A Little Taste of "Phoenix"

Taking a strawberry, he dipped it in the cream and bit into the white-coated fruit. A drizzle of pink juice slid down the side of his mouth. I grabbed the edge of the counter harder, watching it disappear into his tightly trimmed beard and fighting the urge to lick it off.

He hunched over away from me with a hand under his mouth. “Son-of-a-bitch.” He chuckled. “Messy as hell, but you gotta try this.”

My thighs quivered at the sight of his full, wet lips. Knowing if I kissed him, he’d taste like strawberries, chocolate, and whipped cream rattled something deep inside of me loose. My breasts grew heavier and throbbed against the material of my dress.

This was what want felt like.

I took one of the larger raspberries and generously coated it with whipped cream. When I lifted my hand, he shackled my wrist and brought it to his mouth. He took the berry and my fingers between his lips, his thumb drawing small circles on my wrist. The wet heat of his mouth, the strong pressure of his tongue against the pads of my fingers made the fabric of my gown tighten even more.

He removed them slowly with a wicked grin and wrapped both my arms up around his neck with a chuckle. “Easy, babe. Hug me.”

Him pulling my fingers from his mouth was the most erotic thing I’d ever experienced, and hug him I did. It was closer to strangling, as if I wouldn’t get another chance to do this. I constantly fought this innate need I had to be held, tight. With Jaxxon, I could stay against his rock-hard chest as long as he’d let me.

My world shifted at the soft brush of his lips along the slope of my neck. I locked my forearms and held him tighter, not wanting to let go, and yet curious . . .

“Shhh,” he whispered against my skin. “No pressure, baby.”

But I wanted pressure. I’d lived an entire lifetime not trusting, hiding, avoiding, feeling empty . . . and convincing myself I didn’t need more. I’d been married to a man who hadn’t wanted me. This one appeared to want to be with me, and I found myself battling not to give in.

All thought disappeared when he slid his hands under the sides of my dress. With his arms wrapped around me, he skimmed fingers along the sides of my ribs. I tucked my face into his neck, taking in his clean, pine and wintery scent.

This dress didn’t allow for a bra, but I did have panties on—panties that were now saturated and plastered to every curve and crevice between my thighs. I squirmed on top of the counter, moving closer to him, trying to alleviate some of the unfamiliar sensation.

I needed closer.

He smelled so damn good. I wanted to feel his skin against mine. I wanted to see him, touch him. Shoving my hands under his collar, I pulled out his ponytail. “Can I take it out?”

“Take it out,” he demanded against my skin, the tip of his nose brushing along my neck.

As I took a deep breath, my chest rose and pressed harder against his. I bit back the groan threatening to spill from my mouth.

I unraveled the band from his hair and slid both hands into his locks. Thick and soft, they fell like heavy silk over my wrists. I tilted my head against his as Jaxx’s dark-blond mane flowed through my fingers. Taking a fistful at the top of his head and one at the bottom, I clung to him.

His groan against my neck vibrated down into my chest. “Fuck, your hands feel good.”

The lightest touch of his fingers grazed along the swells of my breasts. I inhaled at the sharp pain constricting my nipples and inched closer to him, the pressure of his chest both relieving and intensifying the ache. His lips trailed an inferno down my neck. I let my mouth fall open and my head drop back, giving him more access.

As I lifted my legs along his sides, he pulled his hands from my dress and wrapped them around my calves, guiding them around his waist. My core pressed flush against his unquestionably hard length.

“Jesus,” I sighed against his ear and fastened my arms around his shoulders. Every inch of him was so hard. So perfect. “What are you doing to me?”

“Anything you want,” he rumbled and pushed his hands through my hair, holding our foreheads together before dropping both hands to my ass.