Dax

by Sawyer Bennett

  When she rolls her eyes, I vow her ass is going to pay for that. “You’re not fucking me,” she sneers. “So I will—”

  I effectively cut her words off by crushing her mouth under mine. My hands go to the wall, pinning her in, and I fucking ravage that smart-ass mouth of hers. The kiss claims ownership, but it’s short because words are more important right this moment.

  I lift my head. “I’m getting ready to rectify that ‘not fucking you’ thing right now. You have one chance to tell me ‘no,’ and—”

  “Yes,” she blurts out, her small hands fisting into my dress shirt.

  Yes.

  Christ… she said yes.

  Exhaling a sharp breath, I let my forehead drop to touch hers. With my eyes squeezed tight, I tell her a dirty secret. “I’m not sure I can be gentle with you right now, Regan. That dress has me all kinds of twisted, and I’m beyond pissed other men saw you in it. Got this strange need to fucking mark you.”

  “Damn, that’s hot,” she breathes, and that’s all I need to center me again.

  I snicker, lifting my head to smile at her. “I’m so going to spank your ass.”

  When she grins, it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. More beautiful than her breasts threatening to pop out of that dress and her ass that’s begging me to do all sorts of things to it.

  Just… that smile.

  It also helps center me, puts me a back in control of the raging fire burning inside.

  “Shall we go to your room?” she suggests.

  My teeth flash in a feral smile, and I shake my head. “Can’t really wait that long.”

  Regan’s eyes turn curious before they pop wide with surprise as I turn her roughly around to face the wall. With my body, I press her into it.

  My cock, thick and fully hard, digs into her lower back, causing her to moan. Regan’s face is turned, cheek pressed to the wall, and her breath comes out in little pants.

  “Don’t move,” I murmur against her ear before putting space between us.

  She looks fucking fantastic. Legs slightly spread, palms flat against the wall, and ass tipped up slightly as if she’s expecting me back there. The dress indeed shows the bottom globes of her butt. Fingertips itching to go there, I slowly raise the hem to reveal even more creamy skin.

  Higher to reveal a white string thong nestled into the crack of her ass.

  Damn. My dick is actually throbbing in pain now.

  I press into her, slide my hand around to her front, and dive my fingers into her panties. She’s already soaking wet, and I slide two fingers in deep.

  Regan groans, presses her ass into me, and gyrates her hips. The friction against me feels amazing. My balls are already tingling.

  I nuzzle my face into the side of her throat, sinking my teeth into her earlobe. “Keep doing that, little girl, and I’m going to unload in my pants.”

  That, of course, makes her rub against me even harder. I quell her motions by adding a third finger to her pussy, then pump them in and out roughly. Regan makes a noise deep in her throat that sounds like she’s starved for even more. But I don’t give it to her that way. Instead, I run just the tip of my index finger over her swollen clit, which causes her entire body to jerk against me.

  “Yeah,” I praise, applying more pressure and speed to my finger. As I strum her like a guitar, her head slams into my chest, her back arching. She pushes her palms into the wall, slams her body against me as tight as it can go, and comes all over my fingers as she moans her release.

  “Fucking beautiful,” I mutter, dipping a finger back inside her wetness and relishing the feel of her inner muscles contracting all around it.

  Regan is gasping for air, trembling, and my cock is feeling sorely ignored. Putting my hand on her upper back, I push her into the wall, then pull her hips toward me.

  “Spread your legs a little,” I order, and she complies. Her head turns, cheek against the wall, her long eyelashes fanning out against the skin just below them as she closes her eyes in anticipation.

  My fingers are quick and assured as they work at my belt, then my zipper, before releasing my cock. It’s painfully hard, precome leaking from the tip.

  I can’t fucking wait… I just dip my knees, bring the head to her entrance from behind, and rub it through her folds to get it coated with her juices.

  “Mmmm,” she moans, wiggling her ass.

  Tilting my hips, I press against her, feel her flesh quiver, tighten, and finally loosen just a fraction as the head of my cock slips in.

