Chapter 14 #2
Jax walked her backward until her legs hit the chaise. The contact tipped her into it, and he came down with her—one hand catching on the back, the other finding her waist, his mouth already on hers."
“The only way to get rid of a temptation…is to yield to it,” he murmured against her mouth.
“Jax,” she said again. This time it was definitely permission.
His next kiss was less careful. His hands slid under the emerald silk, tracing the line of her ribs, her waist, the curve of her hip.
Every touch contemplated.
His mouth stayed on hers even as one hand left her, dipping into his pocket. He broke the kiss only long enough to pull back and meet her eyes, the foil catching the light between them.
"I have rules," he said, meeting her eyes. "Not for you. For me."
April's lips twitched, fighting a smile. "Rules. And you follow them?"
"Yes," Jax said. "These ones I follow.”
He held the condom up. "I don't let 'heat of the moment' become someone else's consequence."
Then he produced a small bottle of lube from his pocket like a magician with one extremely specific trick. "Bodies aren't machines. I refuse to treat discomfort like a romantic subplot."
"You really do carry everything."
"Hope isn't a strategy." Two taps on his phone. A clean lab portal, all negative, date stamped this week. "I keep it current," he said quietly.
April blinked at the screen, then at him. "That's… weirdly responsible for a man who just teleported into the ladies' room."
April showed him hers. "Post-Chad damage control. Apparently I'm very efficient when motivated by spite."
"Birth control?" he asked.
"IUD. Copper. Good for another eight years."
Jax exhaled slowly. "Okay."
He held her gaze. His thumb brushed over the condom wrapper once. Intentional. "This is my rule, with others. But if you want something different, you don't have to wonder if it's safe."
April stared at him for half a heartbeat, struck by the way he'd said it. Like he was offering her a choice, not making assumptions.
He leaned in, close enough that his breath warmed the corner of her mouth, but he didn't kiss her yet. "It doesn't mean I assumed yes. It means I'm not reckless with you."
"That," she said softly, "is kind of hot."
His eyes flashed, pleased and a little stunned. "Good." Then, like he couldn't help himself, the smirk returned. His hand brushing soft strokes up her side.
Jax was standing here with his updated STI panel and his pocket lube and his considered questions. He’d watched her all day. Wanted to burn the world down for her. Quoted poetry like he’d been collecting her favorite lines in case he ever got the chance to hand them back.
And Mateo’s voice, hours ago: Take what you want.
The library had been a dare.
Jax was a decision.
“I want you.”
“Bare.”
The condom wrapper crinkled in his grip. And stared into her eyes as he slowly, deliberately, set the condom aside.
Not discarded. Superseded.
His hand slid into her hair, angling her head.
The other hand gripped her waist, pulling her flush when she leaned in.
This wasn’t the careful kiss from before.
This was possession wrapped in care, hunger held in check to make sure she felt chosen.
Her balance tipped. His hands caught her like he’d expected it, like bracing her had always been part of the plan.
When he finally pulled back, they were both breathing hard.
He guided her back toward the ridiculous fainting couch that looked like it had been designed for Victorian ladies with the vapors.
His hands were firm but measured, positioning her like she was delicate circuitry he was trying not to short out.
April’s back met the velvet, and her brain offered up one last coherent thought: I’m allowed to have this.
Jax knelt between her legs, his hands sliding up her thighs, pushing the emerald silk up, out of the way. He pressed a grazing kiss to her inner thigh. Then another, higher.
His mouth traced a slow line of kisses toward her center. When he reached her hipbone, he paused, mouth hovering. He looked up at her, holding the space open just long enough for her to feel it. His mouth closed on her.
He started slow, almost maddeningly so. His tongue traced her lips with surgical precision that suggested he’d spent significant time thinking about exactly how to unravel her.
April’s fingers twisted into the absurd velvet upholstery. Her hips rolled into his mouth without permission from her brain.
“Fuck—” The word came out ragged.
Her nipples tightened, oversensitive against the silk bunched at her waist. The need wound tighter with each methodical stroke of his tongue.
Jax hummed against her clit, and the vibration made her thighs tremble.
He didn’t rush. He varied the pressure, withdrew, returned, slow enough that her back lifted from the chaise without her meaning it to.
