Page 97 of Jax

“Fine.” Jax huffed. “The strongest metal. Or the strongest gem stone. A diamond. You girls like diamonds, right?”

“Ha,” I laughed, the action causing a hot ache to flood across my body. Exercise was tough. “Now you’re treading into sexist territory.”

Jax mocked a gasp, throwing his dark hand to his chest. “I would never.”

I mustered up my shallow reserve of energy to give him a little push with my hand. Of course, he didn’t pretend to be a little off balance at my pathetic shove.

Instead, he caught my wrist, the touch making me hiss at the light sting shooting down my arm. Jax gave the red marks a look of contempt.

“What’s wrong?”

Jax’s finger traced the mark with careful strokes as not to provoke the soreness of my skin. “I don’t like leaving marks; it’s poor craftmanship.”

“Craftsmanship?” I scoffed. “Don’t these kinds of things just come with the kink?”

“No,” Jax shook his head. “Amateurs leave marks. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“I thought BDSM was all about leaving marks on your possessions?”

Jax’s expression flattened. “Please don’t tell me you were reading thatFifty Shades of Crapbook?” His lips pulled tight and he fixed me with such a glare I almost felt uneasy. Not quite. But close.

I shrugged. “No. But Mallory was telling me about it and—”

“Don’t listen to Mallory,” Jax scolded, the pout of his face getting cuter the longer I looked at it. “One, no girl is a possession. Sure, they can belong to someone, but that’s only if they want to. Our old ladies belong to us, but they can do whatever they like. They’re not an object someone can pick up and throw away as they please.”

That had my respect flying high up the charts for the men in the club. When I’d heard about the old ladies being “owned” by the men by wearing their name on their backs, it had unsettled me for sure. Being owned by a man was the last thing I wanted… something I’d been too familiar with. I wanted an equal relationship with my partner. Someone who I could depend on to have my back, even if I had nothing to offer. Someone who I’d offer the same courtesy too. I wasn’t a trophy wife, and I wasn’t meant to be a display for man’s ego.

But now hearing that explanation and meeting the women who were as happy as could be with their respective partners made me think I had misjudged the Black Angels and what they stood for. Maybe their culture wasn’t such a dirty thing after all?

“And two, a real master can leave marks deeper than on the skin,” Jax whispered, his voice dropping low with that husky growl as one finger ran up the line of my stomach. “The ones only the M can see.” He stopped just beneath my breast, but my breath had already quickened, and my aching clit throbbed at his light touch.

Jax watched the reaction with those dark, sinful eyes before he broke away and it turned into a satisfied smile.

“See?”

I tutted. “All right, asshole.” I flicked his hand away, and with energy I didn’t have, I pushed myself up to stand.

“Where are you running off to?” Jax grumbled, sitting up on the edge of the bed.

“A shower. You left a little present for me to clean up.” I pointed down to the wetness I felt dripping down the inside of my leg.

Jax gave it a look of pure satisfaction. But it only lasted a second, before his face fell like a white sheet.

“Shit.” He jerked from the bed, causing me to jump back in surprise. “You’re on birth control, right?”

A sharp sting knotted deep in my chest, my brows furrowing at his reaction.

“No!” Jax snapped, running to my side, hands capturing my arms in a gentle but firm grasp. He lowered his head until the small difference in height was gone and looked me in the eyes. “Don’t be upset. I mean, I want kidseventually. But we just started, you know, being us and I’m not ready to be changing diapers, and the crying, and the lack of sex and—” Jax’s panicked expression quickly turned into one of frustration. “Why are you laughing at me?”

“Fuck,” I wheezed, the silent gasp for air like a glass of cold water in the desert as I could barely contain myself. “I just got a little offended and thenthatcomes out your mouth… It’s too funny.”

I reached up to wipe tears from my eyes as Jax scowled, his sweat-coated hair falling in front of his eyes at the reappearance of that little pout. Jax, not being the type to do nothing when being ridiculed, struck back. Literally.

I squealed at the harsh, throbbing hand mark burning into my ass. “Jax!” I yelped, my laughter having been shocked out of me.

“Go get your shower before I change my mind about having kids right now.”

I wanted to turn around and bite his head off for the mark on my ass.A master doesn’t leave marks—Yeah, right, asshole. But I knew when my luck was pushed and from the flinch across his bemused expression, I could see Jax’s alter ego enjoyed my little reaction.

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