22. OLIVIA
OLIVIA
Ipressed the gauze to Jax’s knee and watched his abs flex at the pain. I was by no means a trained medical professional, but I’d had my fair share of injuries. You didn’t spend ten years as a cheerleader being tossed into the air without collecting a few war wounds.
Jax hissed, then went quiet. I watched the ridged valley of his stomach rise and fall steadily.
His body was ridiculous. I told myself it was the athlete in me that appreciated his defined abs and pecs. He wasn’t movie-star buff. He was punch-walls-and-eat-nothing-but-chicken buff.
Despite what I said, I was struggling to control myself. I blamed the adrenaline. The near-death experience.
Madoc’s looming presence at my back didn’t help matters.
Refusing to act on it, I went to work. I sterilized, cleaned, and wrapped. I listened to Jax’s steady breathing. I heard nothing from behind me. When I was finished, I sank back on my stinging heels and admired my handiwork.
“You need to take it easy,” I said, my voice cracking from disuse. “I mean it. None of that stupid macho crap.”
Jax chuckled and stretched his leg, testing the bandage. I pinched his calf in warning. “What did I just say?”
“Sorry, nurse.”
My eyes bounced up at the sound of his grin. Then my attention was instantly caught on something else.
Oh my god.
Jax was hard.
Rock hard.
The rigid outline of him was plain as day beneath his briefs. It was barely inches from my face. I could feel the heat radiating from him, the musky smell of him. Masculine. Heady. Dangerous.
Heat rushed through me so quickly, it made me dizzy.
I wouldn’t acknowledge it. Not when it was obviously some stress-related response. Or, like, a delayed reaction from our earlier encounter in the bathroom. He’d been denied release and his body was just catching up.
Just adrenaline, I told myself firmly. Nothing to do with you.
I cleared my throat and looked away. I tidied up the gauze around me, keeping my hands busy. I was just about to stand when a cold voice cut in from behind me.
“You’re not done.”
I froze, my hands braced on Jax’s thighs in my aborted attempt to stand. Against my better judgment, my eyes flicked up. Jax was perched on his elbows, watching me. His face looked tired, but his eyes were burning.
My heart thumped in my throat.
The words escaped me before I could swallow them back: “Where else does it hurt?”
Jax’s mouth inched up into a familiar, roguish grin. “Cold,” he said.
I frowned. “You don’t feel cold.” In fact, his skin burned beneath my palms. Did he already have a fever? An infection?
Jax laughed. “Still cold.”
I stared at him dumbly for a beat longer. And then it clicked.
My body erupted into a quick, tingling inferno. I glanced down at my hands, spread over his thighs. Testing my theory, I dragged them a few inches higher.
“Warmer.”
I snatched my hands back. My first instinct was to retreat and pretend I didn’t understand what he wanted. What I wanted. It was wrong. He was injured. He was crashing from the adrenaline. Touching him would be taking advantage.
Wrong, wrong, wrong.
Plus, I could never ignore Madoc. He was a shadow on my back, a looming presence that made my skin prickle with unease.
I couldn’t. Not with him watching. Not both of them…together.
Just the implication made my brain fizzle and pop. Short-circuited.
The mattress dipped, and Jax rolled forward, groaning slightly. I tried to shove him back, but he didn’t budge.
“Don’t move,” I said. My voice sounded weird, like I’d gulped in too much air. “You’ll ruin all my hard work.”
Sitting up now, Jax bracketed me between his legs. I saw his hand move toward my face. His thumb pressed to my bottom lip.
I looked up, feeling almost shy. Jax tilted his head, considering me. His eyes were hungry, but his grin had a forgiving curve to it.
With a pang, I realized he was giving me an out. Not a dismissal, not a rejection. A choice.
Once we crossed this line, there was no going back.
My heart thumped again, hard enough to make me breathless.
Was I really doing this?
Slowly, deliberately, I reached for his hand, removing his thumb from my lip. Before I could overthink it, I guided that same hand around my head, coaxing his fingers to grip onto my ponytail.
His eyes widened. His fingers tightened automatically, as if proving to himself it was real. I looked down, unable to meet his eyes. Unfortunately, that just meant I was staring at his lap.
He was so hard, I could see his tip poking out from the waistband.
Any and all thoughts vanished from my mind.
“Warmer.” His voice rumbled above me.
My hands shook as they settled back on his thighs. I dragged them up, feeling the coarse hair, the twitching muscle. When my fingers reached the crease of his groin, his cock twitched. A pearly bead spurted softly from his slit.
He was so pent up.
My mouth watered, and I swallowed, ashamed and so, so turned on.
“Warmer.”
My fingers grazed him through the cotton of his briefs. Hot, hard. Impossibly hard.
He was right on the edge.
A powerful feeling welled up inside me. Jax was completely under my control. Every flick, every brush, every touch. It was like caging a wild beast. Even though I was the one on my knees, he was at my mercy.
I reached for his waistband. Carefully, I peeled down his briefs, revealing him inch by inch.
“Ouch,” I murmured.
His cock was throbbing, so hard it looked painful. It pressed against his stomach, leaving a smear of precum across his abs. As I stared at it, his fingers tightened in my hair. Pain shivered across my scalp.
“Hot,” he growled.
That was the word for it.
I licked my lips, leaning down.
Fabric shifted behind me.
I froze, awareness snapping down my spine like a whip crack. Instead of looking back, I craned my head up and searched Jax’s face. He was staring back at me, but there was tension in his brow. His neck was corded with restraint.
We both knew who watched us.
Had Madoc ever seen him like this? Hard, exposed. I knew they had history. I knew that both men struggled with their stupid man feelings, unable to communicate without threats or violence.
“Hey,” I said quietly. Jax’s eyes sharpened on my face. “Look at him.”
