Chapter 7
T he moonlight filters into my bedroom, and it’s hotter than it should be for this time of year. I should open a window, but I can’t bring myself to get up—not with the expert tongue currently lapping at my pussy. I’m naked, a light sheen of sweat covering my body.
“Please.” The word escapes me in a breathy plea, though I’m not even sure to whom. My back arches, and my hand trails up my stomach, pausing to trace the curve of my breast.
The growl from the man between my legs is a sound of pure satisfaction. His approval only deepens when I pinch my nipple. His mouth clamps down hard on my clit, and my jaw drops as my breath catches. The pleasure coils deep in my core, a mounting pressure I can’t ignore.
Sucking turns to licking, and two fingers thrust inside me with practiced precision.
God, I can feel how wet I am—even in this dream.
I roll my hips, matching the rhythm of my partner’s skilled movements. I want to open my eyes, to watch him, but they’re so heavy. If I open them, the dream will end before I come, and I can’t have that.
Bang. Bang. Bang. A rhythmic thumping echoes from the wall behind me, faint but unmistakable. Muffled groans and moans follow, distant and distorted, like they’re coming from underwater.
My partner picks up the pace, and so do I, pressing my feet into the mattress to grind against him. A strong hand presses down on my thigh, keeping me open for him. That touch, that control, gives away his identity.
“Jax.” His name is a breathy whisper on my lips. God, this man was put on Earth to eat pussy.
“Open your eyes, Peach.” His breath cools the wet heat between my thighs. He pauses to kiss the inside of my leg, his tongue teasing my sensitive skin. His fingers never falter, their rhythm deliberate and relentless.
“Please, Jax,” I beg, my grip on sleep slipping.
“Look at me, baby. Let me see those beautiful hazel eyes when you come.”
His tongue circles my clit again, a wet, maddening rhythm. My eyes flutter open, and I’m met not with my familiar bedroom, but a ceiling that is a stranger to me. A brown water stain marks one corner, a reminder of a roof long overdue for repairs.
But all thoughts of the shoddy motel vanish when his tongue flicks hard and fast over my clit. His fingers thrust deeper, and I brace myself with one hand on the headboard. My other hand tangles in his hair—it’s just as soft as I remembered.
“Fuck, Jax, don’t stop,” I whine, not caring how desperate I sound. This will be the best orgasm I’ve had since Enzo, and I swear I’ll set this motel on fire if anyone takes it away from me.
Fully awake now, the muffled groans and banging from the next room register clearly. I know that sound. Enzo is fucking Luca, and the walls of my pussy clench at the thought.
“You hear them, baby?” Jax pauses just long enough to torture me with his words.
Enzo’s deep, possessive voice filters through the wall. Luca’s groans follow, breathy and wanton. Then Enzo says, “Good boy,” in a tone that makes me fucking lose it.
Heat floods my body, radiating out from my core as my orgasm overtakes me. My entire body trembles, my cries filling the air. Jax knows I’m coming—of course he does—but I still have to say it, to declare that this award-winning tongue has me unraveling beneath him.
All while my two exes fuck each other into oblivion just a wall away.
It’s real-life Moanster23, and I wish it were in hi-def surround sound. Hell, I wish they were here—with us—so I could watch, hear them clearly… join them.
“Yes, Jax. Keep going.” My hips buck against him as I chase the aftershocks of my orgasm. “Please. Don’t stop.”
I have to be soaking his face. My god, I might actually die from this—and I’d happily march into hell if it meant living off the memory of Jax’s mouth on me.
I’ve thought about this moment a thousand times, replayed it while I made myself come. But nothing compares to the real thing.
As my climax wanes, I reach for him, but he’s already moving. He kisses his way up my body, leaving wet trails along my skin and breasts before his lips claim mine.
“Fuck me, Jax, or I won’t be able to breathe.”
His cock slips into me in one smooth thrust, and we pass our shared moans back and forth as our mouths move in coordination like we never missed a day of this.
I clench around him, and a guttural growl escapes his throat. The rhythmic rock of his hips drives him deep, so deep that I know my next orgasm will hit me like a collapsing building.
“Tell me you missed me, Peach.” His voice is husky, tinged with desperation.
“No.”
