Chapter Four
Zora
The first night, I almost don’t go.
I stand in my doorway for a full minute with Levi on my hip and my hand on the knob, running through every reason this is a bad idea, and then I walk the six steps down the hall and knock anyway.
He opens the door and steps back to let me in, and the first thing I see isn’t him.
It’s a portable crib. Set up by the couch, already made, a folded blanket over the rail that isn’t one of mine. It’s not new-new—the box is broken down flat against the wall like he did it this afternoon and didn’t bother hiding the evidence.
I stop in the middle of his living room.
“You bought a crib.”
“Picked it up a few days ago.” He says it like it’s nothing, already turning back toward the kitchen. “Thought it might help.”
A few days ago. Before he ever asked me over. Before I said no.
“Jax.”
He looks back at me.
“You bought a crib,” I say again, unable to keep the quiver from my voice.
He shrugs, one shoulder. “Also, I needed a reason to knock on your door.”
And that’s it. That’s all he gives me. He goes back to whatever’s on the stove and leaves me standing there holding my brother in the middle of a room that somebody made space for us in.
I lay Levi down in it. He fits like it was measured for him. I lower my head and sigh, wiping away the tear before it falls.
???
Dinner with Jax becomes a thing after that.
The second night, I cook, and he pretends the food is better than it is.
The third, he cooks and it actually is, and I stop pretending I come over for any reason except this.
By the fourth, I stop knocking. By the fifth, there's a stroller folded by his door that wasn't there before—he doesn't mention it, and I don't ask. By the sixth, there’s a toothbrush in his bathroom I didn’t put there.
A week of it. Levi lying down in the portable crib, the two of us sitting on the floor with our backs against the couch because the couch is too far from him.
Neither of us says that out loud. Jax talks about racing.
I talk about the daycare center and the toddler who bites.
He asks what I’m reading and then actually reads it. Nobody has ever done that.
And every night, at some point, he kisses me. And every night it goes a little further and stops a little later, and every night I’m the one who stops it, and he lets me. Every single time. Without once making me feel like I owe him the next inch.
That’s the part that undoes me. Not the wanting. The stopping.
But tonight, I don’t want to stop.
I lay Levi down and stand there longer than I need to, my hand on the rail, listening to Jax moving around behind me. And then I don’t hear him moving anymore.
I feel him
. Right behind me. Close. Too close.
“You always overthink this much?” he murmurs.
I inhale slowly as a shiver grips me. Everything low in me clenches in response. My back stays turned. “I’m not overthinking.”
“Mm.”
His hand brushes lightly against my arm, barely there, but it sends another sharp, unexpected shiver through me. I turn. And the second our eyes meet, everything else disappears. The doubts. The logic. The voice in my head telling me this is too fast, too soon, too risky.
Gone.
I don’t remember moving first. Maybe it’s him. Maybe it’s me. Maybe we both give in at the same time. Because suddenly, there’s no space between us, and his hand is at my waist, pulling me in like he’s done holding back.
“Zora…” My name sounds different in his voice now. Lower. Rougher.
My fingers curl into his shirt before I can think about it, and when his mouth meets mine, it’s nothing like before.
It’s slow at first, like he’s giving me time to change my mind.
But when I don’t, when I lean into him instead, it deepens.
Heat builds fast. Too fast, like something we’ve both been trying to ignore finally snaps.
I should stop. I should think. I don’t.
His hand slides up my side, steady, grounding, like he’s making sure I’m still with him, and I am. Completely. Every nerve feels awake. Every thought replaced by the way he touches me. The way he kisses me like he’s been wanting to for longer than he should.
“This is crazy,” I whisper against his lips, but there’s no conviction in it.
“Yeah,” he murmurs back, not stopping. “It is.”
I let out a soft breath that turns into something else when he shifts us, guiding me backward out of the living room and into the bedroom.
I keep walking until the edge of the bed hits behind my knees.
My pulse spikes. My grip tightens on him as I look up at his face.
At the way his eyes darken like he’s trying to hold himself together.
And that’s when it hits me. It’s real.
“I…wait,” I say quickly, my hand pressing lightly against his chest.
He stops immediately. No hesitation. No frustration.
“Hey,” he says quietly, his hand dropping slightly like he’s giving me space but not pulling away completely. “Talk to me.”
