Page 96 of Jax

“Good answer.” Jax grinned. “But bad girls don’t get what they want.”

Jax rose to his knees, pulling away from my hips. The warmth of his body was replaced by a cold breeze and even that was almost enough to make me come right there and then. He had just played with my nipples, and a mild breeze almost had me tipping over the edge.

“Nuh-uh-uh,” Jax teased, his hands pushing apart my thighs until both were curled around his hips.

I tried to pull him closer, the buckle of the belt rattling against the wood. “Jax…,” I whined, wishing I could escape from this damn thing and take what I needed.

With a small push down on the waistband of his boxers, his cock sprung free from the elastic. It was angry and red, and the black revolver tattoo covered its shaft.

I wonder what he was thinking when he decided to get that one.

Jax shuffled forward until he was so close that my legs had slid up and over his shoulders due to my inflexibility. One hand held one of my thighs, the other wrapped tight around his shaft, giving it one hard tug before dipping it between my folds.

“Apologize. For real this time,” Jax growled, his cock poised at my entrance.

The anticipation was so overwhelming that I could barely get the words out and tears rolled down my cheeks at the fear I wouldn’t be able to say it. That I wouldn’t be able to get my release. But just as I thought it wouldn’t arrive, the soft, small words escaped. “I’m sorry!” I whined. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m—”

Jax’s cock slammed home.

I screamed.

With all the passion from our first time, I hadn’t had time to adjust to the huge size of him, and I wasn’t given that luxury this time either. He bottomed out and slammed back in all the way to the hilt. His pubic hairs brushed against my shorter ones and the rough rub of them against each other had my insides clenching around him.

“Fuck, Ronnie,” Jax grunted with each slap. I’m sure he tried to repeat it, but it dissolved into just hard, frustrated growls of pleasure, pushing me past my limits and higher than I ever thought I could go.

If I thought Jax had been teasing me with my nipples earlier, I was so wrong as he brushed against my G-spot again and again without hitting it. I was rising and rising with no sign of coming down. I was suffocating in pleasure, muscles crying out in pain and eyes streaming with tears.

Jax shoved his body forward, my hips almost slamming into my nose, and with a loud, echoing snap, the leather from my hands dropped to the bed and I was released.

“Hold onto me,” Jax snapped, dropping back on his haunches, hands going to my hips.

My hands cried out in pain as I tore them from the fisted sheets and lurched around his neck and back. My nails dug into his skin and Jax’s head pressed into the nape of my neck as his heavy blows to my vagina quickened into a thundering, racing beat.

“Jax!” I cried, digging my nails in harder into his skin until I felt the small trickle of blood.

“Come!” Jax snapped, and on command, I flew over the edge.

I cried out with such force no noise came out, my vagina feeling like it had exploded into a thousand little pieces, my body rippling with the overwhelming, electric pleasure that turned me to stone before I melted into molten liquid.

My hands slipped from his neck, dropping into the soft sheets. My limbs shook like a broken-in horse, my energy drained and my head whirling with such a heavy delirium I wouldn’t have even been able to say my name.

“Fuck,” Jax coughed, dropping down to the side of me. His chest galloped a million miles per hour as he spread out, defeated and worn.

“Yeah…,” I mumbled.

Jax gave a tired chuckle.

After a few more minutes of panting breaths and radiating heat filling the room, Jax somehow managed to have the energy to turn onto his side and face me.

“Am I forgiven then? For not tying you up?” Jax reached up to brush a sticky piece of hair that had caught in my mouth. I was as soggy as a tree after a storm, but Jax didn’t care, his body coated in the same sheen of sweat.

“Only if I’m forgiven for being a wimpy girl about it.”

His dark eyes crinkled in amusement.

“Babe, if I’ve learned anything over my twenty-nine years of life, it’s that there’s no such thing as a wimpy girl. You lot are strong as stone.”

“Stone can be broken,” I whispered, catching his softened gaze. His mellowed aura bled into me, and even at the weakness in my voice, he didn’t give me a single look of pity or rejection.

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