  I grit my teeth, letting my breath rush out slowly from the overwhelming sensation of her heat against me.

  I press harder into her, feeling the slide of my skin against hers. Feeling the tug as if she’s sucking me in deep, or is that from me plunging? I have no clue.

  All I know is the journey into her is the fucking best thing I’ve ever felt in my life, and my balls throb in relief when I bottom out. Snaking my hands up her stomach, I reach into the deep cut of her dress and fit a palm around each breast.

  “Christ, you feel good, Regan,” I mutter as I give her tits a squeeze.

  She responds by pushing against the wall, tipping her ass up higher, and trying to make just a little more room for me. I sink in just a fraction more, but then my pelvis is pressed hard against her ass, and I’m finally all the way in.

  I’m almost afraid to move, suspicious Regan is better than anything I’ve ever felt before, and I don’t know if my self-control can take it. It’s not lost on me that I’m fucking her without a condom, which is an absolute no-no for me.

  But then again, I’ve never fucked someone I’ve cared for or known for their entire life.

  The only thing I do know is I’m not stopping because this feels so very right.

  Unless…

  “Are you on birth control?” I murmur, nuzzling into her neck.

  “Yes,” she gasps, then moans low as I pull back in relief of her answer, only to punch in deep.

  I push my head against hers as I start to move inside her. Putting my lips against her ear, I promise her the moon. “Hold tight, Regan. I’m going to show you just how crazy this dress has been driving me.”

  CHAPTER 17

  Dax

  The bourbon I’m sipping isn’t helping as I sit in my dark living room waiting for Willow to get home. I’ve just left my bed, leaving a warm, naked, and completely wrecked Regan there. I’d thought I’d had my fill when I’d fucked her up against the wall, but by the time I’d carried her to my room, I’d wanted her again. That’s when the clothing came all the way off and nature took its course.

  It wasn’t how I envisioned things happening, but I was soon flat on my back with Regan riding me. She was so sweet. Shy and hesitant when she asked if she could be on top. I’m not sure she quite understands, but there isn’t any wish I wouldn’t grant her. I’d let her do anything she wanted to me, perhaps even break my heart at some point.

  She was fucking spectacular. When I came inside of her, my hips bucking hard and almost dislodging her body from mine, I realized it was even better than before. Maybe it was her own concurrent orgasm that caused mine to go nuclear. Or maybe it’s just going to keep getting better and better each time.

  Who knows, but one thing is certain… I’m not giving this up.

  Not any time soon at least.

  Which means I have to sit in my dark living room and wait for my sister to come home because I need to talk to her about why and how I have a sleeping Regan in my bed.

  Willow deserves to know the full truth about what’s going on, particularly since she witnessed me going all jealous commando on Regan and she’ll be walking out of my bedroom tomorrow morning. I asked Regan permission to tell Willow about the PNH because it makes the fact we’re married a little more palatable.

  In addition to filling Willow in on the entire situation, I also need to tell my sister to back off before she decides to get on my case about the fact Regan is in my bed at all and will stay the
re for the foreseeable future. I know my sister. She’s a busybody, and she’ll also feel super protective over Regan. Willow will feel the need to protect Regan from any supposed misdeeds or harms I might impose. Yeah, I know my sister well.

  Lights flash through the blinds of my front windows, indicating a car has pulled into my driveway. I stand from my chair, then cross to the side of the window to peer through the half-closed slats. My jaw locks when I see a limousine with the running lights on and the engine rumbling. Dominik Carlson doesn’t wait for the driver to open the door for him. Instead, he steps out of the rear door. He’s without the dress jacket and tie he’d been wearing earlier tonight, and the top two buttons of his shirt are undone.

  He helps Willow from the limo. After she steps elegantly out, he pulls her hard into his arms and kisses her. It’s deep and hot. I avert my eyes, my teeth now grinding against each other. Trying to rein in my protective instincts, I head to the chair and flop down.

  And I wait for my sister to come in.