My heart is racing too fast, my thoughts catching up all at once. “I’ve never…done this before.”
His brows pull together slightly.
“I’m a virgin,” I say, the words coming out in a rush before I can overthink them.
Silence. Not awkward. Just careful.
He studies my face, and whatever’s there doesn’t look like surprise. It looks like something being confirmed.
“Okay,” he says quietly.
I blink. “Okay?”
“Yeah,” he nods, his hand coming up to brush lightly against my cheek, slower now, gentler. “We go at your pace.”
Something in my chest loosens at that.
“I don’t want to stop,” I admit, my voice quieter now. “I just…needed you to know.”
“I’m glad you told me.”
His thumb traces lightly along my jaw, his touch grounding, steady, like he’s giving me time to breathe again.
“I’ll make it good for you,” he adds softly, his gaze holding mine. “No rush. No pressure. Just…us.”
My breath catches slightly at that. And just like before, the doubt fades again.
I lean into him first this time, closing the distance. My lips brush his, softer now, but no less certain. He responds instantly, one hand steady at my waist, the other sliding gently into my hair. Everything slows.
Like he’s making sure I feel every second of it, every touch, every shift, every breath. And I do. I feel all of it.
His lips move from mine, slower now, tracing along my jaw, my neck, sending small, sharp waves through me that make it hard to think, hard to do anything but hold onto him.
My fingers tighten against his shoulders, my body responding in ways I’ve never experienced before—unfamiliar but not uncomfortable, just intense.
“Jax…” I whisper, not even sure what I’m asking for.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs back, like it’s a promise.
His hands explore my sides, fingers brushing against the hem of my shirt, igniting sparks across my skin. I gasp against his mouth as he inches the fabric up, revealing my bare skin beneath. The cool air sends shivers down my spine, and I can tell he’s just as affected as I am.
He doesn’t ask. He just stops with the shirt halfway up my ribs, his knuckles resting against my skin, and waits.
And I’m back in my kitchen on that day he came over, watching this man hold my brother against his chest like it cost him nothing.
One hand spread across Levi’s whole back.
That low voice he only used for my brother.
The way he took the weight and didn’t once look to me to check if he was doing it right.
I couldn’t name it then. It’s been sitting in me for hours with no name on it.
“Yes, Daddy.”
It’s out before I know it’s coming. My whole body goes hot—I didn’t choose that, I didn’t decide it, it just walked out of me.
Everything in him goes still.
Then something moves through his face that I don’t have a word for either, and his hand slides up to my throat, not gripping, just resting there, thumb under my jaw, tilting my face up to his.
“Say it again.”
“Daddy,” I whisper.
With that, he undresses fast, like something’s been let off a leash. Then he stands before me, bare and hard. He gently removes my oversized shirt and lifts me effortlessly, his skin sliding over mine. I wrap my legs around his waist instantly, feeling weightless in his arms as he lays me down.
Anticipation bubbles within me. He hovers over me, the intensity in his gaze making my heart race even faster.
Then, he leans down to kiss me again, his mouth moving against mine, primal and electric.
I can feel his body pressing against me, and every brush of our skin sends heat pooling low in my stomach.
As we kiss, he explores my body with his hands, dragging up over my ribs, his fingers brushing against my hard nipples. I arch my back, encouraging him, wanting more of his touch.
“Jax,” I whimper against his lips, the sound of his name a plea.
He pulls back slightly, his eyes dark with lust. “Tell me what you want, baby girl.”
“I want you, Daddy,” I admit, the words tumbling out before I can second-guess myself.
He nods and immediately slams his lips back on mine, as if possessed, tasting me. I can feel his hands slide everywhere and anywhere, making me crazed with desire. Fingers trail up my stomach to my breast.
I gasp as he cups my breast gently, his thumb brushing over my nipple in quick strokes. Pleasure courses through me, and I arch into his touch. The sensations are overwhelming yet intoxicating.
“More, Daddy,” I whisper, my voice breathless.
He responds by kissing down my body, his mouth trailing lower, and I can feel the heat of his breath against my skin. Just when I think I can’t take it anymore, he pulls back to look at me, his gaze filled with a mix of reverence and desire.
“I want to make you feel good, baby girl,” he says, and I nod, unable to form words.
He lowers his mouth to my thighs before teasingly inching up, and I can’t help but squirm at the sensation. My body reacts instinctively, a delicious tension building within me as he moves closer.
