Dax Page 6

  “Dax,” Regan screams as her hips lift all the way off the bed, her legs slamming into the side of my head, ringing my bell good. I slip a finger inside of her, feeling the sucking, pulsing tremors of her orgasm, which causes my lips to curl into a wicked smile.

  Lifting my head, I gaze up her body. She’s not staring at me but rather the ceiling. She’s huffing, her nipples budded tight, and God… I need to fuck her.

  I take the opportunity while she’s wrecked to start disrobing. Shoes, socks, belt. Her head lifts from the bed as she watches me fumble at the buttons to my shirt, lifting it and my t-shirt underneath off in one fell swoop. Regan lifts her torso slightly, shrugging out of her shirt and bra as I scramble out of my pants and boxers. The entire time, we just watch each other, my tongue still tingling with the taste of her.

  It’s necessary to turn away from her, but only for a moment as I stride into my bathroom to grab a condom from my linen closet. I know a lot of dudes who keep them in the bedside table, but I don’t bring women to my place. Not since that batshit crazy Nanette Pearson decided to sue me after we fucked.

  I snag a condom, start for the bedroom, but then pause and turn back.

  I grab another.

  When I make it to the bedroom, I find Regan has gotten busy with the comforter and sheets, pulling them all down to expose a perfectly blank canvas of white cotton, her naked body stretched languidly out.

  Fuck… but she is utterly perfect.

  As I make my way toward her, fisting foiled condom packets, her gaze travels boldly down my body to focus on my erection. It’s so hard it’s standing straight up. My balls feel overly heavy, and I think I’m so turned on with need for her it’s going to hurt a little when I come.

  That’s okay, though. I have a feeling deep in my gut this is going to feel better than anything I’ve ever experienced before.

  I crawl onto the bed, straight up her body where her legs spread in invitation. I bring my mouth to hers, knowing she’s fully tasting the orgasm she just had on my tongue. She groans and returns my kiss roughly, hands going to my hips to urge me to her.

  Pushing a condom into her hand as I rise to my knees, I say, “Put it on me.”

  Regan scoots up, leaning against my pillows and headboard. Inching forward, I wrap my hand around my cock, bringing it closer. Within moments, she has the rubber out of the package and lined up over the fat head. The first touch of her fingers on me causes my balls to pull inward.

  I dig my teeth down into my lower lip, causing pain to get more in control of myself. She rolls the sheath over my length, letting her fingers stray down the length and flutter over my balls before she scoots into a prone position.

  I follow suit, coming down on top of her. My cock knows the way, instinctually pressing right to her core. Regan’s legs spread, raise, and I start to slide in.

  Fuck, I’d been right…

  This is heaven.

  CHAPTER 8

  Regan

  Dax is long and thick. He stretches me to a fullness I didn’t think was possible. Granted, I don’t have a ton of experience at this and what he did with his mouth was an incredible first for me, but when I say he fills me… I’m not just talking physically.

  There is some sort of connection between us that seems… almost ancient. Like maybe it existed before we were ever created.

  Or is that the romantic in me that refuses to die? Is it a futile hope from a girl who married a man she loves but not in the way a wife should love a husband, but perhaps sappily yearns it could turn into something more? Am I just being a foolish and naive girl instead of a woman who just had a man put his mouth between her legs and made her orgasm in like a nanosecond?

  I’d possibly continue to ponder these myths and fantasies if it weren’t for the fact Dax bottoms out in me, and I’m fully impaled by this large man. Completely at his mercy, my body a vessel for him to do with what he wants.

  And I want him to do anything and everything. I’m not stupid. If not for the bourbon, we would not be here right this moment.

  Dax lifts his hips, starting to slide free. I want to protest, but his mouth returns to mine and I swallow it back. The mechanics of sex comes back and before I can even yearn for his thickness, he’s pushing into me again.

  Stuffing me so very full.

  “Are you okay, Regan?” he murmurs against my lips, hips still moving leisurely against me.

  “More than.” My voice is soft and dreamy, and it causes Dax to lift his head.

