“Dax, please,” I manage to gasp.
“You want it harder?”
How does he know that? It’s like he’s reading my mind, which scares the hell out of me and thrills me all at once. “Yes,” I whisper, and Dax obliges, turning my whisper into another groan of pleasure.
There’s an audible clap of flesh against flesh, and I claw at the edge of the sink. His hips smack my ass again and again, the sound bouncing off all the porcelain. Years ago, I had one of those Clapper things to turn off my bedside lamp, and I think of how the goddamn lights would be flashing like a strobe right now.
“What’s making you giggle?” Dax growls. It’s not a mad growl, though, and he smiles as I meet his eyes in the mirror.
“This,” I gasp as he slams into me again. “You. All of it—I just?—”
I stop myself there, too giddy to trust myself with words. My brain has switched off, overpowered by lust and pleasure and whatever voodoo magic Dax is working right now.
I giggle at the thought of Dax fucking me in a magician’s cape, earning another snort from him.
“You’re lucky I have a healthy self-esteem,” he says. “Otherwise, I might wonder why you keep laughing.”
“I can’t turn my brain off,” I admit. “I keep having silly thoughts, but ohmygod—” I suck in a breath as he drives in deep and hits something really good. “Don’t stop!” I squeak out.
He grins at me in the mirror. “Let’s see if we can’t shut off your brain, hmm?”
He drives in hard again, gripping my hips, and I wonder if I’ll have bruises tomorrow. I hope I will. I want physical proof of the best sex I’ve ever had in my life.
“I want you to come for me, baby,” Dax murmurs. “You think you can do that?”
I nod, even though I’m doubtful. The man knows female anatomy, clearly, so he must know that in this position, the friction isn’t happening in quite the right spot.
“Touch yourself,” he murmurs.
I blink at him in the mirror. “What?”
“You heard me.” Dax drives into me again. “Rub your clit, just like you would if you were alone in bed thinking of me fucking you like this.”
I swallow hard, turned on by the words even as they terrify me. Sure, I’ve touched myself plenty when I’m alone. I’ve even had boyfriends stroke me there when the situation called for it. But touching myself in front of someone else?
Remember The Test…
“Um.” I’m still unsure.
“Here.” Dax grabs my hand, dragging it up to his mouth. Sucking three fingers between his lips, he bathes them gently with his tongue. Releasing me softly, he presses my hand to the junction of my thighs. “Now it’s nice and slippery for you, sweetheart. I want you to rub that clit like the good girl I know you can be.”
Holy shit.
I gasp as my fingertips trace that tight little bud. The effect is electric. A guttural groan slips out of me as my index and middle finger glide slick over the sensitive bud. Missiles of pleasure launch through me, and I buck against Dax.
Watching my face, he pounds into me harder. “That’s it,” he urges. “God, you look hot touching that tight little pussy.”
“Oh!” I cry out, closing my eyes to absorb the pleasure.
Holy hell, this feels amazing.
“That’s it, baby,” he urges. “Open your eyes and watch yourself.”
I do as he says and see myself with tousled hair, bee-stung lips, and a hulking, sexy-as-hell tattooed god pounding me from behind.
Who is that woman in the mirror?
My face is scant inches from the glass, fogging it with sharp breaths of pleasure. I look blissed out. I look sexy. I look like a woman who’s about to come her brains out.