And when his mouth finally reaches my pussy, I whimper. My back arches off the bed as he licks slow and flat all the way up to my clit.
I moan loudly, and he stops abruptly. “You have to be quiet, or I’ll stop,” he says roughly.
Levi. He’s asleep mere feet away. I nod vigorously and clamp my right hand over my mouth. I rise on my left elbow and watch him draw my clit into his mouth. The ache builds high, each moment sharper than the last.
I can feel my breath quickening, my body responding eagerly to every lick and suck. It’s like he knows exactly how to drive me wild.
“Daddy,” I cry into my hand.
I collapse back on the bed as my fingers tangle in his hair, urging him to continue, to push me further. The world outside fades away, and all that exists is him, me, and the staggering pleasure that builds like a storm within me.
With each flick of his tongue, I tremble and whimper. Then, he slides two fingers into my wet heat. I jerk, squeezing my thighs together unconsciously. I’m teetering on the edge, and I can feel the pressure building, ready to burst.
Every stroke, every slide, and every deep lick takes me higher. I lose myself in it, in what he’s doing to me with his mouth. And when I finally tip over the edge, everything in me pulls tight and lets go at once, and I hear the sound I make somewhere far away.
“Zora,” he murmurs, his voice husky as I come back down.
And he’s right there, kissing me again, like he’s welcoming me back. I’m breathless, my body still humming from the intensity of it all, yet I want more.
“Please, Daddy,” I plead, wanting to feel him inside me, to share this moment completely.
He lifts up to align us and stops there. Doesn’t move. Just holds himself over me, close enough that I can feel him, and lets me decide.
I tilt my hips up into him.
“Please, Daddy.”
He pushes in slowly. Slower than I want, slow enough that I feel every part of it, and there’s a moment where my body just refuses—too much, too full, a bright stinging stretch that makes my breath catch hard.
He stops. Doesn’t say a word. Just holds there, buried partway, his forearms shaking where they’re braced beside my head, letting me have as long as I need.
I breathe. It eases. And then I want it, want all of it, and I don’t know how to ask, so I lift into him instead.
He takes that for what it is and sinks the rest of the way home.
He captures my hands and holds them captive above our heads. “Give me your eyes, baby girl,” he growls.
I comply instantly, his voice and the grip on my wrists doing things to my insides.
He moves gently at first, letting my body adjust. I can feel every inch of him, firing my needs.
We find a rhythm together, his movements growing more confident, every thrust sending ripples of pleasure coursing through me.
Wetness floods my core, and I clench around him in response.
“Oh fuck, baby girl,” he says in a guttural tone as he picks up the pace.
I’m mindless and half crazed with need as he thrusts deeper. I want to touch his sweat-slicked skin, his chest, but I can’t. The need to hold him turns into a deep want that ravages my insides until I’m writhing and keening.
I want to shout. I can’t. Instead, I bite into my lower lip as I get lost in his encompassing and desire-filled stare.
I buck my hips to meet his every stroke, chasing the relief from the growing ache that keeps building.
His movements speed up, and he starts to slam deeper and harder, reaching a part of me nothing has ever touched.
“D-Daddy p-please,” I beg as I tremble, swallowing the loud whimpers threatening to leave my lips.
I’m lost in it. The intimacy of our connection deepens with every thrust. The tension rises again, and I know I’m close, my body responding to him like a live wire.
I tuck my face into his shoulder. “Daddy!” I moan out, feeling the familiar wave cresting. He responds by quickening his pace, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
With one final thrust, I’m sent spiraling over the edge again, the orgasm crashing through me like a volcanic eruption. Nothing before this was even close. He finds his release a beat behind me, his whole body locking, his face against my neck. I feel every second of it happening to him.
As we come back down, I can’t help but smile, knowing that I’ve taken this leap with him. It’s been everything I hoped for and more. He lets go of my wrists and gently massages them. My head falls against the pillow as I try to steady myself, my heart racing too fast.
“Hey…hey,” he murmurs softly, his hand steady against my back. “You okay?”
I nod quickly, breathless. “Yeah…”
“Yeah,” he says, a quiet smile in his voice. “I know.”
I let out a shaky laugh, still trying to catch my breath, but I don’t pull away. I can’t. Because even as everything settles slightly, I still want more. And this time, I won’t fight it.