Page 178 of The Last Good Man

I feel him deep inside me, hard, thick, and wet.

My nails claw at the concrete every time he rams into me.

How can something so violent feel so good?

He rocks his hips hard, not sparing me, not allowing me to voice my pleasure or say anything.

Not that I have anything to say.

I witness my dissolution, sweat popping over my hairline before dripping down my neck.

My dress won’t survive another round.

With my heels firmly planted on the floor, my calves hurt, and my muscles are sore.

None of that pain can stop this madness.

I claw at his hand this time. I just need to connect with him in some way, but his hand stays solidly on my mouth before he picks up the pace and crushes my clit, stroking it with flair and passion.

We’re both climbing when voices ring around the corner.

I jerk, and he tightens his hand around my mouth, not easing his grip or slowing his rhythm.

“Don’t do anything,” he says, his lips pressed against my ear as he continues plunging into me with force.

Despite not doing anything, I hear Emile not far from us.

He’s talking to the manager, holding him accountable for my disappearance. The man tries to be polite and explain to him––the ass Emile can be––that they don’t have any surveillance cameras in the bar, especially in front of the restroom, and I can’t be far away.

He has no idea.

I’m sweating like crazy, getting pounded by a twenty-four, soon-to-be twenty-five-year-old, tattooed ex-convict, and he is so damn fine. I wish I could spend the entire night right here with him fucking me up against the wall.

The voice of reason blares in my head that soon, those people will start looking for me, and they may be in for the surprise of their lives.

Jax has no problem with the dialogue or the prospect of getting caught.

Eventually, Emile takes his grievances elsewhere, and the manager tries to appease him by promising to have someone search for me.

The second their voices fade, the surge becomes unbearable, the finish unavoidable.

He moves fast, entering me deep and hard, and I become undone before him, the pleasure exploding like fireworks.

MELODY

Moments later

I grip the sink’s edge and look in the mirror.

Even if everything was flawless and in its place, I could still tell I just had sex.

And what the hell was that? What he did to me.

I run, trembling fingers over my lips, short breaths filling my chest.

My dress is back on, the hemline hitting where it’s supposed to while my zipper is closed.

My panties are wet, smelling like him.

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