Irrevocably Mine (Imagine Ink Book 3) (5 page)

Stacy continued to visually gorge on the sight in front of her and was blown away by the barely contained power that seemed to flow from every cell in his body. Even in the darkness that encompassed the room, she could see enough. He looked like a legendary Viking set to plunder and pillage in the backlight coming from the hall.
You mean conquer, Stacy, conquer.

The determined look in his eyes gave her pause. As much as she wanted to dream about, and possibly pursue a relationship, it wasn’t in the cards. Gazing down his body she realized how much self-control it would take on her part to keep this a physical encounter only, especially if he kept looking at her like she was the greatest treasure he’d ever beheld.

When his jeans were off, she almost choked on her own tongue. So much of his body was a canvas of colors and art. Even so, she could see the power disguised underneath the ink and hardware. He honed his body as he did everything else. It was obviously another artistic expression to him. As much as every inked line spoke of his creativity, his life, so did his body itself.

Stacy noticed cuts and valleys that she’d never paid attention to on another man—not in appreciation, anyway. To her, men who developed their muscles to this extent were vain, but Dax was different. It was personal expression, not vanity that built a body unlike any other she’d ever seen, a body she couldn’t wait to experience in the most primal of ways.

Looking him straight in the eye, she deadpanned, “Do you have your license?”

As expected, Dax was perplexed, tossing her a confused look. He was cute as fuck when he was lost, but she decided to get this show on the road.

“I was just wondering if you have a CCW for that weapon you’re packing?”

One, two thr… There it is, comprehension. Fuck me stupid if that smile isn’t blinding.

And wicked.

Grasping his impressive cock in his big hand did nothing to diminish its appearance. Dax made a few lazy strokes while devouring her with his eyes once again.
God, that look.

He whispered under his breath, “Wonder Woman’s starred bloomers,” and continued to eat her up with his sinful gaze. By her estimate, it would take less than four minutes for her to come simply by watching him stroke himself while stroking her with only his eyes…
Wait, did he just say?

“Wonder Woman’s what? Did you just say that, seriously? Way to rip a girl out of the moment there, Romeo.” Dax’s eyes still consumed her body as he nodded absently.

“Really? So what happened to the Tiger Beat boys, Dax?” Questioning eyes finally met hers, but quickly returned to roam her body, his one hand still slowly pumping his gorgeous cock, while the other traced her thigh gently, lovingly.

“You know, Leif Garrett’s hairy nut sack, Scott Baio’s puckered asshole, David Cassidy’s feathered pubes, or any of the other nonsensical sayings you’ve spouted about the dudes from Tiger Beat’s heyday? What, did you move on to superheroes?”

Dax still seemed so distracted by eye-fucking her that she continued and wondered if he would even hear a word she said. “You know, I fucking love your nonsensical curses as much as anyone, I don’t get half of them, but they make me laugh anyway, but I do not want the hear them while I am waiting for you to bury your huge cock in me.”

The grin that curved his lips almost made her come. That was just a precursor. In one swift move, he pushed her skirt up around her waist like a belt and snatched off her thong, which went flying down the hall somewhere. Gripping her hips, he leaned his torso on the bed, looking her pussy square in the eye, so to speak, licked his lips, and spoke in a lust-roughened voice. “Not super, just heroes, my dear, heroes. Tiger Beat was so last month, this month it’s hero’s, mythical and super. Who knows what it will be next month. I don’t want to be,” he winked, “predictable.” With that, he bit the sensitive crease on the inside of her thigh, suckling it with a vengeance.

Stacy’s scream rent the air and her panting took on a horny as hell cadence. “Fuck.”

He released it with a smack and reached under her top for her breasts. Panic set in, she couldn’t let him touch her there; she just couldn’t. Relaxing the hold on his head, she stopped his huge mitts before they reached their target. His eyes asked the silent question, but she couldn’t explain to him why.

Not now, maybe not ever.

