18. Jax
eighteen
Jax
S he's straddling my hips, hands braced on my chest, and every coherent thought just evaporated. Her thighs bracket mine, the heat of her pussy pressed against my already hard cock through our clothes.
"Nineteen days." The words tear out of me, raw and broken. "Nineteen fucking days since that bar—"
"I know." She grinds down deliberately and I see stars. "Been counting too."
I'm still raw from watching her with Remy, but the way she's looking at me now, like she's going to devour me, is scrambling every rational thought.
The scent of her perfume—amber and warm spice with something deeper underneath—wraps around me like a weapon.
"You want me to stop thinking?" Her voice drops to that husky register that makes my spine tingle. "Fine. But I'm doing this my way."
She rolls her hips again, and I swear my vision whites out at the edges.
"Jesus fuck, Mira, if you keep doing that I'm gonna—" My voice cracks like I'm seventeen again. "Right here in my jeans like some fucking teenager. Again."
She laughs, low and dangerous. That sound goes straight to my cock.
"Look at you, golden boy. All that confidence, and you're about to come just from me sitting on you."
"I'm not—fuck it, yes I am." I try to grab her waist, hands shaking. "I came in that garage and I've been hard since."
"Like what?" She leans down, breath hot against my ear, vanilla and musk filling my senses. "Like I've been wet for you every single one of those days? Because I have."
My hips buck involuntarily and she's right—I can feel the wet spot spreading in my boxers. "Fuck. Fucking hell, Mira."
"Such eloquent dirty talk." Her nails scrape down my chest through my shirt, sharp enough to leave marks through the fabric. "No wonder you're still single."
"I had a whole strategy for tonight." My hands are legitimately trembling where they touch her thighs. "Planned it for hours. Then you sat on me and my brain just... stopped."
She sits back, still grinding in those slow circles that are destroying me, and starts working at my belt. The metallic clink echoes in the room.
"Poor baby. Is this too much for you?"
"Depends." I watch her fingers work, trying to focus. "Are you going to keep moving like that? Because my self-control has about ten seconds left."
Her fingers make quick work of my belt, but she tugs my jeans down my legs with maddening slowness.
"Then stop talking." Her voice drops lower, more intimate. "I like watching you lose control."
The words hit like a shot of whiskey, straight to my bloodstream. She likes this? Likes watching me fall apart?
"The statistical probability of lasting more than thirty seconds after you being hard this long is—" Her hand brushes my cock through my boxers. "Christ, who cares about math when you're like this."
When she settles back on my hips, now with only my boxers and her thin pants between us, the heat of her pussy pressed against my cock nearly makes me come. I can feel how wet she is through the thin fabric.
"You're enjoying this way too much," I manage, voice cracking again.
"Watching you fall apart? Absolutely." She traces my collarbone with one finger. "I've been wondering what it would take to break all that rambling, eager-to-please energy."
"This. This is what it takes." My breathing is ragged. "You, doing exactly this."
"I can dismantle a rifle in twelve seconds," I tell her, trying to focus on something concrete. "Run racing scenarios in my sleep. But you look at me and I forget my own fucking name."
She grins. "Finally working that out?"
Her hands slide under my shirt, nails scraping against my chest hard enough to raise welts, and I whimper. The sound tears out of me before I can stop it, echoing off the walls.
"There it is," she whispers. "I was wondering what sounds you'd make."
"Mira, please—"
"Please what?" She leans down until our faces are inches apart, her perfume stronger now, amber and spice mixing with arousal. "Use your words, Jax."
"Every time you shift, the angle changes and—" Her hips roll again. "Fuck, right there, that's going to end this conversation real quick."
"You want to fuck me?" Her voice is silk and poison. "Then take what you want."
"You think you're winning because I'm about to come in my boxers?" Something shifts in my voice, competitive despite desperate. "Fine. But when I get my hands on you, we'll see who breaks first."
She pulls my shirt over my head, tossing it aside, and her eyes darken as she takes in my chest. "There's something dangerous in you." Her voice drops lower. "Stop holding it back."
The words hit something deep, and I realize she's right. This rambling, desperate version of me isn't who I really am. It's just what she does to me.
"You want to see him?" Something shifts in my voice, deeper now.
"I'm starting to wonder if he exists."
That's when something inside me snaps.
"Enough."
