Page 43 of Roots of the Wicked

“Fuck, you can eat some pussy,” she stated as her hips swiveled, chasing my exploring tongue. “You make it easy because you taste so good,” I replied, before diving back in. She persisted in praising how good I was fucking her with my tongue, chanting her delight between clinched teeth as her fingers massaged my scalp and slipped through my hair.

“Your damn tongue! Fuck!” She shoved my head into her scorching folds, so hard, I could hardly breathe. Each time my tongue would dip low and slide across the star of her ass, I was rewarded with a loud roaring “fuck” from her. If there was one thing I learned, you weren’t eating pussy right if you didn’t eat everything.

“That’s it. I want you to drown in it,” she sang.

I devoured my feast. Her reaction was the kind of motivation that drove me to please her better, harder, faster.

“Holy Fuck! Chase!” She screamed as her nails bit into my neck. Her legs fluttered against my shoulders. Her free hand clawed into the couch. Her shivers alerted that she was at the precipice of sexual bliss.

When I sucked her clit along with the piercing into my mouth, she screamed like an obsessed fan. “Chase. Yes! Yes! So good,” she edged out after a series of loud exhausting moans. I kept going after I had licked and sucked every drop of the orgasm from her.

She didn’t stop me, even as her body fought to stabilize itself. A minute later she was coming again, and I lapped up every drop of her juices that time too, before I came up for air.

I paid attention to her every move, feeding off her reactions. Jax enjoying my mouth play had my ego floating through her vaulted ceiling.

Through glazed heavy eyes, she cast a sly smile dipped in seduction in my direction as her teeth sank into her bottom lip. Based on the way she stared with dark satisfaction on her face, I had surprised her.

“Damn, Chase. Shit.” It sounded like a compliment to me. “Such a deliciously nasty mouth. Such a splendidly wicked tongue.” She eyed me with an appreciative gleam, enticing my smile to grow.

I reached up to her shoulder and let my fingers trace the tattoo I was fascinated with. She was insanely beautiful. Something you marveled, and I didn’t take my place in her life for granted. I sat back on my haunches and soaked her in, savoring her presence.

I lingered on my knees until the stiffness in my dick deflated. Her eyes were on me the entire time as she used her foot, rubbing it gently, up and down the outside of my thigh. It seemed she understood she needed to calm me.

Once I was satisfied that I had captured her image and saved it to memory, I stood and headed into her kitchen. Her neck twisted in a hurry, following my departure. I had promised myself in the car that I would make this night all about her. The deep well of sorrow she tried to hide when she mentioned her childhood and feeling her shaking on the floor of my car had shown me a vulnerable side she hid behind her tough personality.

Every part of herself that she would let slip, every piece she shared, and every portion that seeped out, I was cataloging. I wanted Jax, top to bottom, inside and out.

It was extremely difficult to refrain from satisfying my own needs, but I was doing better than I assumed I would. Opening her refrigerator, I took a bottle of water and returned to the couch.

She hadn’t moved an inch, the low shaven airstrip on her pretty pussy was on display, summoning me for another round. I couldn’t not touch her. I sat close and reached for her hand.

“Come here. I thought women like to cuddle after sex?” We shared a smile at my comment, but I did want her in my arms.

“Not me. I would like to make you too tired to even think about something as lame and punkish as cuddling.”

My head dropped in laughter. I had never met such a hard-hitting woman in my life. However, I sensed her hard exterior was her main line of defense against me. I was breaking down her walls, making her deflect my advances. The process required patience, and Jax, assuming who I was, had no idea I had it in abundance. I had decided. She was going to be my woman; she just didn’t know it yet.

“Come here. Please. I promise I won’t be lame or punkish.”

She closed her dress with a huff, zipping it most of the way up before she slid closer. I believe she enjoyed being around me as much as I enjoyed her company, but her ego wouldn’t allow her to admit it to herself.

When she drew close enough, I didn’t give her a choice, I relaxed into the arm of the couch with her tucked tight against my chest. Thankfully, she didn’t fight me on the matter because I had no intention of letting her go.

Jax had lured me into her world and appeared to have no idea how deep. I was falling for her, but it was too quick. I couldn’t reveal that feelings had crept into our situation from the first moment I touched her across my boardroom table. She would think I was crazy. Being irrational. Reacting off sexual attraction. I didn’t believe I was.

We went on and talked into the early morning hours, about business, my college years and hers. We debated everything from the difference in pay among men and women in the work force, to the economy impacting life and death with respect to affordable medical care.

I enjoyed hearing stories about Lena James, who Jax had been friends with since she had been a freshman in college. Lena sounded like a character, and I couldn’t wait to meet her. When Jax spoke of her I could easily see the caring glint in her eyes. Learning that Lena was born a man that was in the process of saving for her gender reassignment surgery did make me wonder about Jax’s friends.

She had mentioned that her friends list was small and based on what she revealed, TK and Lena were the only people, other than her father, that she let get close. Getting information out of Jax about her life was difficult, but I was determined and tonight had been my biggest breakthrough.

The next thing I knew, and way too soon, the sun’s rays were enticing me to open my eyes. We had talked all night, so we had only been asleep for a few hours. Glancing down, I smiled at the sight of my new blanket. For someone who described cuddling as “lame and punkish,” she was snug atop me with her face buried in my chest. Reluctant to disrupt her comfort, I didn’t want to wake her and became blissfully content watching her sleep.

It had taken her a while to finally get settled as she’d had a couple of bouts of mouthing rapid Spanish and twitching in her sleep. Although they were low murmurs, her unconscious cries were so desperate at one point, I started a soothing stroke up and down her back. She didn’t find much peace in her sleep and as badly as I wanted to question her, for now, I believed it was best not to push the issue.

Feeling her body pressed into mine kept a smile on my face. She was so warm and fit perfectly against me, her body folding into my side. My shoulder had become her pillow as the top of her head rested there.

She stirred awake, but didn’t bolt like I expected her to, since technically, we were doing something couples would do.

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