It wasn’t that she was ashamed to be a survivor, never that, but she didn’t want his pity or him to look at her as half a woman. He was a boob man, no doubt about it. Stacy was as observant as they come, and she knew he liked tits.
Would he be turned off a little by it? Would it lessen his pleasure?
She didn’t think so, but she couldn’t bear it if she were wrong. For a moment, she considered it. If anyone could improve the way she felt about it, it would be Dax. Although she’d never told him, or any of her new family in Florida about it, she had a feeling he knew, but still, the last man she let that close to her violated that trust and she couldn’t bear it if Dax was less than she hoped in this case.

“Dax, no. I…I…can’t. I…had, um…”

He pulled his hand out from under her hands and her shirt, shifted and came up more fully on her body and took her cheeks in his ample hands before speaking.

“I know, Stacy. I know about the cancer, well, about the mastectomy, anyway. I’ve known that for a long time, but I wasn’t one hundred percent sure until I asked John.” He must have read the murderous look in her eyes, because he amended, “John didn’t spill, if that’s what you’re thinking. I asked him and the look on his face told me. That was all the confirmation I needed. The only thing that matters about your cancer and treatment is that you survived. You got dealt a shit hand, but you kept playing and you won. Physically, you are just as beautiful as you would be with two breasts or twenty. It matters not to my physical attraction to you.”

“But, how can that be. I know you’re a boob man. How can you be turned on by a woman with one fucking tit and a puckered smiley face?” Stacy tried to rise, but Dax refused her retreat.

“Damn it, stop running away and listen to me.” He grabbed her hand and wrapped it around his cock, holding it in place and stroking ever so slightly.
Wow, my fingers aren’t even touching. Jesus H. Christ.
“Does that feel like I’m not physically attracted to you? Shit, do you have any idea what you do to me? Not your tits or ass or any of that, but you? Hell, Stacy, if the cancer came back, I wouldn’t care what it took to get rid of it. It’s not your tits I want. It’s you. All of you.” He leaned in and kissed her with so many emotions she couldn’t deal with it. “Now, if you’ll lay back and just enjoy it, I’d like to get my beard waxed.”

Kiss.

“Sooner, rather than later.”

As he slid back down her body, Stacy wanted to trust him so badly, but she wasn’t sure she could just yet. “Can we leave my shirt on for now?”

“Of course, babe, anything that makes you feel safe with me, makes me happy.” As soon as the last syllable passed his lips, he was on her—licking and sucking and biting, in all the right places. Stacy threw her head back with a moan and slammed her eyes shut as pleasure washed over her body. But before that happened, she saw the sincerity in his eyes when he said her safety made him happy, and that had an erotic effect on her.

Or maybe it was that talented tongue and those fucking magical lips. Not only did the words they release fill her heart with wonders, their movements were sheer ecstasy.

Grabbing his head, she directed him with precision. There was no doubt he was fucking her with his mouth, but she was fucking his face right back. Bucking and writhing, she was getting closer and closer to screaming in pleasure. “You’re a pussy-eating pro,” she panted out between moans. Her words sent him into a frenzy. The moans of pleasure coming from Dax rivaled hers. The fact he seemed to enjoy it as much as she did was a testament to his gender.

“I enjoy eating at the Y,” he murmured between lingering licks. “Not hard to do…when you taste like mine.” He practically shouted those last words between nibbles. Something about those words, or maybe the inflection and reverence he put into them, along with a well-timed bite and pinch, sent Stacy careening over the edge at breakneck speed. She found herself on the verge of an asthma attack when her breath locked in her lungs on a silent scream.
And I don’t fucking have asthma.

Shit, she had never cracked her back on an orgasm before. Her breath still hadn’t been liberated as Dax climbed her body and entered her in one smooth stroke. “Batman’s bl…FUCK!” he shouted when their pelvises met and he ground once, then stilled.