  And wait…

  And wait…

  And wait…

  It’s a full five minutes before I hear the spare key I gave her this morning turn in the lock. She breezes through, not appearing any worse for the wear from what I can see. Instead, her eyes are sparkling and there’s a smile on her face.

  It’s not the dreamy smile of a woman who has just had a romantic date with a nice man. Rather, it’s a victorious, self-indulgent smile, and I don’t want to know what that means.

  Or do I?

  “It’s almost three. Out kind of late,” I growl from the gloom before turning on the lamp that sits on the side table.

  She jumps slightly, having not seen me sitting there, but then rolls her eyes. “I’m an adult, bro. I don’t answer to you.”

  Leaning forward in the chair, I plant my elbows on my thighs and clasp my hands hard. “Dominik Carlson, Willow? Seriously? Could you pick anyone more complicated than that? He’s my boss for fuck’s sake.”

  Glaring, Willow puts a hand on her hip. “Who I choose to spend my time with is none of your business, Dax. But no worries… I’m not going to see him again.”

  My chin jerks inward. “You’re not?”

  “Nope,” she replies, setting her purse on the coffee table.

  “Why not? Did he treat you badly? Think you’re not good enough for him?”

  Willow snickers, shooting me an incredulous look that I’m defending her. “No, I declined his invitation to come to LA next weekend.”

  Eyebrows furrowing, I ask, “What’s wrong with him? Did he do something to you?”

  “Not at all,” she replies with a shrug as she moves to the couch. She plops down, then leans forward to take off her shoes. “He’s great even. But I’ve got another assignment coming up in a few weeks, so why even bother? Besides… I’m not into dating.”

  “Neither is he from what I hear,” I mutter. Dominik Carlson is a known player.

  “Well, there you go,” she drawls with exaggeration. “It’s not fated to be. Wait…why are you up?”

  “We need to talk.” My words hang heavy in the air.

  “Is this where you set me down to explain why you married our childhood friend behind your entire family’s back?”

  “Yeah… that’s about right.”

  Willow curls her legs up under herself, then throws an arm over the back of the couch. “So she needed health insurance or something? Surely there was an alternative to marriage for something as simple as insurance.”

  There’s no good way to break this to Willow, and I don’t know how to minimize the impact. So I just launch into it. “Regan is sick, Willow. And she has to have the health insurance because her treatments are incredibly expensive.”

  “Oh, my God,” she practically moans, her face crumbling. “Does she have cancer or something?”

  “No, not cancer, but something just as bad,” I say gravely. “She has a blood disease. It’s incredibly rare and dangerous, and it probably would have killed her sooner rather than later. But there’s a new treatment out that’s been effective in helping her. The problem is it costs more than four hundred thousand per year, so health insurance is essential.”

  “Jesus…” Willow gasps as she sits forward on the couch. “Who in the hell can afford that?”

  “The out-of-pocket portions are still pretty high even with the insurance. Without insurance, it’s practically unobtainable. The only way to help her was to marry her and put her on my coverage.”

  “What’s the disease called?” Willow inquires.

  I relay everything I’ve learned in the last two and a half weeks since I found out about Willow’s PNH. My sister peppers me with questions, and I’m proud I have most of the answers. The research I did was pretty extensive, and I’ve grilled Regan on a lot of things as well.

  When Willow is satisfied she understands as much as she can, she regards me with a tinge of hero worship. “You did the absolute right thing, Dax. But why didn’t Lance leave her with anything?”

  “Lots of reasons.” I explain that some of it was because of her expenses, but a good chunk of it was also just plain mismanagement of his money. We all know Lance loved Regan more than anything in this world, but he suffered the same delusion most people do when they’re young and at the height of their careers.

  That nothing bad will ever happen to them.

  “Unbelievable,” Willow murmurs, her gaze drifting off as she worries at her bottom lip. “But why couldn’t she just tell me?”

  “She doesn’t feel good about marrying for something other than love and for something as basic as insurance.”

