Page 67
Story: From the Ashes
His lips kiss along my neck and shoulder. “Because I sit here now.” I manage to wiggle out of his hold and round the table to the other side. I sit where he can’t pull me back into his grasp.
The teacher announces, “Okay, class. Please take a seat. Today, we are going to talk about what to do after you have selected a topic and what steps you use next to research your topic. Now remember, you will actually be selecting a topic and writing a paper on this for the end of the semester, so make sure that you pay attention over the next couple weeks.”
Mrs. Gaede points to a white board at the front of where we are all at.
“Once you pick a topic, you first want to get in some background reading. This will help you get an overview of the topic.” As she goes on, I stare at the board, but my mind is torn between melting with thoughts of last night and trying to hold myself together being in the vicinity of Dax.
Daxon seems to be the common denominator in all this. I need to get away from him. When Mrs. Gaede finishes her lecture, she sends us on our own to do our research.
Disappearing into the stacks of books on the second floor, I make my way over to a section that contains books on mental health and depression. A part of me wants to find out if that was what plagued my mom, what caused her to end her life. Why she felt that was the only way out. Even with them both gone, all the shit I have put up with since coming here, nothing could make me want to end it all. I don’t understand the psyche or mental state that she seemed to be in. Why leaving me alone without her wasn’t more important.
With my head in a book I found, I round the corner and head into a section that continues my search. The air gets thicker, and the hair on the back of my neck stands on end. He's here.
“Spitfire.” His voice is low, and I feel him up against my back before I have time to turn around.
“Daxon,” I whisper.
He brushes my hair away from my neck, and then his hands travel down to my waist. He hugs me from behind, and I feel his lips along my neck and shoulder, setting my skin ablaze. His hardness presses against my ass, and he lets a groan slip from his throat.
“Is that your cellphone in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?” I quip.
“Well, my cellphoneisin my back pocket.” He spins me around and shoves me back against the shelves. “Fuck.” His lips crash down on mine, and the book I had in my hand falls to the floor. My lips dance against his, our tongues clash, our moans being swallowed up.
There’s a sudden realization of where we are. My mind wakes up from the make-out coma to jolt me back to reality. Pulling back, I try to distance our lips from each other.
“Stop, Dax. Not here.” My hands push against his chest, but my efforts are completely futile.
“No one will see us, and if you keep quiet, no one will hear us.” His hand moves down to my thigh, slowly traveling up under the skirt. Every part of me vibrates with need and want just from his touch. I’m whimpering the closer he gets to my core.
His lips descend on mine again, and slowly he kisses me, taking his time with me. His lips are soft, a strong contrast to every other part of him. He’s hard, he’s muscular, but his lips are warm and silky. His kisses make me weak, my knees wanting to give out to the ground below me. He is the only thing keeping me from crashing down. He pulls back, and our eyes lock on each other.
“Please, not here.” My voice is soft and quiet.
He stares at me, unsure whether he wants to listen to me. But after a moment, he finally speaks, “Okay. Fine. Not here. But on one condition.” Dax’s lips curl up.
I chuckle and shake my head. “Coming from you, I shouldn’t even ask what that condition is. I should turn and run.”
He laughs, and his hand comes up and tucks my hair behind my ear. He leans down to kiss my cheek. “Come to the game Friday.”
“Wait, what?” My face scrunches in confusion.
“Come to my game. Cheer me on. Cheer Mase on.”
“See now, I think you have me confused with those cheerleading bimbos that shake their ass and tits around for all to see. I don’t do football games, Dax.” I shake my head.
“Please? And then afterwards, there will be a party at my house.” He pouts. And damnit if that pout isn’t sexy as fuck on him too. What the hell is going on? I feel like I have whiplash with them.
“How about I think about it?” I purse my lips. What is going on in my brain? Am I really even considering thinking about going to a football game? These three are causing a serious mixup in my head. It’s like they use their superpowers of dick sorcery to break down my walls.
“See you there, Spitfire.” He smiles as he pushes off me and saunters away.
I roll my eyes. There’s no way I’m being caught dead at a football game. No fucking way. Sitting with people I can’t stand being around, watching guys tackle each other in tight pants that make their asses looks delicious. The sweat and grunts.
