Page 102 of Undisputed Player
She took the opportunity the slide her hands beneath my shirt, fingers catching my nipples, making my breath hitch and cock twitch.
But first, I needed something from her.
“My little liar needs to come?” I asked, positioning her back on her hands and knees, ignoring her reaching hands for my chest. My cock slid back into her cunt with delicious ease.
She nodded eagerly, moaning as she spoke. "Please, just let me come. I'm begging you."
"Then move in with me," I grunted, my voice thick with need and hope. "Say you'll move in with me and Leo. Say you'll let me protect you both."
“Okay,” she gasped without hesitation, pushing her ass back against me desperately. "Yes, I'll move in with you. I'll do whatever you want. Just please?—"
"Please, what?" I demanded, my hand finally, finally, findingher swollen clit.
"Please make me come," she sobbed, her body trembling with need. "Please, Jax. I need you."
The moment my fingers made contact with her sensitive nub, giving it a few deep rubs, she screamed, her body convulsing with the force of her release. Her pussy clenched around my cock, milking me as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her.
"That's it," I groaned, feeling my own control snap. "Come for me, princess. Come for the man who's going to take care of you forever."
Her orgasm triggered my own, and I spilled into the condom with a roar of satisfaction, my body shuddering as I claimed her completely.
We collapsed together, both breathing hard, our bodies still trembling with aftershocks. I pulled her against my chest, pressing soft kisses to her sweat-damp hair.
She was finally ready to be claimed completely. And I was never letting her go.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Jax
The gym was a cathedral of violence this morning, shadows and steel under the lights. The place was heavy with the scent of old sweat, leather, and the metallic tang of blood that never quite washed out of the mats. I wrapped my hands, each loop of tape a ritual, a promise of pain to come.
Connor was already destroying the heavy bag, his fists landing with the sound of sledgehammers on bone. Each punch was a masterpiece of controlled brutality.
“Killer's been at it for an hour," Adrian announced from his perch on the bench, lime green cropped tank riding up to show the full gallery of ink covering his abs. His brown hair stuck up at odd angles, and those green eyes gleamed with barely contained chaos. "Think he's imagining someone who looked at Bee wrong?”
I chuckled, flexing my fingers to test the wrap. “They’re probably already dead.”
Adrian's grin turned feral. "Good point. Maybe he's imagining thenext one." He bounced to his feet, stretching out like a cat. “Surprised you showed up, though. Thought your girl might have locked you up.”
I smirked, rolling my shoulders. The memory of Estelle pinned beneath me, the gun between her lips, the way she'd finally surrendered completely, sent heat straight to my dick.
"Some of us had important negotiations to get through.”
"Negotiations?" Connor asked without breaking rhythm, each punch landing with devastating force. His voice carried that dry sarcasm he never lost.
“Estelle's moving in," I announced, stepping into the ring. The words tasted like victory.
Adrian's hands paused mid-stretch. "Wait, what? When did this happen?"
"Last night." I caught the gloves he tossed me one-handed. "After I worked some sense into her."
Connor's lips twitched in rare amusement, probably knowing what I really meant. He finally stepped away from the bag, his massive frame giving me a once-over. “You look different.”
"Different how?" I asked, though I had an idea. There was something settled in my chest now, something that hadn't been there before. Purpose. Possession. The satisfaction of a predator who'd finally claimed his territory and been claimed in return.
"Domestic," Adrian supplied helpfully, dodging the glove I threw at his head. "Like a house cat who just ate the canary."
“House cats don't eat canaries, you psychotic fuck."