  His eyes search mine as if something in my tone causes him to doubt my words.

  I merely smile at him languidly, curling a hand behind his neck to play with the ends of his hair. “It feels good, Dax.”

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” he replies gravely. “I mean… anything I need to be careful of given…”

  “The PNH?” I finish. “No, I’m fine. I promise. The treatment does the job.”

  Relief washes over Dax’s face, and he touches his forehead to mine briefly. “Okay… good. That’s good.”

  I bring my hands to his face, causing him to lift his head to give me his attention. “I’m not breakable.”

  “Understood,” he says. He rotates his hips, causing my eyes to practically cross. When I focus on him, he’s grinning at me wickedly. “Like that?”

  “More.”

  “I can do that,” he promises, then puts his mouth to mine once again.

  Dax starts to thrust in and out of me slowly. He kisses me with no greater pace, as if he has all the time in the world for us to make love. I’m immediately lost, swept away in the sensation of melding with someone.

  Yes, a complete combining.

  I realize with utter clarity I’ve not lost a romantic bone in my body with my sterile marriage. I’ve found something so unique and special I thank the bourbon gods for giving me the chance to experience this.

  “Mmm,” Dax groans as he presses deep into me. I gasp, pressure starting to build within me again.

  Again. Is it even possible this fast? I’ve never had a double. Not with a man anyway. Besides, like I said, those opportunities have been rare.

  I break the kiss. “Dax,” I moan as he goes even deeper. “I’m… I’m…”

  “What, Regan?” he whispers, his body somehow responding to the need in my voice and moving faster within me. “What do you need? Tell me, and I’ll give it to you.”

  My response comes in short, panting bursts. “Already. Giving. It.”

  “Are you going to come again?” he growls, and I nod furiously.

  “Fuck,” he growls, pushing up to his elbows. Dax puts a hand behind my thigh, raises that leg, and angles in deep. He does that over and over again, his hips pistoning faster. All the while he stares at me with hot eyes. I can’t look away even though it feels so good I think my own eyes are going to roll into the back of my head.

  The pressure builds and bubbles, straining to get free. I want it to let loose, but I’m slightly afraid I might get lost in it.

  “Touch yourself,” Dax orders through gritted teeth. There’s a vein standing out on his forehead, and it appears he might be in pain, but I can’t be sure.

  “What?” I gasp.

  He halts his movement, grinning in such a way that makes my belly flutter. His voice is low, rumbling. “Take your fingers, put them between your legs, and touch yourself while I fuck you.”

  Dax doesn’t wait for me to comply, but merely starts deeply thrusting again. Immediately, the pressure is building low in my belly.

  “Do it, Regan,” he orders, watching me like a hawk as I slide one hand slowly over my belly to where he wants me to go.

  I know exactly where to touch. That’s not a mystery, but I’ve never done it for a man. There’s no doubt he’s asking me to do this not only for myself, but also for him. He wants to watch me do this.

  When the pad of my index finger finds my clit, it’s not like anything I’ve ever felt before. The thickness of him moving just under it and the fricti
on I give from above causes bright lights to flash in my eyes. Dax starts pounding inside of me. All it takes is one soft swipe of my finger in a circular pattern around my sensitive flesh before I’m soaring.

  “Oh, God,” I cry, bucking hard against the orgasm that starts to shred me from the inside out.

  “Yes,” Dax growls triumphantly, planting himself deeply inside me. His body goes tight, then starts to tremble as his forehead once again drops to mine. Despite what feels like a violent rumble of release coursing through him, his voice is soft as velvet as he sighs, “Oh, Regan.”

  Settling his weight on me gently, Dax pulls me into him and rolls to his side. His hand goes to the back of my head, and he presses my face into the crook of his neck where we just lay quietly for a time.

  Even though the orgasm I just had was the most powerful I’ve ever head, I come down quickly, finding it incredibly easy to cuddle into his warmth. There’s a trust factor there I’ve never had the luxury of with anyone else, because I inherently know Dax would never hurt me. Even if he weren’t a cuddler, I am family to him. He’d never push me away for fear of hurting my feelings.