The word comes out harder than I intended, and Mira's eyes widen with surprise. Before she can react, I flip us in one smooth move, using my weight and training to reverse our positions. Her back hits the mattress, and the scent of her perfume blooms stronger against the sheets.
Something feral uncurls in my chest. "You've been pushing me on purpose."
"Maybe." She tries to sit up, but I pin her wrists above her head with one hand. "What are you going to do about it?"
My other hand finds her throat, not squeezing, just... claiming. Her pulse hammers against my palm like a trapped bird, and the way her pupils dilate tells me everything.
"You like that." Not a question. Her body's telling me everything. "You like knowing I could—"
"Yes." The word tears out of her, raw and honest.
"Jesus." I lean down until our noses almost touch, breathing in amber and vanilla and pure want. "You really are dangerous."
"So are you." Her voice is breathless now. "Finally."
I capture her mouth in a kiss that's nothing like the desperate fumbling from minutes ago.
This is claiming, demanding, taking what I want.
My teeth catch her bottom lip, biting hard enough to make her gasp.
When she tries to break my grip on her wrists, I hold tighter, my thumb pressing against the pulse point in her throat.
"Jax—"
"No more games. No more control. Just us."
"And if I don't like giving up control?"
"Then I'll have to convince you." I press my knee between her thighs, right against her pussy, while my hand stays on her throat. "But something tells me you're already convinced."
She gasps when I apply pressure with my knee, arching up into me despite herself. The heat radiating from her core burns through the thin fabric of her pants.
"You're different," she breathes.
"You wanted different." I rock my knee against her and watch her eyes flutter closed. "You practically begged for it."
"I did not—"
"Days of teasing." I lean down to bite her throat, tasting salt and that intoxicating perfume. "Testing me. Seeing how far you could push before I broke."
"Maybe."
"Wrong strategy." I release her throat to grab the bottom of her shirt. "Because now I know exactly what you need."
She helps me pull the shirt over her head, then shimmies out of her loose pants, and the sight of her in just red lace makes my vision blur. Perfect curves, dangerous beauty, and those eyes that have been seeing straight through me since day one.
"Jesus, look at you." My hands trace the curve of her ribs, the dip of her waist, learning the geography of her body. "So fucking beautiful it hurts."
"Better." She arches into my touch, goosebumps following my fingers. "Much better than the rambling."
"Oh, I'm still going to ramble." I lean down to bite the swell of her breast, hard enough to mark. "I'm just going to do it while I make you scream."
Her sharp intake of breath tells me she likes that idea.
I work my way down her body with teeth and tongue, tasting salt and something uniquely her beneath the perfume. When I reach the edge of her bra, I look up at her face.
"Still think I can't handle you?"
"The jury's still out."
I tear her bra off with one hand—the hooks snap, fabric ripping—and when I take her nipple between my teeth, she makes this desperate sound that goes straight to my cock.
"Verdict's coming in," I murmur against her heated skin.
My hands move with new purpose, thumbs pressing bruises into her hip bones while my mouth works lower. When I hook my fingers in her panties, she lifts her hips to help me slide them down.
"Spread your legs." The command surprises us both. "I want to taste what nineteen days of wanting me does to you."
She obeys, and the sight of her pussy, swollen and dripping, makes my mouth water. The scent of her arousal is intoxicating.
"Fuck, Mira. You're drenched."
I settle between her thighs, and when my tongue makes first contact with her clit, she cries out loud enough that Cole probably heard. The taste of her floods my senses—salt and sweetness and pure addiction.
"That's it," I growl against her. "Let everyone hear what I do to you."
I work her with my mouth, alternating between broad strokes and focused attention on her clit. When I slide two fingers inside her without warning, she bucks hard against my face.
"Jax, I'm going to—"
"Come." I curl my fingers while sucking hard on her clit. "Come on my tongue like you owe me."
She shatters with a scream that definitely reaches the rest of the house. Her pussy clenches around my fingers, and I work her through it until she's shaking, trying to close her legs.
"Holy shit." She's breathing hard, staring at me with something like shock. "Where did that come from?"
"You woke it up." I kiss my way back up her body, letting her taste herself on my lips. "And now you deal with the consequences."
I shed my boxers, and when she sees how hard I am for her, her eyes go wide.
"You're bigger than I thought."
"Birth control?" I position myself at her entrance, watching her face.