I refuse to give him that. He left me standing at the altar like a jackass, clueless about what was happening. He doesn’t get to know how that devastated me, how I cried for him, knowing he couldn’t come back to me.
I rake my nails down his back, and he slams into me harder. “You can lie all you want, sweet Peach, but this pussy won’t lie to me.”
He shifts onto his knees, lifting my pelvis with him, keeping my legs spread for his viewing pleasure. His hands grip my hips tightly, holding me in place as he watches his cock slide in and out of me, slick with my arousal. The sight drives him mad, and I reap the benefits.
“Look how wet you are for me,” he groans, his pace growing wild. “Look at you, split open on my cock, just the way you need it.”
He spits on my clit, and my eyes roll back in my head. God, I missed that move. There’s something about the way Jax spits on my cunt while he’s destroying it that lights up every nerve in my body.
His thumb rubs circles over my clit as our bodies slam together. The headboard bangs against the wall, joining the cacophony of Enzo and Luca still going at it in the next room. Together, we might actually bust through the wall, and I don’t give a shit.
This man fucks like a god. He could tear the world apart with his dick in my pussy, and I’d be happy for it.
“Your cunt is choking me, baby. Are you sure you didn’t miss me?” His words tease, his pace relentless.
My walls flutter around him, and he slows down just enough to threaten that he’ll stop if I don’t answer him.
“No! Jax, keep going,” I plead.
He sucks on his thumb, his cock gliding into me with slow, deliberate strokes. He leans down, his breath hot against my ear. “Tell me what I want to hear, Peach, and I’ll give you the world.”
Oh, god.
He picks up the pace again, each thrust more intense than the last. The fire in my core reignites, burning hotter with every movement.
“Say it, baby.” He kisses me, his lips demanding. He grabs my wrists in one hand, pinning them above my head. His thumb returns to my clit, drawing tight, torturous circles. “Fucking say it because this pussy is mine. You know it is. She’s crying for me, Peach.”
It’s true. I haven’t been this wet in years, and with just one touch, I’m Niagara Falls. But he slows down again, and I swear I might cry.
My eyes snap open, and I wrap my legs around his waist. “Fuck you. Yes.” I glare at him, anger flaring in my eyes, but triumph dances in his. “I fucking missed you, and I hate you for it.”
Jax releases my hands, his grip shifting to my throat as he pounds into me like his life depends on it. He hooks one of my legs over his arm, driving his cock deeper, and I swear I feel him swell inside me.
Is it possible for dicks to grow during sex? Because it feels like my cunt just became a cock extender. The thought vanishes as my orgasm crashes over me, consuming me entirely.
“That’s it, Peach. Give it to me,” he growls. His eyes, dark as the night, lock onto mine, swallowing me whole. My mouth drops open, and I mewl with every pulse of my cunt around his cock.
“Wake up this entire motel so they can hear how beautiful you sound when you come for me.”
The strain in his face tells me he’s close, his body trembling as he holds back his release. I dig my nails into his back, pulling him deeper into me. My sensitive clit rubs against the coarse hair of his pubic bone, and I know I’m seconds away from another orgasm.
“You’re such a good girl for me,” he rasps.
I bite his shoulder, muffling my cries as I curl into him. My breasts slide against his chest, and he grips the headboard, using it for leverage as he pounds into me with abandon.
“Are you ready for my cum, baby?” He sucks my nipple hard, and I yelp my answer.
“Play with your clit, Peach. Come with me. I fucking need it, baby. You don’t know how badly I need you.”
His voice is raw, desperate, and it pushes me over the edge. My hand finds my clit, and the combined sensation of his cock, his thrusts, and my touch sends me spiraling.
My walls clench around him, and he groans, his release filling me in hot, shuddering waves.
“Fill me up, Jax,” I whisper, locking my ankles behind his back. “Give me every drop.”
“Fuck,” he groans, his face buried in my neck. Each grunt sends shivers across my skin as we ride the last ripples of pleasure together. “Delaney,” he murmurs my name with reverence as we collapse onto the bed.
We lie there, tangled together, sharing quiet breaths. His hand strokes my cheek, his eyes searching mine. For a moment, the anger and pain between us fade, replaced by something raw and undeniable.
But I can’t let go of the resentment, the betrayal. It’s easier to hold onto the anger than face the truth of what I feel for him.