When she exerted a modicum of control over her body once again, she ground up into him and watched his eyes go wide and gooey. She loved that power, always had, but to wield it over such an imposing man was drugging. He started a slow roll of his hips and each roll was like what she imagined popping a pill or shooting up would feel like—that high, that euphoria. One shot would never be enough and that scared the fuck out of her. Like a drug addict, would she always be chasing that high?

Stacy pushed on his chest and he allowed her to reverse their positions. As she rose above him, she inventoried what ink she could see in the meager light. His chest was a history of the mighty Vikings, along with the odd flower or writing in a language she couldn’t read.

Placing her left hand on the black inked Viking longship, and her right over a full-color tat of Odin on Sleipnir, she locked her elbows, looking him in his dark eyes. She wanted to let him know exactly who she was in the bedroom, or rather, who she had become.

“I don’t mind letting you take the lead when I’m in the mood, but when it comes to this, I’m in control, understand?” If possible, his eyes got wider. He dropped his hands to her hips, rocked her back and forth, and watched where they were joined intently, biting his lip in a sexy, me-likey-what-I-see way, and then made eye contact with her once again.

Stacy leaned in and nibbled his ear lobe. He responded with a low groan, but when she nipped him under his ear, just behind his beard, his hips shot off the sheet. “Fuck, babe, it didn’t take you long to find my spot.” Dax continued moaning as she feasted on the salty skin there. He kept mumbling, “fuck yeah,” and “direct connection to my dick.” She filed that information away for later.

Now, she needed his focus on her words, so she rose up once again to look into his coffee colored eyes. “If you aren’t man enough to handle it, then these…encounters aren’t for me.” Stacy ground down on Dax with a move that would bring most men to the edge of control and paused, arching an eyebrow and waiting for an answer. It was all for show on her part, because only one man had ever refused her. However, she would never make the mistake of accepting that again. Weakness in the bedroom transferred to the rest of the relationship and that was not going to happen here.

Even though she and Dax didn’t have a relationship beyond friendship, well, friends with benefits now, she would not allow that weakness. Dax released her hips, and for a split second, Stacy thought he was calling a halt to their party, until he folded his corded arms under his dark head and that orgasm-inducing smile split his face.

“Damn, if I’m not the luckiest man alive.” Dax removed one arm and grabbed her by her nape, bringing her lips to his. “A woman that knows what she wants and takes it is a rare creature, indeed.” He kissed her, but not the passion-fueled kiss of earlier, this one held so much more. Contained within it were things she refused to acknowledge or even identify fully. When he ended the kiss, he held her there, nose-to-nose and peered into her soul. “Anything you want, counselor. Anything you want.” He returned his arm to its previous position and seemingly relaxed, awaiting her pleasure and damned if he wasn’t trying to steal a piece of her heart with that.

If he trusts me enough to be in control, maybe I can trust him enough to not have to be
…

T
hat little power
nap did wonders. Energized and ready to go for round three, Dax glanced down at the blonde head resting on his tattooed chest.
She snores
. Of course, he wouldn’t be mentioning that to her anytime soon. Reaching over to flick on the lamp, Dax did his damnedest not to wake her. Even in sleep, she seemed guarded.
Maybe that’s because she’s asleep in front of me.
Stacy stirred a bit, but settled quickly, or as settled as she seemed capable of being.

The study of her face yielded no clues to why she felt the need to be on guard after what they shared. Her lashes fanned across her porcelain cheek and the full, pink lips he was addicted to were a whisper apart. She appeared relaxed, but Dax could see the underlying tension. He wanted to see that tension gone for good.

Remembering the brief glimpses of her surrendering to the pleasure they shared brought Dax’s cock fully awake and turned it into a heat-seeking missile. He had no control over the slow grind of his body into her side. Of course, dry humping her thigh wasn’t exactly on his to-do list, so why not wake her up? Grasping the corner of the sheet tucked under her chin, Dax lowered it slowly, imagining the sensual reveal of her body.