Page 81 of Coming In Hot
Grasping my cock, I smear whatever’s left on my hand down my latex-covered shaft and crawl between Jax’s thighs. On my knees, I rub my cockhead over his ass, making a slippery mess of his skin, before slipping between his cheeks. Lowering myself down over his back, I hook my feet around his calves and grab onto his tense shoulders, pushing into his body an inch at a time.
It’s slow going because he’s so incredibly tight. “Fuck, JJ, you feel… I have no words.”
“That’s a first,” he grunts, bearing down to take more of me. “G-go slow. You’re fucking huge.”
“More compliments? You’re on a roll tonight.” I chuckle against his ear, earning a shiver that makes his ass press against my groin. “I wanted to take this slow, to make this last, but…” My breath whooshes out and I suck in another, straining not to pound into him like a jackhammer. “... It’s gonna be over pretty quick. Fast and dirty. The next round,” I grunt, praying for restraint, “We’ll go slower. Promise.”
Jax fists the duvet and grits his teeth. “Do it. I’m ready. Fuck me, Pharo. Hard.”
He gives me the green light, and I go to town, unleashing my pent-up desire on his poor hole. My hips slam into him again and again, my fingers digging into his shoulders, marking him with bruises.
Half-formed words slip past my lips, teasing his ear, giving away how lust-drunk I feel. From being inside him. Jaxon James. My JJ. The man who barely tolerates me most days, submitting to me, beneath me, taking my cock—no, begging for it. The rush is too heady. It crests, sneaking up on me before I’m ready, but I’m powerless to hold it back.
“Jax,” I pant, warning him.
“Come on,” he urges. “I’m there.”
He slips his hand beneath him and jerks his cock in sync with my brutal thrusts. “Fuckkkkkkkk,” he hisses, drawing it out as he comes.
His ass squeezes my cock in a chokehold and it’s too much. I fill the condom with a grunt, gasping out his name as stars burst behind my closed lids.
Intense.
Overwhelming.
Unforgettable.
Whatever that was… making love… fucking…malucking…it was all of those and more.
I drop a kiss to the back of his sweaty neck and clench the muscles in my abs, making my cock twitch inside him. Jax chuckles and squeezes back.
“You may be on the bottom, but you’ve definitely got the upper hand over me, Jaxon. I’m fucking putty in your hands.”
It’s the truth, and I know he’d want to hear it. Jaxlivesto have the upper hand over me.
“I like hearing you admit that,” he says, voice a little rougher than usual, but still dripping with that easy confidence. “Makes everything that much sweeter.”
“You love being in control,” I murmur, my voice tinged with a mixture of admiration and challenge. He thinks he’s got me right where he wants me. And he does, but I’ll be damned if I admit that much to him. “But don’t forget... even when you think you’ve got the upper hand, I’m still playing the game with you.”
Jax glances back at me, clearly intrigued, but there’s no denying the flicker of excitement in his eyes. “Oh, I like the sound of that,” he says, a dangerous glint in his smile. “Now, do me a favor. Get the fuck off me. You weigh a ton.”
CHAPTER28
JAX
The stretchof highway behind us is still humming in my blood when we pull off at a rest stop just shy of nowhere. Asphalt heat, leather seats, and the unmistakable musk of road sweat—smells like brotherhood.
McCormick swings off his bike and groans like a man twice his age. “I swear, I was taller this morning.”
“You were never tall,” Stiles says, cracking his neck as he paces in a tight circle. “You just had better posture before your spine gave up.”
“Eat shit,” McCormick shoots back, flipping him off. “You can’t remember to change your underwear, but you remember how tall I used to be?”
I tune them out, stretching my legs and rolling my shoulders until they pop. The sun’s starting to dip, and the idea of a cold drink is suddenly top priority.
After a rest and then a few more miles, we end up at Smokes and Spokes, just like every Sunday. Neon signs flicker like they’re giving up the ghost, and the parking lot’s more pothole than pavement. The smell of stale beer smacks me in the face as soon as I step foot through the door.
We slide into a booth, order drinks, and start arguing over who won the last poker night (it was me, and everyone knows it except the sore losers in denial).
