by Hazel Parker
“What’s he talking about?” I interject, looking at Matthew. I feel Simon next to me also taking notice.
No one says anything. Matthew seems to raise a challenging brow at Zeke, but he doesn’t do anything either. And it’s only then that I realize I don’t know something, that the two of them are hiding a secret. And if it has to do with the club, they know they shouldn’t be. They know better. So I can only hope that it is completely outside that spectrum.
“Nothing.” Zeke says, slowly, he introduces a smile that unsettles me at first until his crooked grin falls back into place and I don’t worry about it anymore. Technically.
I clear my throat and break up their stare contest, trying to flash a serious look reminding them that I’m president of the club, and that if they are hiding something, they should tell me.
But Matthew only nods in response and I have to trust that he knows better than to lie.
“Well I made dessert, Jaxson come help me.” Mom stands and enlists me as her helper. I know she must be hiding something or has a plan.
I walk around the black tiled kitchen counter to face her as she unwraps what looks like a banana cobbler. It could be my favorite, if she didn’t make pecan pie so well.
“What do you need my help with?” I ask her.
“I need your help getting a piece of mind,” she says it’s so seriously, I don’t know if she is joking or not.
I frown and tilt my head at her, placing my hands on either side of me on the counter to lean over.
“Mom…”
“Don’t Mom me and don’t give me that look. What is going on with the club?” her voice is very serious, with no levity in it, but it is hard to take her seriously when she is wiping off plates and spoons to feed her sons.
“Nothing, it’s—”
“Jaxson, don’t lie. You can tell me.”
“You said that you and Dad didn’t talk about everything that was going on in the club. And that’s how you made your marriage last so long.”
“I did say that but you’re my son, and I’m your mother. What could I be doing wrong, if you won’t lean on me?”
I sigh, indecision crossing my mind. My jaw clenches as I fall deep in thought, debating whether or not to disclose all this information. I don’t want to get into the stuff going on in the background, but I might only to find out that she already knows about it.
“Nothing, Mom. I know I can lean on you.” I just don’t want to.
I think she gives up when she grabs the plates, and I take the large dish in my hands. She pauses to look up at me with her clear eyes, unwavering as always. I know there must be a storm going on in her head, worrying about all of us. And then about work and whatever else she goes through, that we don’t even know about.
“Let’s go. They’ll get rowdy soon.” She sighs under breath and leads me out of the kitchen.
I get a sick feeling in my stomach, from disappointing her, or letting her down. I have no idea. But it is there. I wish now that I had just told her, with the slump in her shoulders and dejection in her voice when she says dessert is here. I probably only made it worse by not telling her, and having her think something more is wrong. I feel like I broke something between us, and I hate it.
By the time I leave the house, it hasn’t resolved itself. Not when I hug her goodnight and she kisses my cheek like always, the extra squeeze she gives me only makes it worse.
When I look in her eyes again, it only makes me want to go to one place.
14
ISABELLE
I already regret not being able to see Jaxson. I should be able to get my work done and see him at the same time, but I erred on the side of caution and decided not to have a distracting hot biker around while I write a new original play from scratch. It isn’t easy, or fun, but I love it and it is the best explanation I have.
I have a full day of tossing sticky notes everywhere and pounding on my laptop, but it is worth it when I have a good first act written. I don’t like having to churn out a product in such short time, but I know it is how I become a better writer in the long run.
After a nice hot shower, I strip down to an oversized Grinch tee shirt and start brushing at my hair since I washed it.
It isn’t naturally straight. It has a weird wave and curl to it, so I have to comb it down after every wash and put product in it.
It is tiring, but after I moved in with Riley, I started using her amazing paddle brush that makes life easier. It is basically mine now, and I don’t think she even uses it anymore, but I put it back on her bathroom shelf just to say that I did.
So my surprise is evident when I get a knock on the door. I drop the brush and slip on my fuzzy white slippers to go investigate. We don’t have a key hole, so I can’t see if it is a murderer or a neighbor.