Shit. Okay. Maybe I can get Liz to go with me.
Dick fucking sorcery.
twenty-three
The teacher announces, “Okay, class. Please take a seat. Today, we are going to talk about what to do after you have selected a topic and what steps you use next to research your topic. Now remember, you will actually be selecting a topic and writing a paper on this for the end of the semester, so make sure that you pay attention over the next couple weeks.”
Mrs. Gaede points to a white board at the front of where we are all at.
“Once you pick a topic, you first want to get in some background reading. This will help you get an overview of the topic.” As she goes on, I stare at the board, but my mind is torn between melting with thoughts of last night and trying to hold myself together being in the vicinity of Dax.
Daxon seems to be the common denominator in all this. I need to get away from him. When Mrs. Gaede finishes her lecture, she sends us on our own to do our research.
Disappearing into the stacks of books on the second floor, I make my way over to a section that contains books on mental health and depression. A part of me wants to find out if that was what plagued my mom, what caused her to end her life. Why she felt that was the only way out. Even with them both gone, all the shit I have put up with since coming here, nothing could make me want to end it all. I don’t understand the psyche or mental state that she seemed to be in. Why leaving me alone without her wasn’t more important.
With my head in a book I found, I round the corner and head into a section that continues my search. The air gets thicker, and the hair on the back of my neck stands on end. He's here.
“Spitfire.” His voice is low, and I feel him up against my back before I have time to turn around.
“Daxon,” I whisper.
He brushes my hair away from my neck, and then his hands travel down to my waist. He hugs me from behind, and I feel his lips along my neck and shoulder, setting my skin ablaze. His hardness presses against my ass, and he lets a groan slip from his throat.
“Is that your cellphone in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?” I quip.
“Well, my cellphoneisin my back pocket.” He spins me around and shoves me back against the shelves. “Fuck.” His lips crash down on mine, and the book I had in my hand falls to the floor. My lips dance against his, our tongues clash, our moans being swallowed up.
There’s a sudden realization of where we are. My mind wakes up from the make-out coma to jolt me back to reality. Pulling back, I try to distance our lips from each other.
“Stop, Dax. Not here.” My hands push against his chest, but my efforts are completely futile.
“No one will see us, and if you keep quiet, no one will hear us.” His hand moves down to my thigh, slowly traveling up under the skirt. Every part of me vibrates with need and want just from his touch. I’m whimpering the closer he gets to my core.
His lips descend on mine again, and slowly he kisses me, taking his time with me. His lips are soft, a strong contrast to every other part of him. He’s hard, he’s muscular, but his lips are warm and silky. His kisses make me weak, my knees wanting to give out to the ground below me. He is the only thing keeping me from crashing down. He pulls back, and our eyes lock on each other.
“Please, not here.” My voice is soft and quiet.
He stares at me, unsure whether he wants to listen to me. But after a moment, he finally speaks, “Okay. Fine. Not here. But on one condition.” Dax’s lips curl up.
I chuckle and shake my head. “Coming from you, I shouldn’t even ask what that condition is. I should turn and run.”
He laughs, and his hand comes up and tucks my hair behind my ear. He leans down to kiss my cheek. “Come to the game Friday.”
“Wait, what?” My face scrunches in confusion.
“Come to my game. Cheer me on. Cheer Mase on.”
“See now, I think you have me confused with those cheerleading bimbos that shake their ass and tits around for all to see. I don’t do football games, Dax.” I shake my head.
“Please? And then afterwards, there will be a party at my house.” He pouts. And damnit if that pout isn’t sexy as fuck on him too. What the hell is going on? I feel like I have whiplash with them.
“How about I think about it?” I purse my lips. What is going on in my brain? Am I really even considering thinking about going to a football game? These three are causing a serious mixup in my head. It’s like they use their superpowers of dick sorcery to break down my walls.
“See you there, Spitfire.” He smiles as he pushes off me and saunters away.
I roll my eyes. There’s no way I’m being caught dead at a football game. No fucking way. Sitting with people I can’t stand being around, watching guys tackle each other in tight pants that make their asses looks delicious. The sweat and grunts.
Shit. Okay. Maybe I can get Liz to go with me.
Dick fucking sorcery.
twenty-three
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