Chapter 76 #3
I turn back to the barre, lifting my leg again like nothing happened. Because I learned something this year: if I’m going to survive loving Jax St. Clair… I have to love him from a distance. It’s the only way to keep myself from being consumed.
Behind me, he moves again like a predator stalking its prey. When he reaches the barre, he lifts my leg higher onto it, the stretch a delicious, burning ache.
“Hold it there.”
I steady myself, my muscles trembling with the strain and the anticipation. One of his hands slides along my calf, adjusting my foot like he’s correcting a position. His hand lingers, then he moves it slowly up my leg.
My breath catches and he notices.
“Relax,” he breathes, but his voice is anything but relaxing. “Or don’t. I like it when you fight me.”
He just moves his palm to cup my pussy, the pressure firm through the thin fabric. He hooks his finger in the leotard, sliding it to the side, then rips it with the tights at once.
“Let me look at you, like this,” he whispers.
His gaze shifts from me to the huge mirror that dominates the wall.
I’m glad I can’t see him well because I know I’m blushing from head to toe.
I hear another rip and I realize it was his shirt. “What are you…”
He uses the strip of fabric and loops it around my neck.
“Bend over for me, friend,” he tells me, pushing my back forward. “Keep your leg like that,” he holds my ankle, showing me how to stay balanced, a perfect, obscene display.
He uses his other hand, moving around my leg, pushing my lower back down further. “How does this stretch feel?”
I moan. “Good.”
He slides a finger inside me. “How about this stretch?”
He pulls on the fabric on my neck with a warning tug. “Good?”
I nod, my throat too tight to form words.
He slides a second finger inside me, scissoring them. My hips rock against his hand. He just chuckles and withdraws his fingers completely. I whimper at the loss, at the sudden emptiness.
“My rabbit,” he murmurs. I hear the sound of his zipper, the rustle of his jeans, and then the hot, heavy weight of his cock presses against my entrance. He slides it through my pussy, coating himself in my wetness, teasing us both.
“Jax,” I gasp, my head hanging down.
“What do you want, Rabbit?” he asks. He uses the hand not holding the makeshift leash to grip my hip, holding me still. “Tell me what you want.”
“Fuck me.”
“Not good enough.” He drags his cock over my pussy again. “Tell me you’re mine.”
I do because I am. The last shred of my dignity dissolves, and I beg, a stream of broken, desperate pleas that make him groan. “I have always been yours. Now please Jax, fuck your pussy.”
By the time he’s sliding his cock into me, I’m so lost in sensation I can barely think. “I wish I could see you,” I breathe.
It takes no time. All the lights in the studio turn on at once.
“Oh—” I only have time to adjust and say, “How did you—”
Then I see it: us. My reflection in the massive wall mirrors. Me, bent over, one leg stretched high on the barre, his shirt around my neck like a leash. Him behind me, his body a coiled spring of muscle and need, his eyes burning red as he drives into me.
“Never mind. Turn it off, turn it off!” I cry out, humiliated.
He chuckles, a dark, smug sound, and the lights go off. “You didn’t seem to mind an audience before. In fact, I seem to remember you getting even wetter when you realized they were watching.”
“I don’t know. I’m getting older, okay? My body is not—”
“Scotch!” he cuts me off. He tightens the shirt on my neck and sinks deeper into me, making me gasp. “You are, have always been, and always will be the most beautiful thing in this world, and I won’t hear otherwise. Do you hear me, Rabbit?”
I don’t respond.
“Answer me,” he says, tightening the shirt again.
“Yes,” I choke out.
“Yes what?”
“Yes, I hear you.”
“Good,” he huffs, his lips brushing my ear. “Now, should I edge you until you cry, or do you want to come for me now?”
“Fuck, Jax,” I whimper. “I was so close to moving on.”
“Yeah? The thing about us, Sisk, is… there will never be moving on. Just trying to survive.” He bites my ear, hard.
“I will always crave you, and every time I lose control, I will stumble in here and you will open your legs for me. I don’t care who we’re with, what we’re doing, how old we are.
I don’t even fucking care if you’re married.
Because this need… only you can satisfy.
” He pushes harder and deeper, his grip on my hip turning bruising as he buries himself with a deep groan.
The feeling of him coming undone inside me is what sends me over, and my orgasm comes in a shattering wave that rips a scream from my throat and leaves me trembling in his arms.
“I hate you,” I tell him as I turn around and kiss him.
His red eyes lock on mine. “I think you mean, you fucking hate loving me.”
I nod, and I can’t stop the tears from tracking down my face. He leans in, his lips gently brushing them away. “Unfortunately for both of us, I love you too,” he whispers against my wet skin.