“Who is it?” I call into the door. A few seconds pass, and I feel familiar heavy breathing on the other end.
When my insides melt and my skin erupts with pringles, I know who it is.
The thought is both settling and unnerving at the same time. It is if he knew, too, because when I open the door he still hasn’t said anything.
“Jaxson,” I breathe out, fighting the wide smile I know wants to give me away. I have always done that, hiding the affection I know that I feel until I can see what the other person shows.
But when his scowl relaxes, and the firm ridge between his brows disappears, his eyes adjust to mine and I tell myself that looking at me did that to him. For him.
“Isabelle…” he steps forward on his toes and I wave him in.
He walks past me. I click the door shut and take a breath before turning around. Suddenly I realize what I am wearing, after taking in his dressy attire, and cross my arms around my ratty old tee shirt.
“I know you said you were busy, but I—”
I notice he has only been looking at my face. Not at my nipples poking through my shirt, or my bare legs and how little the shirt covers me.
It’s like he came just because he—
“I just needed to see you. If that’s okay.”
“Yeah, of course.” I say quickly, I don’t even try to reel it in or pretend I am not as okay with it as I really am.
He tries to soften his frowned lips into a smile, but he can’t. I find myself drawn closer to him, my feet carrying me until I reach the circle of his warmth. I drop my arms, so my chest brushes his, and I take the ends of his hands in mine.
“What’s wrong?” I whisper.
His pained expression only tightens, and my heart breaks for him. I am already so attuned to him, it hurts. His pain is mine. His unease is mine. I moisten my lips to the cold air and trail my hands up his body. His shoulders are so tense, I feel them under the leather of his cut, and it is the thickest leather I have ever encountered. His sharp scent rolls off him too. I can smell his cologne under the brush of air he whipped back and forth on his bike, the nature and pine of his aroma relaxes me, and I start to become putty. My body heats so much, that my feet clam up and stick to the feathers of my plush slippers.
“Jaxson…” I barely finish my breath before his lips are on mine.
I have to double check to make sure, but yes, he is kissing me like the sky is falling. And I kiss him back the same way. He possesses me for his own benefit but somehow still leaves my choice in the matter to it.
I lean into the kiss, molding my body all the way to his. He is so warm I swelter under his heat, my nipples brush his hard chest and I feel his cock hardening against my thigh.
My hands travel up to his thick hair, fisting it in my fingers right where it gets long at the nape of his neck. His tongue darts out tasting mine, I fight for the upper hand but give up and let him take over, it should never be any other way when it comes to this. I taste his beer and salt from his dinner, and the clear taste that just comes with Jaxson.
His hot, heavy hands slide down my back, down the curve and to the dip of my hips, and then further to the cusp of my ass. He must know I a
m wearing nothing underneath, I have become well aware of the slickness between my thighs, but his hands are cautious. Knowing he has made me come on his hands but not seen my body… I guess I never knew he was a gentleman. But the way he showed up here… I want him to be everything but. To use me for his pleasure, to take away his pain even if for a moment.
I moan into his mouth, reach down to grasp his cock through his pants in the hopes of spurring him on. Lucky for me, it works.
His fingers reach the underside of my ass first, I shiver at the new contact but welcome the sensation. Then he grabs me outright, those big strong hands on my ass that I always thought was too big but feels miniature compared to him.
He breaks the kiss and we both exhale deeply, breathing the same air before he continues. Tonguing me open, sliding his lips across mine.
He does this thing where he suckles my top lip and then presses down on my bottom, that gets my sex tingling. Even more than it is now. My clit has throbbed so much, it is one long permanent pulse now. And I have dripped so much, I am afraid to spread my legs and let it drip on the rug.
He kneads the flesh of my ass over and over as he juts his hips towards me. We are practically dry humping on the floor, and not ashamed of it at all. It is too soon when he breaks away. I am delirious, barely able to hold on.
“You live alone?” his voice is ragged, unbelievably deep and dragged. It shocks me, as I stare wide eyed and can only shake my head. His voice with arousal is unrecognizable, dangerous.