  Dax brushes his lips across my head before loosening his hold, pulling away from me slightly. I look up at him, glad to see no regret in his expression. He smiles, leaning to place a kiss on my forehead before saying, “Let me get cleaned up. You need anything?”

  I shake my head slowly, a smile playing at my own lips. I’m so well satisfied right now I’m not sure I need anything more in this world.

  Turning to my side, I shamelessly watch Dax as he moves from the bed to the master bath. He turns on the light, illuminating every glorious inch of him.

  He’s a tall man, but most hockey players are. What I didn’t know was how cut he was beneath his clothes or layers of hockey gear. Dax’s muscles bulge as he moves about the bathroom, removing the condom and running a warm cloth over his cock, ass rounded and paler than the rest of his tan skin. His body is an art form.

  Dax turns my way, catches me ogling, and gives me a sly wink. When he turns out the light, I force myself to keep my eyes on his face.

  He slides into bed, laying on his side to face me. His elbow goes to the mattress, his head to his hand to stare at me. I settle my head into a pillow, feeling a slight bit of shyness as I return his smile.

  “I should have asked you about the PNH before we started having sex,” he says, which catches me off guard. So not what I thought our post-sex talk would be.

  My eyebrows draw inward. “What?”

  “I should have made sure it was okay. That I couldn’t hurt you or something. For that, I’m sorry.”

  “But you’re not sorry we had sex, right?” I ask.

  Smirking, he taps me on the nose with a fingertip. “Stop changing the subject… what’s your ‘normal’ like now you’re receiving the Salvistis?”

  Dax has become educated about PNH. I was impressed what he’d learned from reading up on it before coming to my apartment, and we spent a lot of time talking about how dangerous the disease was before Salvistis came along. I had told him how I suffered horrific abdominal pain, headaches, and extreme lethargy. A mere touch could cause a massive bruise. Sometimes I’d be so fatigued and breathless because my red blood cells weren’t moving oxygen I couldn’t get out of bed. And I couldn’t think. It was like my brain wouldn’t work. Words wouldn’t come, and I’d feel lost and foggy all the time. The extreme dangers were of bleeding out or throwing a clot, and I had to depend on blood transfusions to keep me alive.

  Everything had been improved with the miracle of Salvistis, but it was not a cure. We never got into what it didn’t do for me.

  “Well, you’ve been around me for the last few days,” I say, letting him learn from his own experiences. “I’m pretty normal. I sometimes get hit with fatigue that comes out of nowhere.”

  “What does that feel like?” he asks.

  “Sometimes, I’ll wake up after a full night of sleep and won’t feel like I got even a minute. My eyes will be really heavy, and it will seem impossible to get out of bed. And I still have brain fog sometimes. You’ll eventually notice it. I might not be able to finish a sentence because the words will get lost. It’s like being under the influence of cold medicine or something. But that’s pretty much it.”

  “You’re doing it again,” he says, and I blink in confusion. “Minimizing things. Like it’s no big deal.”

  I shake my head. “I don’t think it’s not a big deal. I’m just so grateful I can lead a relatively normal life now. It’s nice to get up every morning and be able to go to work. Prior to the medication, I might be able to get up and go to work or I might be in the hospital getting a transfusion.”

  Dax shakes his head, his expression solemn. “You’re pretty incredible, Regan. And to think you handled so much of this on your own, living out in California while Lance was based in New York.”

  “He was there for me,” I say. “We still talked by phone every day and texted more than that. He was a great support, and, of course, I couldn’t have afforded the treatment. Even with his insurance, the out-of-pocket was way too rich for my blood.”

  “It’s still unbelievable to me,” he murmurs. “How something can be that far out of reach for so many people.”

  “There’s Medicaid insurance. Plus, the pharmaceutical company has private funds it awards to those in need. In fact, I applied to one of their programs right after Lance died and I realized the insurance was gone. I still haven’t heard from them yet, but it takes time to get through the process I guess.”

