chapter 14

MY PLAN WAS TO DROP Dex off somewhere—his house, Michael's place, I didn't know—but before I could ask where to take him, he said he wanted to buy us dinner to celebrate. When I asked what he wanted to celebrate, he said, "You."

Now we're sitting on the floor in my living room, eating takeout from the vegan Chinese restaurant I love so much and drinking a six-pack of Sapporo.

I'm sitting cross-legged, a container of lo mein beside me and a bottle in my hand, and watching Dex eat vegan crab cheese wontons while leaning back against my couch is making me feel like I'm in some sort of alternate reality. Margot keeps walking alongside him, pressing herself against his arm and meowing for bites of food. He lets her lick a bit of the wonton filling off his finger, then laughs when she tries to swipe it out of his hand .

"Margot," I warn, acting like she ever listens to me, and she gives me a serious side-eye before strutting out of the living room. My gaze flicks to Dex. "Sorry, she's... demanding."

What I don't tell him is that Margot pretty much runs this place, and I'm mostly around to feed her, clean her box, and give her cuddles when she deems it appropriate—not like I'd have it any other way. She's the best friend I have.

"I like her," he says before lifting a bottle to his lips and finishing the rest of his beer. I watch his throat bob and wonder what it would be like to press my lips against the skin behind his ear.

The thought makes heat burn through me, and Dex must see something cross over my face, because his expression changes, becomes less playful and more... aggressive. He holds my gaze, making tingles start in my belly and work their way lower.

"Come here," he says, holding out a hand.

Those two words might as well be a spell, because they wrap around me, and I put my beer down without a second thought. The alcohol buzzing through my veins gives me courage, and I crawl toward him across the living room floor, holding his gaze, relishing the tick of muscle along his stubbled jaw.

When I'm within reach, he grabs ahold of me and pulls me into his lap, and I let out a gasp as he settles my weight on top of him. Now I'm straddling him, my legs on either side of his hips, his torso still leaned back against my couch.

I changed out of my concert attire when we got back, and now I'm wearing leggings and a baggy sweatshirt. When Dex slips his hand under the hem of my sweatshirt and his fingertips graze my bare skin, it sends my pulse hammering .

For a moment, he just stares up at me, and I stare back, feeling that same magnetic pull I felt in Velvet last night. He's like a tornado ripping through my town, and I'm standing in the eye of the storm, waiting for the cyclone to hit and sweep me away.

Slowly, Dex lifts one hand to cradle my face, and a moment later he's drawing me in, pressing his mouth to mine, letting me feel the metal of his lip ring against my warm skin. He tastes like Sapporo, and when my tongue darts out to lap the flavor from his lips, he hardens beneath me.

The storm finally makes landfall. And it doesn't care what it leaves in its wake.

Now my hands are in his hair, and his fingertips are digging into my hips. When he catches my bottom lip between his teeth, trapping my mouth against his, my panties get wet. I want to see him, to feel his skin, to trace the ink that adorns his body. So I reach for the hem of his tee like reaching for a portal into a forbidden world, and a small smile tugs at his lips as he breaks our kiss for just long enough to let me pull the shirt over his head.

I toss the white tee across the living room, then sit back to admire the tattoos ornamenting his skin. They're all in black and gray, not a hint of colored ink to be found, and Dex shivers as I reach out and trail my fingertips delicately across his chest. There's that tattoo that curls across his collarbone and up his neck, the one I saw yesterday. Now I can finally do what I wanted. Only this time, instead of tracing the ink with my fingers, I trace it with my mouth. My tongue drags across his skin. Tastes him. Savors him .

Beneath my lap, he throbs.

He reaches for my sweatshirt, and as he starts to pull it over my head and I feel the air hit my skin, I remember I'm not wearing a bra. For a moment, embarrassment seizes me, but then I'm bared before him.

His blue eyes take in the sight of me. I think to cover myself, to let my self-consciousness chase me right back into my sweatshirt. But then Dex traces one hand up my stomach, from my belly button to my sternum.

Abandoning my nerves, I soften beneath his fingertips.

His touch is fire, and I want to throw myself into the inferno.

He cups my breast, makes me catch my breath. The brush of his thumb across my nipple makes it harden. Then his mouth is on my skin, pressing kisses along both my breasts. His tongue flicks my nipple. I tip my head back and moan.

In one smooth motion, he wraps an arm around me and flips me onto my back so I'm lying on the plush living room rug. Then he's kissing me again, and I'm wrapping my legs around his waist, trying to trap him so he can never let go.

God, I never want him to let go.