When he pulled back, April whimpered, a sound she'd be embarrassed about later. His mouth was gone, but his hand replaced it immediately, two slick fingers pressing in where his tongue had been.
Then April’s hand found him and her brain stalled.
“You have… upgrade ports.”
Multiple upgrade ports. Arranged with surgical neatness. “That’s a concerning amount of hardware for a single interface.”
Jax laughed, his fingers still moving inside her. “Incremental optimization.”
April's hand stilled on him, fingers tracing the metal.
"Okay but, why? What do these even—"
"Function. Nerve clusters map differently." His hips shifted, demonstration as explanation. "Here. The ladder. Variable friction. Your body reads it as distinct inputs, not uniform pressure."
His fingers were still inside her, curling as he spoke. Her hips rolled into his hand involuntarily—his explanation landing as much in her body as her brain.
"And this one—" He guided her hand lower. "Frenum. Hits the anterior wall at specific angles."
April's core clenched around his fingers. The fact that he'd planned this, that he'd thought through nerve clusters and friction variables while getting metal inserted into his dick—
"The ampallang hits from multiple angles."
Her hand tightened on him.
"You like that," Jax said, not a question. His fingers curled again.
"You... engineered your dick."
"Iteratively." Like it was obvious.
Which was, objectively, the most Jax solution imaginable.
"That's—" She lost the rest of the sentence when his fingers curled again, hitting that spot that made her breath catch. "—incredibly nerdy."
"Functional." He corrected. "Designed for this."
His thumb found her clit, circling with the same focused attention he'd used with his mouth while she explored him. Her hand learned him as his fingers tracked every response. What made her gasp. What made her muscles clench. Adjusting his technique with each.
When he added a third finger, the fullness made her head fall back against the velvet. "Eyes on me." His voice was firm, like a calibration command. April’s eyes snapped to his, body tightening in response.
He withdrew his fingers, and the sudden emptiness felt like a system crash.
"Ready for primary interface testing, or should I keep iterating?" His tone was low, almost casual, but the heat in his gaze betrayed him.
April’s hands found his shoulders, pulling him closer. "Now," she said, voice demanding.
Jax slicked lube over his cock, coating each ridge with care. Then he guided the head to her entrance and paused there, just the pressure of contact. Letting her feel what was coming.
He pushed in slowly, watching her face the entire time.
The first ridge rewrote the sensation. A textured pulse that made her inhale wrong.
By the time he was fully seated, the metal had turned into a rhythm: three raised beats she felt with every shift of his hips.
Her body tried to catalogue it and failed, could only register: different, more, engineered for this exact purpose.
"God," April gasped. "You feel—"
"Language fails here," Jax finished, his voice rough. He leaned forward until their foreheads touched.
He paused when he was fully inside her, letting her adjust. His breathing had gone uneven, the first crack in his careful control. April kissed him—pulling him down to her mouth, claiming this moment. His body answered hers, control fraying.
Then he started to move.
Each thrust dragged the metal in deliberate friction, heat sparking under her skin.
Her body had opinions about the hardware that her brain was going to need a spreadsheet to process later.
Right now all she could register was that someone had engineered this, and that the planning was as hot as the execution.
The rhythm was measured at first. Deep thrusts, setting her entire body singing.
She pulled him closer, legs wrapping around his hips, wanting more contact, more pressure, more him.
Her focus sharpened until every shift of his hips registered like a system alert.
Sweat gathered at the small of her back where his hand gripped her hip.
The fainting couch beneath them creaked slightly, and April had the fleeting, absurd thought that this piece of Victorian furniture was bearing witness to something it had definitely not been designed for.
Jax's pace shifted, fucking her faster. One hand gripped her hip, angling her until each thrust hit that engineered ridge.
Her vision narrowed to white noise and data loss.
Each time he moved, she felt them—the metal catching against her in ways that made her nerves short-circuit.
It wasn't just him filling her—it was texture, friction, systematic optimization made physical.
"Oh god—" April's nails dug into his shoulders. "The—you—"
"I can feel you tightening," Jax said against her mouth, wrecked. "Every time I hit that spot, there, you pull me deeper. You don't even know you're doing it." His hand found hers, fingers interlacing, gripping tight.
"Fuck—Jax—"