Page 38 of Jax
“Take every drop, Lark,” I ordered, looking over her shoulder, my eyes locked on where our bodies met, watching her stretch around me. “Gotta make sure you’re bred, baby. You’re mine. Inside and out. Don’t forget it.”
Her whimper turned into a broken moan, her fingers scrabbling for purchase on my thighs as I pushed in just a little more, my hands splayed over her chest and holding her tight against me. Refusing to let her move, keeping her locked on my cock until the last pulse faded.
She was practically boneless, her chest rising and falling hard, tits spilling through my fingers as I cupped them from behind. Her skin was damp, her silky hair stuck to her neck, and when she tipped her head back to look up at me, her eyes were glazed and lips swollen.
“So fucking beautiful,” I murmured.
Her mouth curled up into a sweet smile. “And all yours.”
“Damn straight.” I chuckled and kissed her softly before carefully shifting our bodies until we were lying on our sides, Lark’s body held tightly to mine with my cock still buried deep inside her.
I kissed her neck and whispered, “You’re mine, Lark. Always.”
15
JAX
The warehouse sat at the far edge of Crossbend. Corrugated steel panels sagged where the frame had bent under storms years back, windows long gone to brick and plywood. Weeds pushed up through the cracked asphalt, and vines had started to crawl up the southern wall.
I crouched in the weeds a hundred yards out from the fence line, laptop open, fans whirring. The hum of the code I’d written was steady and silent. Perfect.
Cameras inside—dead. Alarms—cut. Cell towers in a two-mile radius—jammed. For anyone holed up inside, the world just went dark.
The list in my head had been shrinking for days, names slashed off one by one until this was all that was left. Everyone tied to the loose ends of Lark’s case. Every motherfucker who thought they could keep a leash on her.
No one could leave this building alive. Not if I wanted Lark to truly be free.
I shut the lid, exhaled, and signaled Kane. He moved like a shadow across the gravel, tall and steady, his eyes sharp even in the dark. Edge flanked the other side of him, grinning likehe already smelled fire, but his eyes had a hard glint. Nitro was just a step behind, calm and coiled, while Fury lingered near the back, all watchful silence. Two prospects—Kip and Johnny—held rear, nervous as dogs in a thunder storm, but quiet like they’d been trained. Their job was to learn, not lead.
Drift and Axle were back at the clubhouse, standing guard over what mattered most.
“Status,” Kane murmured.
“Dark inside,” I replied, tucking the laptop into my pack. “Cameras dead, intercom dead, alarms dead. Comms jammed to the tree line. If they shout for help, they’re only talking to crickets and snakes.”
Edge flicked his favorite knife through his fingers. “Time for fireworks.”
Nitro’s mouth curved. “Good. Been too fucking long since I got to light a fuse.”
“Stay focused,” Kane cut in. “We’re not here to play.”
Nitro smirked but said nothing more.
Prez turned to me again. “You get eyes?”
“Thermals went blind with everything else, but the heat map I cached before I flipped the switch says at least eight bodies on the floor and two up in the office catwalk. Plus a couple in the back rooms. They were lazy. Or cocky.” I felt my mouth twist. “I like cocky.”
Kane’s beard shifted with the ghost of a smile. “You always did.”
My pulse was steady, though a part of me thrummed hot under the surface. We moved. Silent and stealthy, weapons tucked against our bodies as we slipped across the gravel lot. It was an acre of open exposure, but we hugged the long-dead trucks hoisted up onto blocks, slid behind disintegrating crates, and crossed in the pockets of darkness cast by broken lights. Thehumidity sat heavy and thick with the storm rolling in from the gulf.
Nitro padded to the man-door on the loading bay and crouched to set a matte brick against the latch, armed it with a twist, and looked up. Kane gave a nod. Nitro’s thumb pressed.
The lock went with a muffled thud under Nitro’s charge, and the door shrugged open a half inch.
Fury slipped through the breach first, rifle sweeping, then Kane. Edge and I split wide, with the prospects on our heels. Inside, the dark opened into rows of crates and machinery, the bones of an old, forgotten factory.
The silence seemed artificial, like every man in the vicinity was holding their breath.