  “That’s understandable,” Willow replies, her eyes searching mine. “But why keep her illness hidden?”

  I shrug. “It’s not like we saw each other a lot. I think she was just trying to deal with it as best she could. I’m sure she would have at some point.”

  But that comment sounds hollow to my ears, although Willow nods her understanding.

  She stretches her legs, plants her feet on the floor, and starts to stand. “Well, I better head to bed. It’s been a long night.”

  “There’s one more thing,” I say. She freezes, hovering above the cushion a moment before she eases down. I’ve told her some pretty bad news tonight. By the tone of my voice, I’m sure she’s thinking there’s worse to come.

  “What?” she whispers.

  “Regan and I are sleeping together,” I say without trying to tone down the challenge in my voice.

  “Oh, fuck no,” Willow hisses as she shoots off the couch. She wags a finger while scowling. “No, no, no, Dax. She’s not cut out for you. You’ll traumatize her.”

  “Flare your dramatics much?” I mutter sarcastically.

  “You’ll hurt her,” she warns, not being dramatic. Even I realize there’s a chance that’s going to happen.

  “I hope that’s not true,” is the best I can promise.

  “If you’re not in it for the long haul—or for reasons other than just because the sex is good—you’re going to really, really hurt her, Dax. Regan is not built for casual relationships.”

  “You don’t know that,” I growl from low within my belly. Willow’s assertion is a direct threat to my immediate happiness, and I’m selfishly going to defend against it. “You don’t know Regan any better than I do.”

  “You’re wrong, Dax,” she murmurs, taking a step closer to me. Standing over me, she says, “I’m a woman, and that means I know her in a way you don’t.”

  “But you’re nothing like her,” I point out. “You only do casual relationships. You don’t like commitment. So you being a woman doesn’t mean you have any greater insight into Regan’s mind than I do.”

  Willow’s mouth snaps shut. Her eyes flash with anger, but I can see by her expression I’ve hit the mark. She can’t argue with my very spot-on assessment.

  She huffs in frustration, scrubbing her hand through her hair. With a sigh, she admits, “She’s been through
enough, Dax. Losing Lance… being sick. She deserves to be happy.”

  “And what if I can make her happy?” I ask curiously, having no fucking clue if I’m the man for the job. I just know there’s something unique between us that transcends the amazing sex. I’ve got a bond with her I’ve never felt with another person.

  Willow doesn’t answer me, which is discouraging to say the least. Instead, she bends at the waist to place a kiss on the top of my head. “Be careful, Dax. That’s all I’ll say.”

  That is good advice, which I intend to follow.

  CHAPTER 18

  Regan

  I hear the clink of dishes and low voices as I tiptoe down the stairs. I woke up in Dax’s bed with him beside me. He was already awake, just lying on his side watching me. I was a bit surprised I’d stayed in his bed all night. I’d have expected him to have regrets like he had the first time and come up with some lame excuse to boot me from his room.

  Instead, he’d merely pulled me into his arms and kissed me. Not in a sexual way, but not sweetly either. I’d describe it more as an affirmation.

  Dax then proceeded to tell me how things were going to go between us. It sounded a bit practiced and rehearsed, but I’d listened intently.

  “Regan,” he’d said, still holding me around my waist but with his head tilted so he could look at me. “I don’t have a lot to promise you. I have no clue what this attraction between us is, but I don’t regret acting on it this time. I don’t know where this is going to lead us, since I’ve never been good at relationships. But I can promise if we’re being intimate, then I won’t be with anyone but you. That’s about all I can offer you at this time. So either tell me to leave you alone or keep touching you. I’ll respect whichever decision you decide on.”

  Deep down, I realize Dax doesn’t want a committed relationship and isn’t ready to settle down. It’s hard to envision a long-term future with him because of that. But he makes me feel things I’ve never felt before, and I want to explore these feelings. My brain tells me to put a stop to this but my heart, which thinks Dax might actually be capable of more than he gives himself credit for, is calling the shots.