17. First Night #2
She isn't wearing a bra, and in the warm, gold light of the drafting lamp, her skin is flawless.
A low, ragged exhale escapes and scrapes the back of my throat. I rest my hands lightly on her bare waist. The rough, scratchy friction of my calloused palms against her sensitive skin makes her shiver violently. Her back arches slightly, pressing her deeper into my touch.
She reaches for the hem of my t-shirt, and I lift my arms so she can pull the dark fabric up and over my head. I let her do it, stepping back just enough for her to toss the shirt onto the floor.
Her hands immediately come back to me. Her small, soft palms flatten against the heavy muscles of my chest. She maps the hard lines of my shoulders. Her fingers trace the thick tendons in my neck. She explores my body with a quiet, desperate hunger that makes my jaw lock tight.
"You're so beautiful," I murmur.
A small, breathless sound escapes her throat in response.
I slide my hands down the sides of her lounge pants. I hook my thumbs firmly under the soft waistband. I ease the fabric down over her hips.
She shifts her weight back on her hands, lifting her hips to help me, until I slide the pants all the way down her legs and she kicks them away. She is wearing nothing but a small scrap of dark lace.
I strip off what remains of my clothes too, toeing off my heavy work boots and pushing my denim jeans down before tossing them onto the concrete floor and stepping back between her legs.
The weight of my thighs presses heavily against the soft insides of hers.
I don't intend to take my own satisfaction yet. I intend to completely dismantle her. I want to erase every memory of coldness, every lingering shadow of Stanley, and replace it with pleasure.
I slide my hands down her thighs to grip the soft backs of her knees. I pull her forward, dragging her right to the cold edge of the steel plate.
I look up at her. I catch her wide eyes one last time before I drop heavily to my knees on the dusty concrete floor.
"Jax…"
She gasps my name. Her hands instinctively shoot out, her fingers grabbing my bare shoulders as I descend.
I lean forward to press a slow, open-mouthed kiss to the soft, warm skin of her inner thigh.
The scent of her is intoxicating, warm, sweet, and entirely uniquely hers. The smell cuts through the ozone and oil of the shop, rewriting the sensory memory of the room entirely.
I reach up to hook my fingers into the thin sides of the dark lace, and pull it slowly down her legs. I toss it aside and settle my large hands firmly on her hips to hold her steady against the steel table.
I press my mouth directly to her center, and Nora cries out. The sharp, beautiful sound echoes loudly against the high metal roof. Her hands immediately leave my shoulders, and her fingers lock tightly into the thick hair at the back of my head as she grips me with a sudden, desperate strength.
I intentionally slow down even more, using my tongue and lips to map a rhythm that makes her hips jump against my hands as I learn the taste of her. I trace out the intense heat, completely focused on her release.
I intend to give her everything she has been denied and what she doesn’t know she has been missing. Her head tilts sharply back, and the movement exposes the long, elegant line of her throat to the amber light as she breathes in short, ragged, and broken gasps.
Her thighs begin to tremble uncontrollably against my cheeks as I alter the pressure. I deepen the intimacy, pushing my tongue further, drawing a sustained, whimpering moan from her parted lips.
"Jax," she moans breathily. "Please."
I refuse to let up. I hold her hips firmly down against the steel, my fingers pressing hard enough to leave faint, pale marks on her skin. I refuse to let her pull away from the intensity. I track the building, extreme tension in her muscles and the way her breath catches and holds in her chest.
I push her right to the absolute edge and keep her there. I let her hover in the breathless, blinding space right before the fall, drawing it out until her fingers are pulling at the roots of my hair.
When she finally tips over the edge. She cries out my name, and her entire body arches up off the cold steel workbench, and a visible shudder goes through her core. Her fingers grip my hair tight as she rides out the release, her breathing broken and erratic.
I stay exactly where I am, riding out the heavy tremors with her before finally pressing a slow, soothing kiss against her damp skin until the violent trembling in her legs finally begins to subside.
Only then did I stand up slowly.
At this point, my own control is completely fractured. The blood is roaring so loudly in my ears I can barely hear the rain. My breathing is heavy, ragged, and burning in my chest. Every muscle in my back is locked tight with the effort of holding myself back.
Nora looks up at me. Her eyes are heavy-lidded and glazed with pleasure. Her cheeks are flushed red. Her chest rises and falls beautifully in the dim light.
She reaches her arms out to me, and I step back into her space. My hands wrap around her waist, my thumbs pressing into the soft skin just below her ribs.
Our eyes lock, and there is a brief, intense beat of silent confirmation between us. It is the final acknowledgment that there is no going back from this and the line is crossed.
She arches her back, so she’s thrusting her hip toward me. I support her back and meet her halfway, my length finding the entrance of her core easily. I hold her tight before pushing inch by inch into her.
The sudden, intense heat and extreme tightness of her body enveloping me entirely draws a low, guttural groan straight from the bottom of my throat. I stop moving entirely for a second. My hands grip her hips like iron vises.
I lock my jaw, just trying to process the overwhelming and mind-altering sensation of being buried deep inside her.
"You okay?" I manage to grind out, forcing the words out through clenched teeth.
Nora nods, and her hands slide smoothly up my back to grip my heavy shoulders.
"Yes," she whispers. Her nails dig slightly into my skin. "Don't stop."
I begin to move, matching the pacing of my thrusts to the steady, pounding rhythm of the rain hitting the metal roof above us.
I want her to feel the total weight of my commitment in every single shift of my body and to feel what she’s doing to me as we lock into a seamless, rolling rhythm.
The only sounds left in the shop are the heavy rain, the dull, rhythmic creak of the massive steel workbench taking our combined weight, and the harsh, echoing sound of our combined breathing.
I keep my eyes open to watch the pleasure completely transform the tight lines of her face. I watch the way she bites down hard on her lower lip to stifle a moan. I watch the way her head falls back heavily as I adjust my hips and hit a deeper angle.
The physical tension coiled inside me begins to peak. The pressure builds and builds until it feels as if my chest is going to physically crack open from the inside.
My grip on her hips tightens even further. My thick fingers press hard into her skin, anchoring myself to her. I know I am going to leave bruises that will be there tomorrow. I don't care. I want my mark on her.
My breathing turns completely ragged. I lose the slow, measured, emotional control I pride myself on every day of my life.
"Nora," I grit out.
"I'm here," she whispers back.
She lifts her legs and wraps her calves securely around my waist, locking her ankles behind my back. She uses the leverage to pull me even deeper, taking everything I have.
"I'm right here."
I watch as she reaches her peak again. The intense sensation breaks over her in a quiet, breathless rush. She clings tightly to my shoulders, her nails scratching down my back.
I feel the tight, rhythmic clenching of her muscles squeezing around me, and it completely obliterates the last, thin remaining thread of my restraint.
I bury my face deeply into the hot, sweat-dampened crook of her neck. I let out a low, guttural roar of sound. I drive my hips into her one final time. My entire body shudders violently against hers as the orgasm hits me.
I empty myself completely, giving her absolutely everything I have left inside me. The sheer, overwhelming force of the release leaves my heavy muscles completely liquid, useless, and drained.
I collapse forward, resting my forearms flat on the cold steel table on either side of her head. I bear my own weight so I don't crush her into the metal.
We stay exactly like that for what seems like an eternity.
Slowly, the harsh, rasping sound of my breathing eventually evens out against the soft, damp skin of her neck. She doesn't move away. She keeps her arms wrapped securely around my back. Her soft hands gently, repeatedly smooth the sweat-dampened hair at the nape of my neck.
It takes a while, but eventually, I lift my head.