Page 7 of Stuffed

"Oh god, Jax, yes! Right there, don't stop!" she pants, grinding against my face. I seal my lips around her clit and suckle hard, plunging two fingers deep into her tight channel.

Claire unravels with a keening wail, her virgin pussy clenching rhythmically around my fingers as the orgasm tears through her. I lap at her greedily, prolonging her ecstasy, until she sags back against the counter, utterly spent.

Slowly, I rise to my feet, licking her essence from my lips. Claire watches me with hooded eyes, her chest heaving. I lean in, claiming her mouth in a filthy kiss, letting her taste herself on my tongue.

She moans into the kiss, clutching at my shoulders. I'm painfully hard, my cock straining insistently against my zipper, but I force myself to pull back. I want her in my bed for what comes next.

And then the fucking timer goes off on the oven.

three

. . .

Claire

The kitchen timersounds with a loud buzz, jolting me from the dreamy haze of peeling potatoes side by side with Jax. He mutters a curse under his breath.

"Hang on," he says, quickly adjusting the oven dials. He turns back to me, his eyes smoldering at me like melted chocolate. "Let's put this on warm for now."

My heart flutters as he takes my hand, his skin warm and slightly rough against mine. He leads me out of the kitchen and up a narrow wooden staircase, the old steps creaking beneath our feet. With each step, the tension between us builds, electric and palpable, sending shivers racing along my spine.

At the top of the stairs, Jax guides me down a dimly lit hallway to a door at the very end. He produces an old brass key, unlocking the door and gesturing for me to enter. Intrigued, I step inside.

It's his private quarters—a cozy space with sloped ceilings, exposed wooden beams, and a large bed draped in a patchworkquilt. The room is lit only by the soft glow of an antique lamp on the nightstand. The air feels charged, crackling with unspoken desire.

The moment the door clicks shut behind us, Jax turns to me. In one fluid motion, he gently presses me back against the door, one hand cupping my cheek, the other snaking around my waist to draw me close. I catch my breath, pulse hammering in my ears.

"Claire," he murmurs, his lips a hair's breadth from mine. "Tell me you want this too."

In answer, I wind my arms around his neck and pull him down into a searing kiss. His mouth claims mine, hot and hungry, tasting of cinnamon and longing. I pour everything I feel into the kiss—the days of flirting, the aching want, the need flaring bright between us. He groans softly and deepens the kiss, his tongue sliding against mine, igniting sparks behind my closed eyelids.

Every inch of me burns for his touch. I've never wanted anyone like this, with an intensity that borders on desperation. All coherent thought flees my mind as his lips trail fire along my jaw, down the column of my throat.

This is a point of no return. Standing here in Jax's arms, lost in his passionate embrace, I know there will be no going back. Wherever this leads, whatever the consequences, I'm his—mind, body and soul. The realization is terrifying and thrilling all at once.

Jax's talented fingers slowly unzip my dress, each tooth releasing with a soft purr that seems to echo the pounding of my heart. Cool air kisses my overheated skin as the silky fabric parts and pools at my feet. I'm left standing in nothing but my lace bra and panties, shivering under the intensity of his molten gaze.

"God, you're exquisite," he whispers reverently, calloused hands skimming my sides, igniting trails of goosebumps in their wake. "A work of art."

Self-consciousness wars with arousal as I fight the urge to cover myself. But the raw hunger in Jax's eyes chases away any lingering doubts. He looks at me like a man starved, like I'm the most desirable thing he's ever seen.

Emboldened, I reach out to unbutton his shirt, my fingers trembling slightly as I reveal the hard planes of his chest, the roped muscle of his abs. He is strength and power, barely leashed. The air thickens, charged with an electric current of anticipation.

Jax walks me backward until my legs hit the edge of the bed. He lowers me down gently, covering my body with his own, a delicious weight that sets every nerve ending alight. I've never been this close to a man before, skin to skin, heartbeat to drumming heartbeat.

"I'm going to worship every inch of you," Jax promises darkly, his breath hot against my ear. "Until you're begging for release. Until my name is the only word you remember."

He captures my wrists and raises them above my head, pressing them into the pillows in a wordless command to keep them there. I obey instinctively, my body his willing canvas to paint with pleasure.

Then his mouth is everywhere—mapping the curve of my breast, the dip of my navel, the sensitive skin of my inner thigh. He uses lips and tongue and teeth to stoke the fire burning through my veins, higher and hotter, until I'm writhing beneath him, wordless pleas falling from my lips.

No fantasy could have prepared me for the reality of Jax's touch, at once torturously tender and fiercely possessive. He teases and tempts, stoking my arousal to a fever pitch, until I'm teetering on a knife's edge of excruciating bliss.

"Say it," he demands, his voice gruff and rasping against my skin. "Tell me what you want."

"I...I want...more," I gasp out, barely recognizing the needy moan issuing from my own lips.

He chuckles, deep and low, the vibration of his laughter sending fresh shivers through me. "I thought you might say that."

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