  “It’s moot now,” Dax says. “It can go to someone else who needs it since you’ll have my insurance. Speaking of which, you should be getting your new card in soon. I had you added yesterday.”

  “Awesome. I’ve got my new request for the Salvistis into my case manager. Since you have a different insurance than what I was on, we have to go through the entire approval process. Hopefully, she’ll be able to push it through before my next treatment.”

  Dax’s eyes turn dark with worry. “And when is that?”

  “I’m due for a transfusion middle of next week,” I reply.

  “How long does it take?”

  “About thirty minutes,” I say. “A nurse will come right here to the house to give it to me.”

  “Do you need me here?”

  “Not at all,” I assure him.

  “Well, the good thing is if you’re tired, you just stay in bed. You don’t have to worry about going to work and—”

  “I intend to get a job, Dax.”

  “But you don’t need to.”

  “But I want to.”

  “It’s not—”

  My fingertips go to his lips, quieting him effectively. “If I’m well enough to do what you and I just did, I’m pretty sure I’m okay enough to work.”

  I expect Dax to argue because he likes to be right. An annoying little habit I’m sure is going to cause a fight before too long, but to my surprise, he merely pulls me into his arms and settles down into the pillows.

  “Fine,” he eventually says as I lay my head on his chest. “But just know… there isn’t anything you’ll want for while you’re here with me. I’ll take care of you just the way Lance would have wanted me to.”

  It’s nice to welcome the comfort of those words. For the first time since Lance died, I felt incredibly secure. And I love Dax all the more for it.

  CHAPTER 9

  Dax

  I know I should get out of bed since I usually meet Legend, Bishop, and Erik at the arena gym for a workout before our team meeting and practice. At least, that’s what I normally do on non-game days.

  But my alarm went off almost half an hour ago, and I’ve been pretty much just laying here with Regan’s naked body curled into mine. She’s softly snoring and it’s adorable. For the first time since the season started, I’m choosing not to workout, putting something else above my priority to hockey. I’d considered waking Regan up with my hand betwee
n her legs, but I had second thoughts. I have no clue what types of regrets I’m going to be faced with this morning, and I’d rather figure that out first. So I dozed on and off again, contemplating whether I’m regretful for my actions last night.

  I was by no means drunk after having three pretty quick bourbons while we talked. Yes, I was buzzed, but I’d still known right from wrong. I had the power within my own reasoning to stop what we were doing, but fuck… I hadn’t wanted to.

  In fact, I can’t remember ever wanting anything as bad, so, selfishly, I took.

  The covers and sheets are kicked to the bottom of the bed. More than a time or two since the sun started filtering in, I’ve studied Regan’s nude form laying against me. Her upper body is across mine, her breasts mashed softly into my chest. I worry about whether it bothers the port in her chest, but she sleeps on soundly. She has one leg in between mine where my soft dick is pressed up against the silkiness of her skin with the other stretched across the mattress. One arm is curled around her head with her fingertips floating right at the side of my neck. I’ve got one arm wrapped around her with my palm flat against her beautiful ass. Her breath fans across the top of my chest. I’ve been in this position a few hours, and I could go a few hours more. She’s like a soothing blanket over my body, which I have no desire to remove any time soon.

  I think this means I have zero fucking regrets.

  Now the question is… does she?

  My phone vibrates on my nightstand, and I reach a long arm out to nab it. It’s Legend. He’s probably wondering where the hell I am. I tap the button that will send it straight to voice mail, then set it on the bed beside me. I don’t feel like entering the real world just yet. I’ve still got a beautiful, naked woman in my arms—whom I’m married to and fucked last night. I would like to keep fucking her, but I don’t know if that’s possible.

  Or even ethical at this point.

  Vibrations from my phone ringing again tickle against my thigh. When I realize it’s Legend calling again, I know it must be something important for him to call right back. A freezing chill sneaks up my spine as my thoughts immediately turn dark, wondering if Tacker has done something to himself.