Page 9 of Bound By Obsession

Our rhythm is instantly frantic, driven by the desperate need to devour. With every hurried thrust, a fire ignites within us, burning away any remnants of restraint. The intensity is overwhelming; each movement and each touch deepening our bond. I shift my angle, driving deeper, eliciting a gasp from Avery. Her eyes flutter closed, lips parting as she surrenders completely to the rapture coursing through her. The sight of her like this, her face contorted with ecstasy, spurs me on. I press my forehead against hers, our breaths mingling, creating a cocoon of intimacy that is sacred.

“Don’t stop,” she whispers, her voice a husky plea that sends a shiver down my spine.

“I won’t,” I promise, my voice thick with need. Avery pushes against my chest, hunting for my gaze.

“N-no, I mean-” she bites her lip as I slam hard inside of her. “Don’t stop being yourself. I want you, Dax. I want you exactly the way you are.” Her hips roll against mine, meeting each thrust with a fervor that matches my own. That same unfurling in my chest is back, tripled into a feeling that steals my breath. The room fades away, leaving only the two of us, entwined by the sound of our bodies moving together, our shared moans.

I feel the tension coiling in my core, ready to snap. Avery’s breath quickens, her fingers gripping my shoulders with a desperate urgency. I know she’s close, and the thought of her finding release pushes me to the brink.

“Avery,” I groan, my voice ragged. “I’m so close.”

“Come with me,” she pants, her eyes locking onto mine, filled with an intensity that takes my breath away. There’s no denying her, as usual. With a final thrust, we shatter, our orgasms crashing a pair of tidal waves battling to consume theother. Avery cries out, her body trembling around mine as I spill into her, the sensation embedding itself into my very soul. I immediately want to have her again, to keep fucking her until my name is the only one she knows how to gasp.

For a moment, we stand there, a tangle of limbs and sweat, riding out the waves of pleasure until we both come back down to earth. I brush a blonde strand of hair from her face, gazing at her with a tenderness that I can hardly contain. A fragile promise hangs on the end of my tongue, three tiny words that roar within my ears to be said. Whether Avery is ready to accept them is a different story.

A rattle on the doorknob reintroduces the real world. I can now hear the shuffle of feet and hushed whispers of annoyance. Shifting, I lower Avery and bend aside for my T-shirt. Giving it to her to clean up, I quickly tuck my weeping dick into my shorts, the hard-on slowly waning. For all of the jiggling on the handle, no one bangs or produces a key to open the door. This gives us time to tie our laces, right ourselves and share a knowing smile.

“Do you think the guys will know what we were up to?” Avery whispers, fluttering her lashes at me.

“I’ll be making sure they do,” I snort. Avery fake-slaps my chest and I pull her closer. Planting a gentle kiss on her forehead, I guide her to the door with my arm around her waist. We’re leaving with our heads held high, despite every fiber of my being wanting to stay right here, where I have Avery’s full attention. Not very brotherly of me, but perhaps I get to be selfish sometimes. Everyone else in our gang seems to take that opportunity without notice. Why shouldn’t I?

Walking down the street hand in hand with Dax is refreshing. Just the two of us, out in the open.

I’d half-expected the others to be arms-crossed and impatiently waiting for us to leave the storage room, but they were nowhere to be seen. Only the manager and a few disgruntled members of staff with bottles of disinfectant in hand. We were quickly handed our belongings and escorted out, much to our amusement. I reckon today was the most mischievous Dax has ever been, judging by the wide smile and air of energy about him. We’re two seconds from starting to skip down the street when a hair salon presents itself. I skid to a stop, a frown pulling at my mouth.

"What is it?" Dax tilts his head. I cling onto where our fingers are linked.

"Um, it's probably silly," I avoid his gaze but Dax gives me a knowing look as if nothing I say is silly. "I've just remembered that my roots are showing. My mom has been taking me to have my hair dyed since I was adopted, in an effort to hide me in plain sight I suppose. But I don't need to hide now that Fredrick knows where I am. So…I don't really know if I should keep up the pretence or not."

Pulling me into his arms, Dax forces me to look up at his small smile.

"Forget pretences, and stop worrying about what you should and shouldn't do. How do you like your hair?" The answer slips from my tongue immeadiately.

"I like being blonde."

"Then lead the way," Dax slides his hand to the small of my back and urges me towards the open doorway. That's how I find myself draped in a protective cloak and sitting before a huge, lit mirror with Dax on a swivel seat by my side. The hairdresser works in the background, bleaching my roots while Dax's hand plays with mine.

“I just want to apologize again,” I say, my cheeks flaring. The steady beat of my heart thumps within my ears. “If I made you feel insecure about the whole Garrett thing.” Dax snorts, his face stretching with a grin.

“That would be ironic.”

“What do you mean?” I push a strand of fallen hair aside to see his face. There’s a twinkle in his crystal blue eyes, a simple shrug on his shoulders.

“Me being insecure of the most insecure person I’ve ever met.” My head tilts before it's swiftly urged back into place. Dax’s hand doesn’t release mine, however.

“Garrett?” I raise a brow. A dull sense of unease blooms. Dax's chuckle is lost to the sound of a hair dryer whirring nearby,our conversation becoming masked. He's still grinning, like he’s containing a secret that I should have figured out by now.

“Yes Garrett. The man who can’t admit his feelings to himself, let alone voice them to anyone else. You should always be aware of the loudest man in the room, he has the most to hide.”

“I just- I’ve never thought…” I trail off. Damn, how could I have missed it? Dax tilts my chin upwards and smooths the creases out from between my eyebrows with his thumb in the way he always does.

“Tell me, how many times have you seen Garrett with his shirt off?” My face falls. Dax nods slowly, watching the understanding dawn within me. My gaze drifts towards the mirror without really seeing, my mind reeling as if I’ve just tossed my heart out of the window. Garrett’s insecure without a T-shirt on - why? What could be underneath that he’s so worried to show, especially since he’s had his hands all over my scars?

I fall into a reflective silence, the rest of the session slipping by. Dax strokes my hand until it's time to wash my hair out, in which he turns to reading some complementary magazines. Vaguely, I respond to questions when I'm asked, nod when it's polite and ignore the disquiet settling within. Even after I'm thanked the salon's staff and credited a ridiculous tip to Wyatt's account, I walk back to the hotel by Dax's side in more of a daze.

Once in the elevator, hands are roaming again. Dax distracts me with ease, his desire piercing the confusion. Tender caresses of his knuckles against my neck. Gentle strokes of my fingers across his biceps. I lean into Dax’s chest, gifted with a slow kiss. By the time the elevator pings and he leads me out, I'm smiling warmly again. I shouldn't make this revelation a big deal in my head, Garrett is still Garrett and when he's ready to open up to me, he will.

Except Dax and I both come to an abrupt halt as noise fills the hallway. Male voices yell, a concoction of curse words and slurred shouting seeps from between a door halfway down and accompanied by a loud crash. Our door. Dax tries to hold me back but I twist my grip free, running the length of the carpeted corridor. He could have caught me but I know Dax. He doesn’t try to hold me back. Instead, he appears to press the keycard to the lock. As the light blinks green, I shove my way inside.

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