Page 87 of Jax
He wasn’t talking about tape. He was talking about me, unmasked, unguarded, trembling under the full weight of being seen. He moved closer, not touching, but close enough that I could feel his breath syncing with mine.
When he lifted another strip from the nightstand, he held it like it meant something more than restraint. “Are you ready for more?”
It wasn’t about tape. It wasn’t about paper. It was about the space he’d opened, and whether I’d let him step deeper into it. I already had.
“Yes,” I whispered, because there wasn’t a reality where I didn’t want him closer.
“Good girl,” he said, voice warm enough to undo me. My knees nearly buckled.
He knelt again, fingers steady, eyes soft but unrelenting, moving not with speed but worship. He placed the next strip high on my thigh, just beneath the curve where the ache turned hungry. His knuckles brushed the edge of my panties, barely, but my hips jolted, instinct overriding restraint. He didn’t react, just sealed the tape in place and leaned in until his mouth hovered where his hand had been.
Then he licked me. Slow. Decadent. Intentional. His tongue dragged across the skin beside the paper like he meant to live there, and the sound that tore from me was sharp and real. My knees dipped, hands grasping for anything solid.
Jax looked up, lips parted, eyes dark with intent. “You feel that?”
I nodded, barely breathing.
“Want me to do it again?”
“Yes.” It left my lips like a prayer—needy, reverent, wrecked.
But he didn’t. Not yet. He just exhaled, and the heat of his breath skimmed between my thighs, close enough to torment, never enough to satisfy. “You’re wet, aren’t you?” he murmured, voice thick with ruin. “And I haven’t even touched you. Just my mouth. Just breath.”
A whimper escaped before I could hide it, and he smiled like he’d just confirmed something sacred. “All that power around your wrists,” he said, “and you’re already begging, and I haven’t even moved.”
I tried to speak, tried to claw back a sliver of control with something clever, but he didn’t let me.
“You want me to wreck you slowly,” he whispered, “with nothing but want and intention. Don’t you, baby?”
He was right. I didn’t even pretend otherwise.
“Tell me what you need,” he said, his gaze locked on the tremble running through me. “Say it.”
“I… I don’t know. I want… you. I need you. Please, Jax. I need you.” My mind was beginning to get cloudy, and it was hard to put words together.
He chuckled, low and devastating. “Dealer’s choice it is, wicked girl.”
His hand skimmed my hip as he stood, dragging fire in his wake. “You sure you’re ready for what that honesty sounds like?”
“Try me.”
He leaned in again, his breath brushing my collarbone, fingers drifting slow along my thigh, hovering just above the lace. “I want to take you apart so slowly you beg for mercy you don’t really want,” he said, each word landing heavy as heat. “I want to kiss you until you forget every reason you were ever scared to be touched.”
It wasn’t seduction. It was scripture. Something reverent and wrecking that curled in deep and stayed. I swayed into him, already undone, but he stepped back, not punishing, just letting the ache breathe.
“This isn’t about rushing. It’s about proving you can take every slow second of being wanted.”
Then he smiled, and it was full of fire—tender, lethal, consuming. That smile faded, swallowed by the heat in his eyes as he moved, deliberate and silent, every step a study in restraint.
He didn’t speak again. Just pressed his hand between my thighs, cupping me through thin cotton with a pressure so steady, so devastatingly still, I almost buckled. There was no rhythm, no motion. Just his palm, warm and unmoving, holding me exactly where I ached the most.
My hips twitched for more, for anything, but he didn’t give it. His restraint made me feel more exposed than if he’d stripped me bare.
“If the paper breaks,” he murmured, “this ends.”
My bound wrists trembled, but I didn’t move.
“But if it doesn’t…” He leaned in, mouth brushing my temple, breath tracing heat across my cheek. “I’ll make you sob for me.”