A laugh rumbles in his chest, and then his lips brush the shell of my ear, sending a shiver through my body. "What do you want, Monster?" he murmurs, tracing hearts on the side of my neck with his thumb.

When whispered like that, the little nickname he gave me feels like a prophecy foretelling danger, promising pain and pleasure and everything in between. I want him to say it again, to whisper it against every inch of my body until the touch of his lips is ingrained into my memory.

I never want to forget this, to forget him .

"You," I manage to say, breathless with a mixture of want and fear.

When I told him I wasn't a virgin, I wasn't lying. The college boyfriend I had for all of six months may have taught me some things, but knowing just how experienced Dex must be makes me feel wholly unprepared—and yet I don't want to stop, can't stop. I need to know what he feels like almost as badly as I need to breathe.

He sits up, and my heart races as he brushes his fingers across my navel, down my low belly, and along the waistband of my leggings. My pulse pounds between my legs, my body aching for him to touch me, to teach me.

I'll be his most willing student.

Slowly, so slowly, he grips the waistband of my leggings, starts edging them down. They glide across my hips, down my thighs, over my knees. Then he's easing them off over my feet and tossing them across the room, leaving only my thong in place. He runs his hands along my shins, the backs of my knees, my bare thighs. I tingle everywhere he touches me.

And then he's kissing me again, and I don't know if he's taking his time just for my benefit or because he enjoys it this way, but I revel in it. He could draw this out for hours, and I wouldn't whisper a word of complaint.

I run my hands down his back, feel the muscles flexing along his ribs as he holds himself atop me, and dig my nails in until he growls.

"Jesus," Dex says against my mouth, his body tensing up under my hands. He pulls away, his forearms braced on either side of my head as he stares down at me. "You drive me crazy, Nora."

A flash of heat goes through me .

"I know the feeling," I whisper, then raise my hand and brush my fingertips over his collarbone and across his chest. My gaze drops lower, to his ripped jeans, where his hard-on strains against the tight material.

Shifting onto one forearm, Dex trails his other hand across my breast, then down my stomach. He pauses at the edge of my panties, his gaze locked on mine. I bite my lip, breath getting heavy, and watch as his hand slips under the fabric.

The first brush of his fingertips across my sensitive skin is electric, and it makes me gasp. He's gentle, slow . I lift my hips slightly to press myself against him, thirsty for more of his touch.

His fingers slip lower, tease me, and a smirk curls on his lips. "Why are you so wet?" he murmurs, and the flush that rises to my cheeks just makes him smile more.

I want to tell him that he does this to me, that I've wanted to be touched by him since that first day I saw him leaning against the doorframe, from the first time I heard his voice and noticed the flash of ink across his knuckles. Now those fingers, those beautifully tattooed fingers, are circling my entrance, and I let out a breath when one finally slips inside.

He brings his mouth to my nipple, his warm tongue and the touch of metal heaven against my skin. Closing my eyes, I let myself get lost in him, in the sensations of his fingers and lips. I keep my eyes closed as his mouth moves from my nipple, across my rib cage, and down to my hip bone. Then I finally open them.

My chest rises and falls rapidly as Dex brings one of my legs up and drapes it over his shoulder. He presses kisses along my inner thigh, and I curl my fingers into the thick rug as his mouth moves closer to the only still-clad part of me.

No, I'm not a virgin, but I've never done this before. College Boyfriend didn't want to, said it was "too hard," whatever that means, and I didn't push.

But now Dex is trailing his tongue along the top edge of my thong, and he's certainly making it look easy.

His blue eyes meet mine as he lifts my other leg onto his shoulder and reaches under me to slide the thong slowly off my hips. Then he's slipping the fabric off one foot, followed by the other, and I'm lying completely naked on the living room floor.

His eyes rake over me, his tongue darting out to touch his lip ring. "Fuck," he says. "You're so sexy."

Dex reaches for me, and when he catches my hand, he pulls me up and lifts me onto the couch. Kneeling before me, he drags my hips to the edge of the cushion and parts my legs.

I can feel my heart beating in my clit, and it throbs as he leans in close. My whole body tenses up as his mouth draws nearer to my skin. Slowly, he drags his tongue from my entrance to the top of my folds, and I squeal.

"Shh," he whispers, hands tightening around my thighs. "Enjoy it."

His tongue touches me again. It's warm and wet as he licks me from bottom to top, and my head falls back against the couch cushion when he parts my lips with his mouth and sucks on my throbbing clit.

I fooled around with a couple boys in high school and had sex with College Boyfriend, but I've never felt anything like this. This is getting caught in a summer storm. Losing my breath. Standing on the edge of the unknown—and stepping off the ledge.

