Page 8 of Study Games

Three. Hours.

“No. No, I’m not all right,” I assured him, trying to back up, and found I couldn’t.

It wasn’t just my hands or my arms or my legs. He still had me trapped, just in a different position than before. A different predicament. I didn’t understand this one, didn’t know what his endgame looked like.

If I’d been unnerved before, now Jax just scared the shit out of me.

Trying not to tremble in his arms, I twisted about and only succeeded in swiveling on the spot. His arms still wrapped around me, pressing my back to his front. I stared out at rows and rows of books and, because it was late on a Sunday evening, there was no one at all around to witness his unwanted manhandling.

Then why aren’t I screaming?

Because some stupid part of me wanted Jax’s attention. Wasn’t that why I’d come over here in the first place, to get him to stop staring and talk to me? That had been the point…right? I groaned at the uselessness of my suicide mission as he laughed softly in my ear, running his hands over the front of my clothing.

“Too much, Waverly. You don’t need all this on. I promise you.” His voice made silky promises I wanted to believe so hard.

So, so badly.

Bad enough that I whimpered when he pushed my hair aside, hooked his fingers into the high collar of my turtleneck knitted top beneath my constricting vest that looked cute before, albeit a little warm, but cute nonetheless but strangled me now.

Deftly, he pulled the material I used as a shield between me and everything else aside to suck on the exposed skin beneath.

“You should stop,” I whispered hoarsely. “Jax, we don’t match up. Not in any way. I’m not some heiress or princess you’re supposed to–” I stopped, unsure where that line of reasoning was headed as he picked another spot to suck on.

The logic departed me altogether as I let out a long moan.

A good thing, in the end, as the embarrassing sound covered the horrific squelch that emitted from between my legs. Heat gushed there with the long tease I’d let happen, not getting up and walking away when I should have left him staring at nothing and not me in the first place.

His knowing laugh made it all so much better and that much worse as I writhed under his touch.

Long fingered hands skated south, and as I thought he might go for the hem of my skirt, I freed my own grip from his arm banded beneath my breasts, ready for the fight. Ever the contradiction, Jax ignored my efforts and slid his fingers smoothly beneath the waistband of my stretchy skirt instead, under my tights and inside my panties.

Straight between my legs and delved two fingers into my wetness.

If I moaned before, the scream I let out should have revoked my library card on the spot.

“Naughty girl,” Jax murmured huskily, working his fingers in and out of the evidence I could no longer deny either of us.

Those clever fingers toyed with me, though his movements were restricted by my tight clothing that seemed determined to punish me for trying to protect myself. The layers worked against me, trapping his hand to my body, increasing the pressure. The heel of his palm ground against my clit as he worked in a hard, rough rhythm I learned fast to hate and love all at once.

My body responded as I rode his hand. His other digits caught my chin and drew my head back, tipping my face right up until his mouth hovered over mine, intimate enough that his breath out was the next I breathed in. My shuddering, shattered exhales became his air as we froze in a moment until the world frayed bright then dark at the edges.

A sharp cry broke from my lips, shattering the stillness between us. I clamped down on his fingers, and he let me ride out my orgasm without denying me. Some part of me was grateful for that break in his torture, knowing he could–almost should, if he held to his usual tease–have drawn it out. My body pressed to his, I curved my cheek into his chest, turning my head to flicker my tongue out along his throat.

Musky sweat and leather suffused my mouth as I begged for a kiss, my lips parted, every inch of my body soft and inviting.

Jax froze. When he looked down at me, his eyes were blown black with need. A vicious snarl ripped from his throat as he yanked his hand free from my panties. The same hand, wet hand slick with my release wrapped around my throat, restricting my air and my speech. He shoved me back against the wall he had leaned on for the past hours, stalking me from a distance.

Worst. Mistake. Ever.

But was it? He glared at me, all need and lust written across the snarl lifting his lips. I did the only thing I could think of, leaning forward against the pressure that bore down, cutting off my own air until shock registered on his face and he let me breathe as I pressed my mouth gently to his.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

His answering groan ignited something in me. Him, too.

That hot mouth crashed down on mine, his tongue thrust deep between my open lips, fucking me with his tongue. This wasn’t a sweet kiss, one where I could learn what he liked. This was a kiss to endure, to find a way to give him pleasure while I submitted and he took.

His hands squeezed my thick waist, pressing in as he molded his body to mine, grinding against me. His bulge met my swollen clit where he tormented me and though he’d given me satisfaction seconds ago it was like that never happened.

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