Page 16 of Falling for the Bad Boy Firefighter
"Trust me?" he asks.
I nod, unable to speak past the lump in my throat. His jaw clenches as he reaches for his jeans, retrieving a small foil packet from his wallet. The sight of him dropping his jeans, revealing the full extent of his cock, sends a fresh wave of heat through me.
When he settles between my thighs again, the blunt head of him pressing against my entrance, he pauses, searching my face. "This might hurt at first," he warns softly.
I nod, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. "I know. I want you, Jax. All of you."
He kisses me then, deep and thorough, as he pushes forward slowly, letting my body adjust to the unfamiliar stretch. There's pressure, a brief sting that makes me tense, but his gentle kisses and murmured encouragements help me relax.
"You okay?" he asks when he's fully seated within me, his voice strained with the effort of holding still.
I nod, feeling strangely full but also complete in a way I never have before. "Yes," I whisper. "Don't stop."
His first movements are gentle, careful, his eyes never leaving my face as he watches for any sign of discomfort. But as my body adjusts, pleasure begins to build again, and I find myself moving with him, seeking more.
"Penny," he groans, his pace increasing. "You feel so good. So perfect."
His words, raw and honest, inflame me further. I wrap my legs around his hips, drawing him deeper, and the change in angle tears a cry from my throat as he hits a spot inside me that sends sparks shooting through my veins.
"There," I gasp. "Right there."
Jax growls, his movements becoming more urgent.
One hand slides between us, finding where we're joined, his thumb circling the sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of my thighs.
The stimulation is overwhelming. I cling to him, my nails digging into the muscles of his back as the pressure builds again, higher and sharper than before.
"Come for me," he urges, his voice rough with exertion. "Let me feel you."
His words push me over the edge. I shatter around him, crying out his name as pleasure crashes over me in waves. Jax follows moments later, his body tensing above me, a groan torn from his throat as he finds his own release.
For long moments afterward, we remain joined, our breathing gradually slowing. Jax's weight is a comforting pressure, his face buried in the curve of my neck. I run my fingers through his hair, marveling at the intimacy of the moment.
When he finally lifts his head, the tenderness in his eyes nearly undoes me all over again.
"Are you okay?" he asks softly.
I smile, feeling a strange new confidence blooming inside me. "I'm perfect."
The smile he gives me then—warm and genuine, without a trace of his usual guardedness—makes my heart skip.
"Yes," he murmurs, pressing a gentle kiss to my lips. "You are."
And for the first time in my life, I believe it.
Chapter 7 – Jax
The morning sunlight filters through the faded curtains of Penny's little boathouse, painting golden stripes across her. I've been awake for nearly an hour, just watching her—the gentle rise and fall of her chest, the way her golden hair spills across the pillow, the slight curve of her lips even in sleep. Like she's dreaming of something good.
Maybe she's dreaming of me. The thought still feels foreign, impossible. Yet here we are.
I trace the freckles on her shoulder with my fingertip, connecting them like constellations. She stirs slightly, murmuring something incoherent before settling deeper into the pillow. I can't help the smile that tugs at my lips. Penny Clark—town sweetheart, keeper of history, and apparently a heavy sleeper—is in my arms.
Last night replays in my mind, the memory of her soft skin under my hands, the way she trusted me completely, the sounds she made when she came apart. But it's more than that. It's the way she looked at me afterward, like I was something precious instead of damaged goods. Like I was exactly where I belonged.
No one's ever looked at me like that before.
Carefully, I slide out of bed, tucking the blanket around Penny's curves. She mumbles something in protest but doesn't wake. I pull on my jeans and pad barefoot into the small living area, checking my phone to find it lit up with notifications.
