Page 91 of Jax
I lifted my hand and grazed my knuckles along her thigh beside the strip. Her breath hitched.
“You still want to leave this one on?” I asked, my voice low, steady. Not just a question, but an anchor.
She nodded at first, then stilled. Remembered. “Yes,” she said softly. “Leave it.”
When I looked up and met her gaze, something shifted in the air. She wasn’t afraid. She wasn’t hesitant. She was letting me see the unfiltered version of her desire; and that kind of honesty didn’t just spark hunger. It rewrote gravity. Every command I’d ever given felt like preparation for this one moment.
“Tell me,” I said, reverence and heat braided into every syllable. “Tell me you want this. Tell me what you need.”
She hesitated, jaw twitching like the words scraped their way out. And then, brave as hell, she gave them to me.
“I want your mouth again. Please.”
The words hit like flame, searing through every thread of control I’d kept wound tight. My grip on her thigh tightened,not rough, just enough to tether us. That kind of truth didn’t arrive dressed for seduction. It came bare. Shaking. Willing to risk being seen. This was the same woman who once tucked her hunger behind silence, now claiming pleasure like it was hers to take, not beg for.
“My mouth, hmm?” I teased her gently, not wanting to break the reverence of the moment. “Didn’t get enough the first time, did we?”
“I want…” Her voice cracked, then steadied. “I want to know what it feels like to be unraveled by something that doesn’t hurt.”
My breath stuttered as I dropped my forehead to her thigh, anchoring myself before I unraveled too. My hands were shaking. My pulse had no rhythm left. She wasn’t just offering her body. She was offering belief. That I might be the one to show her softness didn’t mean weakness. That falling apart could feel like safety, not failure.
I slid my hands beneath her thighs, drawing her closer. I pressed a kiss to her mound, right above her slit. Not rushed. Not desperate. Just a promise made in contact. Her whole body jolted.
“Jax…” she gasped, fingers twisting in the blanket behind her.
I looked up, dragged my tongue over my bottom lip. “Say it again. Slower.”
“I want…” She trembled. “Your mouth.”
“Good girl,” I said, voice low and frayed. Her pulse fluttered beneath my touch.
I didn’t rush. I gazed at her sex from mere inches away. Let her feel the full weight of my gaze. Not cold. Not awestruck. Just steady. I wasn’t trying to worship her. I wanted her to feel real. Rooted. Not a fantasy. A miracle.
I lowered my mouth and tasted her more deeply than I had been able to when she was standing—slow, deep, patient. Her moan cracked the room wide open. This wasn’t about sex or surrender. It was about release. About being touched without being taken. About the proof that want didn’t have to end in pain.
Her taste hit like scripture. Her thighs trembled, but I didn’t let go. I licked slowly, dragging heat across her clit until her breath vanished. Her hips bucked, but my hands held, never to restrain, only to steady. I lapped and licked over every inch of her, devouring her like a starving man, drawing her ever closer to climax.
When she neared the edge, when her body surged with the rhythm of the wave rising, I pulled back. Not to deny. To control. My mouth hovered. My breath washed over her in soft, coaxing pulses. Her body answered, shaking, reaching for me like gravity itself bent between us.
“Jax…” she gasped, voice wrecked and shining, full of life and too much need to contain.
I didn’t answer her with words. Just dropped lower and dragged my tongue through her with a filthy, reverent stroke that tore a sound from her chest. My name followed, not as a request, but as a raw plea, ripped from something deeper, something wild and newly unguarded. I was drunk on it. On her.
“You taste like sin and surrender,” I breathed, brushing my mouth along the inside of her thigh before claiming her again. “You don’t even know what you do to me.”
She whimpered and arched, chasing it. I didn’t stop her. I let her move, let her grind against me, let her feel what it meant to be wanted without hesitation. Every sound she gave drove me deeper into the space where devotion blurred into desperation. My hands slid higher, cupping the swell of her ass, anglingher just right so I could suck hard on the aching bundle at her center.
She cried out, unraveling.
“Oh, my God…Jax…please….”
Her voice fractured when I did it again, every part of my mouth working in tandem—tongue, lips, teeth—with focused, unrepentant hunger. She was a melody. And I was the only one who knew how to play her.
When I slid two fingers inside her wet heat, slow and sure and curved just right, her body arched like lightning had touched her. She clamped around me, pulsing in waves that shivered up my spine.
She came hard. Loud. Undone. The kind of orgasm that changes your breath pattern forever.
“Good girl,” I murmured, still deep inside her, my mouth soft as I licked gently at what she gave. “That’s it. Let go for me. Just like that.”
