open and vulnerable for him to abuse should he desire. I don’t mind. Against my better judgment, I trust Dax with my heart. I have no choice but to trust him.

I love him.

Dax gives me a slight nod of his head, a silent understanding passing between us, and his face relaxes from its hard set. We both understand the importance of this moment isn’t to be taken lightly, me giving this to him.

Without looking away, he shuffles back, kneeling on the bed between my legs. Dax snags the hem of his shirt, whipping it off and tossing it somewhere on the floor. The sight in front of me—god, there are no words. I’m rendered immobile as my eyes greedily take in every single inch of Dax’s torso. Each muscle is cut and defined, rippling under smooth, light skin, broken only by the occasional small scar. The long, perfect ‘v’ on his waist that leads down into his low-slung jeans makes my mouth water.

Hesitantly, I raise a hand between us, wanting to touch him more than anything. I get to touch this? Touch him? Wherever I want? Don’t pinch me. I don’t ever want to wake up.

“Wait.” Dax grabs my hand before I get a single finger on him, drawing out a pathetic whimper. He grins, “If I have to be shirtless...” Releasing my hand, he unbuttons my short-sleeved blouse faster than I would have thought his large fingers could manage. Dax pushes the silky material off my shoulders, exposing my blush-colored lace bra. He groans and squeezes his crotch, seemingly in pain.

“Jesus, Kate. California has been good to you. Your skin is so tan.” Dax drags his huge, coarse hand down the center of my body from my collarbones to the edge of my shorts. It’s so large he could probably span my waist with his hands and have room to spare. I shiver even though his touch leaves behind the heated ghost of a burn.

My body is becoming impatient. The need to touch him is overwhelming. “Get back down here.”

Did I say that? When did I become so demanding? Probably when Dax got me all wound up then stopped.

The shocked look on his face is almost worth the near-crippling embarrassment I feel at being so bold. The corner of his mouth quirks up, his eyes devouring me without shame. “Oh baby, we’re going to have so much fun, but you need to understand that the only one who gives orders around here is me.”

Holy shit.

Dax