Dex wraps his arms around my thighs, gripping me, holding my legs apart as he sucks harder. I'm moaning now, my fingernails digging into the throw pillows on the couch. His tongue dips into me, and then he's back at my clit, circling it, sucking on it, lavishing it in attention. The pleasure swells inside me, building and building. My toes curl, a trembling starting in my legs.

But then Dex shifts, not yet letting me finish. I open my eyes to find him sitting up. He reaches for his belt, and a heat wave of desire goes through me as he undoes the buckle and frees the top button of his jeans.

Standing, Dex pushes his jeans and boxers down, and his dick springs free, flushed pink and glistening at the tip. The sight cultivates such hunger in me that I immediately sit up and lean forward on the couch, reaching for him, wanting to feel him, to taste him.

He's hard beneath my hand, and he groans as I take him into my mouth. Slowly, I ease him in, widening my jaw to adjust to his size. My tongue brushes against his head as I slide my lips over his dick, and he tangles his fingers in my hair and pulls, which only makes me wetter. I move faster, groaning around him as he gets harder in my mouth.

I vary my speed, going fast and then slow, wanting him to want it, to crave it. And if the sounds he's making are any indication, I think he's about to explode.

He hardens again, getting impossibly firm between my lips, but before he can cum, he eases himself out of my mouth, pulls me up off the couch, and lifts me into his arms. I wrap my legs around him and find his lips with mine, then his tongue. He tastes like me, like that secret place no one else has ever tasted. If it were anyone else, I might be turned off by it, but with him, I want to drag my tongue across his lips, to relish every taste he gives me.

His arms are strong, sturdy, and he carries me into my bedroom with ease. There's only a salt lamp on in this room, and the dim light cuts shadows across his jaw as he lowers me gently onto the bed.

"I have to have you," he says, climbing on top of me and parting my legs with his hips. His dick is poised to slide into me, to sink fully into my body, but he hesitates, waiting, watching my face.

"Then take me," I whisper breathlessly.

Desire flashes across his face. And then he pushes through my folds and plunges into me.

My body takes him in, eager and willing. I gasp as I stretch around him, but the momentary sting of pain quickly gives way to pleasure. I'm soaking wet now, dripping as he pulls out and thrusts back into me. I've never wanted someone this bad before. Even as he's inside me, I yearn for more. I lift my legs and wrap them around his back, clinging to him, wanting to draw him closer even as he's buried inside me. He catches my lips, kisses me deeply. I could drown in this ecstasy.

Dex pulls out and sits back on his knees. I almost whimper at the emptiness it leaves inside me.

"Sit up," he says. "Grab the headboard."

I do as he says. Climbing to my knees on the bed, I bend slightly over in front of him and wrap my fingers around the wooden headboard. Maneuvering behind me, he lifts my left leg in the crook of his elbow, then eases his length back into me. Once again, my body pulls him in, hungry for his heat.

Fully inside me, his naked chest pressed against my back, Dex reaches around, and his fingertips find my clit. I gasp at the sensation. Now he's thrusting slowly, matching his pace to the speed of his fingers pressing circles against me.

And it's everything. It's shaking legs and panted breaths. It's a sheen building up on my low back from the fire burning through my body.

I've fantasized about Dex fucking me, have even touched myself to the thought of him, but even in my wildest imaginings, it was never like this. I always imagined him bending me over and doing me hard, having his way with me, leaving me trembling. But this , what he's doing right now, is even better. It's deep and slow. It's transcendent. It's borderline holy.

I cry out as he thrusts into me. His fingers rub harder against my clit, and I'm building up again, breathing faster, closing my eyes. In my mind, I see his head between my thighs, the shimmer of his tongue as it slips inside of me.

"Holy shit," I whisper.

His skin slaps mine, harder now, faster.

And then he takes me there. My walls clench and throb around his dick, my toes curling as I let out a moan that even my neighbor must hear. He continues to fuck me through my orgasm, his fingers touching me more gently now, easing me down from my explosive high.

"Fuck," he bites out. He drives his length into me one more time, burying himself deep, then pulls out .

He cums on my ass, grunting through his release. Heat rolls down my cheek and onto the back of my thigh. The sensation makes me shiver.

For a moment, neither of us speak. Dex lowers my leg, then pulls my body against his, wrapping his arms around me and burying his face in the side of my neck. His chest pressed against my back, I can feel the rapid beating of his heart.

Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum.

My lungs heave as I try to catch my breath, and as my orgasm subsides and the racing of my heart begins to slow, a tidal wave of emotion crashes over me.