With visible effort, Jax lifted his gaze to the silent demon at the door. The effect was instant—his thighs spasmed, his hand tightened in my hair, and his cock pulsed.
He liked whatever he saw.
I was too much of a coward to follow his example. Having Jax was one thing, but seeing whatever he did to Madoc was way too much.
I was tempted to drag it out. Take my time with it. Part of me was still angry at Jax. All the secrets, resentments, bitter silences. I could punish him for hours.
I leaned down and opened my mouth, tracing my tongue slowly across his weeping head. He stiffened, fingers clawing into my hair. His control was tenuous. Shaky.
I wanted him to finally let go.
I sucked him down, swallowing. I was by no means an expert at this. My experience was limited. And even though we’d done this before, it felt different this time.
We had an audience.
I could just imagine how I looked to Madoc—on my knees with Jax’s fist in my hair. Could he see the heat spreading up the back of my neck? Could he see the way I squirmed?
Jax groaned.
“Fuck,” he drawled. His voice was gutted, winded. “Fuck, Liv. Your mouth…”
I knew the moment his control snapped. His fingers clawed, and he shoved me down, the pace brutal. His cock hit the back of my throat, causing me to gag. Tears sprang to my eyes.
My chest hummed in victory.
My body burned and burned.
He was already so close. I knew his tells. The twitch of his jaw. The way his breathing changed. The darkening of his eyes when he was fighting for control. I knew exactly how close he was to breaking.
When I peeked up at him, I was oddly pleased at the fact that he was still watching Madoc.
And I knew, without question, that Madoc was watching him back. Those cold, green eyes were calculating his every twitch, every pant, every ripple and movement of pleasure.
It was almost like we were sharing him, drinking him in.
Jax groaned again, his chest hitching. I pulled back just enough to swirl my tongue over his crown. He tasted salty, raw. “Shit,” he hissed. “Shit, fuck—”
I redoubled my efforts, my heart squeezing like I was running a marathon, or running for my life.
I ignored the mess of spit and tears. I was lost, delirious in my efforts. I was so turned on, I was certain I was about to fall with him—
And then he spoke. “Stop.”
Jax’s fingers clenched in my hair, forcing me to stop. The command was quiet but cutting, slicing through the thick tension. Jax twitched in my mouth. He was so close, so achingly close.
But he held off.
Because Madoc spoke, and Madoc was watching, and Madoc was inserting himself.
Participating.
Fabric shifted behind me again. God, was he—
I didn’t hear him approach. But suddenly, I felt him standing over me, his shadow blocking out the dim overhead lights. I slammed my eyes shut, unwilling to look at him.
A girl could only handle so much.
Jax was breathing hard. His cock wept on my tongue.
When Madoc didn’t say anything else, didn’t move or touch, Jax bristled with anger. “Come on,” he snapped. He was starting to shake.
Giving Madoc control of his orgasm was automatic, like there was never any question. I didn’t move. Jax didn’t push.
The moment lingered, sharp, electric.
Cold fingers curled under my jaw.
My eyes snapped open in shock. That was a mistake. If Jax was overwhelming, Madoc was devastating. His green eyes were piercing in their awareness as he looked down at me. Like he was finally present.
Finally here.
His face was cold as always, emotionless, except for the tick in his jaw. He was holding back something.
Madoc claimed he wanted nothing. For the first time, I saw just how much he wanted everything.
I knew I was broadcasting my awe because Madoc’s eyes flashed dangerously. His fingers prodded at my jaw, feeling where I held Jax on the edge of oblivion. When he reached my throat, my pulse leaped beneath his fingertips.
I gasped, and Jax trembled, on the razor edge.
Madoc’s fingers were cold and bruising, but his voice was even worse. “Do not swallow.”
And then he guided my mouth forward, down Jax’s cock, until he hit the back of my throat. He was so thick that I tried to swallow on reflex, my eyes stinging. Madoc’s fingers pressed against my throat, like he was tracing Jax, touching him…
Oh my god…
That was Jax’s final straw. His body clenched up.
He exploded in my mouth with a deep, pained groan. His abs rippled, his thighs locked. There was so much of it that I choked.
Madoc’s cold command rang in my head.
I’d barely caught my breath when suddenly Jax wrenched on my hair, pulling out. His chest heaved, sweat glistening in the muscular valleys of his torso. His eyes were dark and wide, like he couldn’t believe what had just happened. His cock gave a last, valiant twitch against his stomach.
Then Madoc curled his fingers under my chin, drawing my face up. Whatever he saw made his mouth curl into a slow, deadly smile. “Good girl,” he purred.
I was seconds from swallowing, just to spite him, when Madoc abruptly leaned down and plunged his tongue into my mouth.
My body locked in shock, and I felt more than saw Jax’s equally shocked reaction.
Madoc was kissing me?
Except, no. You couldn’t call it a kiss.
He didn’t move his lips, didn’t coax my own to follow any sort of rhythm. His tongue drilled into my mouth, searching, tasting. He found Jax and devoured him, and then, just as suddenly, it was over.
Madoc stepped back, his face blank. I panted up at him like a dumbstruck idiot.
Oh. My. God.
Jax made a choking sound. “Holy fuck.”
Madoc slanted him a look. Something flashed in his eyes, a shard of emotion that was difficult to interpret with my shock-addled brain. Jax stared back at him, looking almost pained.
Madoc’s eyes narrowed. “No.”
Jax’s jaw clicked shut.
I was confused, dazed, completely offline, but even I sensed when the atmosphere changed. The warmth disappeared. Awkwardness prickled in. Jax tucked himself away, and I sat back to alleviate the pressure on my knees.
And Madoc…
Madoc turned and left, slamming the door behind him.
What just happened?