Page 95 of Jax

Jax smiled, pleased with my insult. Weirdo.

“But I get it.” I nodded, watching his face sober up into the serious Jax that had just confessed all his concerns to me. He was honest with me. Here I was being all stupid and frustrated on my own, and Jax had been worried about me all this time. I had been selfish.

“I’m sorry for pushing you.”

I reached for the buttons of my shirt, beginning to pull them back together.

“I don’t think you are,” a deep, vibrational growl had goosebumps prickling over my skin.

“What?” I mumbled, looking up to see the eyes of an animal. The eyes of a predator.

“I don’t think you’re sorry enough,” Jax growled, the muscles under his skin rippling as he rose onto his all fours and leaned in close, arm moving past me. The faint stench of his sweat and scent was closing in on my face, my eyes unable to look away from his lips as he drew closer.

The sharp marks he left made me all too aware of the slight heat they still radiated. I clung to that faint pain and my breath quickened.

Did he mean…?

Jax leaned back with something in his hands. Something I hadn’t noticed he was reaching for.

The belt.

“Um, Jax…?” I fumbled, my brain going haywire with the heat rising from the tips of my toes all the way up to the roots of my hair.

“Hands forward,” he snapped, and, fuck, it made me jump so hard the bed almost sprang me back up. Was he being serious?

I looked to his face, and whatever soft and gentle Jax had once been there was long gone. This one had the eyes of a crow. Dark and calculating. And intimidating.

“Hands,” he demanded.

My hands were out in front of me without a second thought, the sternness of his voice leaving no room for refusal. Jax didn’t give me any approval as he looked down at my extended hands. Instead, he took the belt, and with rough, precise movements, wound the leather around my wrists. My eyes traced the movements as I became aware of the leather on my skin tightening with every gesture until he threaded it through the buckle and pulled it tight.

I gasped. The leather dug into my skin and made me grit my teeth against the pinch. It bordered on chafing, but it wasn’t enough for me to want to stop.

He held me by the hands and pulled them high up above my head. I pushed up onto my knees to adjust from the discomfort, my eyes unable to look away from his. He followed his own hand and the second I wobbled in his grasp, he shoved his hands forward, pushing me backward.

I hit the bed hard, my hips and tits bouncing back up from the springy mattress as the huge man straddled on top of me.

Wood pressed into the edges of wrists, and I realized he had slipped the belt and my hands around the bedpost. I was tied.

“Now,” Jax growled, looking down at my exposed, stretched body, vulnerable and ready for the taking. “How about a real apology?”

“I’m so—” I squealed at the sharp pinch of my nipple, my chest bucking from the bed, rubbing my hips into his crotch. He seated his hips lower until the thin material of his boxers pressed down on top of my mound. Not enough weight to feel heavy but enough to keep me firm against the bed.

“Again,” Jax demanded.

“I’m sor—” He pinched again, and this time, the sharp pain went straight down to my crotch, causing all my muscles to clench and a desperate, shocked gasp to burst from my lips.

Jax’s expression didn’t change.

Tears welled in my eyes, but that didn’t stop him from demanding another apology. He was unrelenting and despite every sorry I gave, I was punished with a sharp pinch to my nipples.

“What a pretty color,” Jax murmured, his finger soothing over the swollen, throbbing nipples. I jerked at his touch, wondering how I became this stimulated despite the pain. He leaned down, sucking one into his mouth.

I whimpered, earning a flick of a tongue before Jax popped the nub out of his mouth. He made his way over to the other one and I wiggled beneath him.

“You had enough yet?”

I opened my mouth, the “yes” so desperate to come out and free myself from this torture. “No…,” I whined. My throbbing pussy took over my body, the hot wet mess trying to rub against the bottom of his underwear in desperation. Something to collapse the building of need that had grown inside of me with every pinch. I had never thought of myself as a masochist, but with each nip and sharp pain, I had thrown away my unease for pleasure. How could something so painful feel so good?

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