I want him here, with me, forever. I want to make love on the kitchen counter, then eat greasy Chinese takeout and play video games until we fall asleep. I want him to sing just for me, and I want him in the audience every time I step onstage.

But that's not real life. That's a fantasy, one that will never, ever come true.

And that realization makes my eyes flood with tears.

I want to blame it on the hormones coursing through my body, and that probably plays a small part, but as I kneel here cradled in Dex's arms, his breath warm against my neck, I feel terrified that he's going to leave.

I'm a fool. I knew what could happen. I warned myself time and time again to stay away from him. But his pull is like gravity; I tried, I fought, but in the end, I couldn't resist it.

A tear slips down my cheek, and he must feel it, because he pulls away slightly.

"Nora? Are you okay?"

I force out a light laugh, not wanting to reveal the torrent of emotions raging through me. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just tired now. "

He nuzzles his face into my neck again, and his scruff tickles my skin. "Then fall asleep with me." His voice is gruff, quiet, and his words make my heart pick up its rapid beating again.

Is he going to stay?

I figured he'd get dressed and leave right away, add another notch to his bedpost, but it seems I was wrong.

I'm so glad I was wrong.

Dex flops down onto my bed. He puts a hand under his head and closes his eyes, looking completely at ease in my bedroom, the salt lamp casting a warm orange glow across his face.

"I'll be right back," I tell him, then quickly slip off the bed and head into the bathroom.

Once the door closes, I let out a breath, and a few more tears slide down my cheeks before I quickly swipe them away. I want to sob and wrap myself around his body, to have him hold me until I know he's not going anywhere. But I can't do that. Crying is just going to scare him away, and I barely have him as is.

I quickly pee, then grab a washcloth and wet it down with warm water. After washing his cum off my thigh, I check my face in the mirror. My freckled cheeks are flushed, and my brown eyes are tinged with a touch of redness from the alcohol and tears. My hair is mussed, so I quickly run a hand over it while brushing my teeth. When there's no other way to bide time, I take a breath, steady myself, and head back into my bedroom.

Dex is partially under the covers now, his chest still exposed, and when I walk into the room, he reaches out for me.

"Come on," he whispers .

And I slip back into his arms like it's where I belong.

He holds me against his chest, his breathing slow and even, and I trace the ink swirling across his skin.

"Do your tattoos mean something?" I ask, my voice low and heavy with sleepy satisfaction.

Dex chuckles, and the sound is a rumble beneath my ear. "Some of them."

"How about this one?" I glide my hand over a sword running down the middle of his sternum.

When he opens one eye to see which tattoo I'm referring to, he smirks. "I can't tell you."

"What?" I sit up a little to look at him. "Why?"

"Because it's lame."

" Lame? "

His eyes are closed again, but he's smiling, and it just makes me want to know even more.

Feeling bold, I swing a leg over his body and push myself up so I'm straddling him. Beneath me, his dick pulses, and he opens his eyes.

"Tell me," I whisper, drawing both hands down his chest, across the sword, and to where the point ends just above his navel. "Please?"

Dex rolls his eyes and sighs, but he's smiling. "I told you, I can't."

"Why?"

"Because you'd never see me the same."

I arch a brow in irritation.

In one smooth movement, Dex wraps an arm around my waist and flips me onto the mattress so he's on top. "You can't give me that look," he says, burying his face in my neck again and kissing me. "You're too fucking cute. "

"Tell me!" I squeal, wriggling and laughing until he finally stops the ticklish kisses.

"Okay, but you have to promise not to tell anyone ." His blue eyes stare into mine, deadly serious.

I hold up a pinky. "I pinky promise."

His lips pull into a smirk. "You're such a dork," he says, but he wraps his pinky around mine anyway. "Okay... It's the sword from Shadow Odyssey ."

My eyes go wide, and my mouth falls open.

"No way!" I study the tattoo a bit more carefully, but it's so dim in here, it's hard to make out all the details on the hilt of the sword. "That's one of my favorite games."

Dex smiles and shakes his head. "I should've known."

He falls back onto the bed, then pulls me down next to him, and I laugh as my head hits the pillow. His arm wraps around me, strong and sure. I cuddle against him, finding a spot just under his chin for my head.

"I can't believe you play Shadow Odyssey ," I whisper into the darkness, then giggle sleepily.

"I fuckin' wasted the Shadow Council," he says, one hand trailing slowly across my low back, and I grin.

He really did play the game. And somehow, knowing that makes me curl a bit closer to him.

I find myself starting to drift off, his lips in my hair, his breathing a calming sound that whisks me into peaceful darkness.