I turn my head away, breaking the fragile connection between us. Jax lets me slip off the bed, but he doesn’t let me fall too far into the bitterness.
“You’re still mad at me,” he says, his voice low and heavy with regret. It’s the kind of regret I never let myself show. “After everything... after all this time, you’re still mad?”
I shoot him a glare, though it’s not as sharp as it should be. “You lied to me. You kept things from me, Jax. You didn’t tell me what you really did for a living. You didn’t trust me.”
“I was protecting you.”
“From what?” My voice rises, the frustration spilling out as we stand naked in the dim motel room. His cum drips down my leg, and I hate it because I feel emptier with every drop that leaves me. “What were you protecting me from, Jax? From feeling abandoned? Because that didn’t fucking work. You left me at the altar, and then you left me alone in the world when they took you away in handcuffs.”
“You didn’t wait for me.” His voice is softer now, broken with pain. “Why didn’t you wait for me?”
He takes a step toward me, and I instinctively step back.
“I looked for you, every day during the trial,” he continues, his eyes pleading. Another step forward, another step back.
It’s the same dance we’ve always done—pushing and pulling, never finding steady ground.
“You were charged with murder, Jax.”
He winces like the word itself hurts. “You know it was a bullshit charge.”
His fists clench at his sides. “That day... that was supposed to be the start of our lives together. I should have told you the truth about what I really did for a living, but I was trying to keep you safe.”
Another step backward, and my legs hit the dresser. I have nowhere left to retreat.
“I hurt you, and you hurt me back. God, baby, I wrote you every damn day, but you never wrote back. You just... gave up on me.”
His words hit me like a brick, and something inside me softens. He’s right. I did walk away. I didn’t wait for him. But at the time, I thought I had my reasons.
“I couldn’t come to the trial,” I confess, my voice trembling. I stare at my hands, unable to meet his eyes. “I couldn’t be that close to you and not touch you. To have to walk away and leave you there... it would have ripped my heart apart.”
My chin quivers, and I take a deep breath to steady myself. “I did write you—every single day.”
Jax’s sharp intake of breath cuts through the silence, his disbelief palpable.
I take a step toward him. “I read every letter you sent me. Over and over. Every day. But I never sent you anything. I couldn’t.”
My breasts brush against his chest as I take another step. My hands find his taut muscles, and I feel him tense beneath my touch.
“I mostly told you how much I hated you,” I admit with a dry laugh. It’s not humor—it’s the apology I never knew how to give.
He chuckles softly, his hands reaching for me. “I figured that part out on my own.”
His gaze softens as he pulls me into his arms. I wrap mine around his neck, my fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. “But I also wrote about my new job... my dickhead of a boss.”
He grins knowingly. “Enzo.”
“I wrote about my dreams too,” I continue, a small smile tugging at my lips. “About wanting to publish more of my books. When my first book hit the best-sellers list... I imagined how proud you’d be.”
“I am proud of you, Peach.” His voice is warm, his thumb brushing against my cheek. “I always have been. I always will be.”
Before I can respond, his lips find mine. The kiss is soft, unhurried, and it carries me somewhere far from the motel and all its ghosts.
He lays me back onto the bed, and when our bodies come together this time, it’s different. There’s no urgency, no frantic need to fill the silence. It’s tender, deliberate, and filled with a warmth I’ve missed for far too long.
The climax isn’t explosive—it’s steady, like a wave cresting and retreating. When it’s over, we lie tangled together, the quiet between us no longer suffocating but comforting.
His hand traces lazy patterns on my side as we stare at each other, lost in the moment.
“I’m sorry, Peach,” he whispers, his voice thick with regret. “I’m so damn sorry I left you.”
Just as the words settle, a sharp knock at the door shatters the quiet. I jump, reality rushing back in.
“It’s time to go,” Enzo calls from the other side, his voice brisk and insistent.
Jax pulls away reluctantly, but I tug him back for one more kiss, soft and lingering. “I’m sorry too.”
He rests his forehead against mine, closing his eyes as if to hold onto this moment a little longer. His hands cup my face gently, as though he’s afraid I’ll disappear when he opens his eyes again.
But finally, he does, and his dimples greet me with a soft smile.
“Come on, Peach. Let’s get dressed before your old dickhead boss beats the door down.”