Page 95 of Jett

Jett pulls the shirt over my head, leans down, and covers one pink, upturned nipple with his mouth, sucking hard. I cry out and slide my hand between us, unfastening the button on his jeans and delving inside to take his dick in my hands.

I stoke his length, and his low, licentious groan fills the small kitchen.

He grabs a fistful of my hair. Wrapping it around his wrist, he forces my head back, exposing my throat to his greedy mouth.

Jett trails a hand over my breasts and down my body. He pushes up my skirt, yanks the seam of my opaque tights and tears them open. He shoves my panties aside and he plunges two fingers in deep. Then he adds another. It’s too much—too hot, too hard, too full. I rock my hips to meet his hands.Oh God. He fucks me mercilessly with his fingers, pulling all the way out before shoving back inside. It’s brutal, it’s delicious, and it’s going to make me come. Butterflies swarm my stomach. Heat spreads low in my core as his wicked hands bring me closer and closer to the edge. I pant as I rock back and forth in time with his thrusts.

Jett yanks his hands from my body and plunges his fingers in my mouth, forcing me to taste myself. “You see how fucking wet you are for me, Angel? Your juicy little pussy fuckin’ loves me.”

Smug bastard. He’s right though. I am always wet for him. Being in the same room as him doesn’t just affect my heart, but my body too.

He removes his fingers from my mouth and takes his dick in his hands.

“Ilove you,” I whisper as he slides inside. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

“I know.” A playful smile twists his beautiful mouth. “Love you too, darlin’. More than I think you understand.”

He leans forward, taking hold of my ankle and sliding it over his shoulder as he pounds into me. It’s awkward in here surrounded by the cabinets and tiny kitchen bench, but within seconds the heat builds within me with every thrust and I come undone. I clench around him, milking his cock.

“Fuck, darlin’. I have missed this sweet little cunt.”

Jett’s own orgasm takes him over the edge. He wrenches free from me and pumps his cock tightly in his fist, groaning as hot come shoots out of him onto my slick pussy.

Our breaths are laboured in the quiet apartment. Sweat beads between my breasts as regret and indecision slam into me. My legs are still wrapped around his hips, but I unhook them as I struggle to right myself in the awkward space.

“Hey, where you goin’?”

“To clean up.”

“Really? ’Cause it looks like you’re runnin’.” Jett holds my gaze. His blue eyes beg me to stay, imploring me to listen. I shake my head, and he grabs several of the subway napkins and cleans his come from my body and throws them in the sink. “Now you’re clean. Talk.”

I glance at the wound on his chest and then down at the blood still staining my hands. “We shouldn’t have done that.”

His eyes narrow as he takes in my face. “Bullshit. You just told me you loved me.”

“Yeah, and nothing’s changed.” I push him back and climb off the counter. My tights are in tatters, and I step out of them and throw them, too, in the sink before straightening my skirt. “You’re still the president of a motorcycle club—”

“You want my fuckin’ patch? It’s yours. I’d hand over the gavel in a split fuckin’ second to keep you happy, but I’m not ever gonna be done lovin’ you. And deep down, you know the same is true when it comes to me. We’re not done because we can’t be. You and I belong together. We need each other, and it’s ’bout fuckin’ time you got on board with it.”

“I don’t want you to give up your club for me.”

“Then what do you want? Whatever it is, it’s yours.”

I want him, but could I live with the fact that he isn’t always a good man, that his brotherhood comes first, and that there’s no way I won’t be swept up in it? I don’t know. Loving a biker is never going to be easy—it’s never going to be sunshine and roses all the time, but then, neither was my marriage to Joshua.

I have a man who loves me, who’ll sacrifice everything for me. Maybe love alone won’t be enough to survive the odds stacked against us, but maybe it will. We won’t know until we try.

“I want a sandwich.”

Jett’s brows shoot skyward. “You want a fuckin’ sandwich?”

I nod. “And tequila.”

He closes his eyes and gives an infinitesimal shake of his head.

“And I want you, Jetthro. I want you ... forever.”

His eyes spring open and he studies my face. “Yeah?”

---