“Fuck it.” He grumbles, and then hoists me up over his shoulder so fast I can’t see straight and my head dizzies.
“Mine is open.” I manage to get out.
He walks in and shuts the door behind him. Then nothing happens for a while and I am afraid that he is taking in the messy nature of my room; crumpled up sticky notes everywhere, empty water and juice bottles, possibly a plate of take out if I remember correctly… or it could be the pale pink sheets and old stuffed rabbit I have always had.
The time to process that passes when I am tossed off his shoulder and open my eyes to stare up at my ceiling. I was air born, and only as I look at him do I realize he has just thrown me onto the bed.
He heaves at the edge of it, his lips swollen and hair a tangled mess. I pant right back up at him, sprawled on the bed. I remember my bareness and close my knees together.
He gives me a look in response to that, like he is almost mad that I did it. I bite down on my lip, feeling my skin flush again.
Waves of white-hot pleasure have dropped through my body again and again, and I have done nothing to stop it.
“Fucking hell, you’re damned perfect Isabelle.” He growls. It is like I forgot he is a brooding, dangerous biker dude until then. Except I know he isn’t dangerous, but that fantasy plays in my head. After all, he did just throw me on the bed.
He strips off his jacket in record speed, his shirt comes next. I gasp at the sprawling ink. I had noticed the faint outlines before but never thought to ask or try to see it.
It’s gorgeous.
The logo starts on his left shoulder, and fans out to wide lightened rays, and I can see his brothers’ names inked in cursive between them, too. It’s the only tattoo he has, but it’s huge and takes up so much space.
I lick my lips at how delicious he is, going back to his face, his eyes are so dark and I still see the pain in them, but he is so focused on me that I think he forgets to notice.
He kicks off his pants, exposing his relatively tight black briefs. The outline of his cock makes me gulp audibly. I still lay on the bed, propping my head up, watching him strip as fast as he can.
His darkened eyes meet mine and pin me down, and I am lost for it. I couldn’t move from this place if I wanted to. I couldn’t get out of this space if I wanted to. I don’t want to, at all. I want him so badly I ache everywhere.
My nipples have hardened to painful lengths, my clit has been pulsing so long I think it might have lost feeling.
“I’m not gonna go slow tonight, baby. I fucking need you.” He warns me as he crawls on the bed. It creaks under his weight, my white wrought iron head board rattles against the wall.
“Okay,” I nod in response and assure him I am protected. He says he is clean, somehow I trust him.
“I need to always have you bare.” He grabs at my knees and shoves me open; that’s what it takes to assure me. I am exposed to the air and his heat.
He grabs at my shirt, like he might intend to rip it off, but instead he drags it until it is over my head and on the floor. Maybe he saw how old it is, and thought it was a memento.
Jaxson hulks over me, kissing me down into another sleepless dream. His warmth, his solidity… it blinds me before I let my eyes slip closed on their own. I cradle him between my legs, the fabric of his briefs hits my clit and I tremble at the contact, so close to the edge already. The taste pools in the back of my mouth and I feel myself slowly coming undone.
He uses one hand to explore my body while the other goes right to my pulsing clit, finding it immediately only to dance around it later. I know how much he needs me, and yet he is just taking care of me first. I’m so eager for him to fuck me, that I don’t care. I need him more than I thought, and I bring myself closer to orgasm just so I can have it.
He slips a finger inside me, thick and long, while his palm presses my clit to ride out my climax. I break the kiss for a huge inhale of air, I see stars as I do and can barely catch my breath through the moans.
Jaxson dips his head to my neck, finding my sweet spot to suckle at, and then he continues to my breasts. One after the other, he suckles my nipple, pulling it to an even harder bud, until it hurts so much I enjoy it. Then he does the other, over and over. His lips slide down my stomach, I wish I could cover up. The way he raises my legs makes my stomach press up, my belly button disappearing, but he kisses every inch of my flesh. Clenches my cellulosed thighs and cradles my wide hips… he worships all the parts of my body I never brought myself to and it floods my body with emotion.
My eyes water from the sensations, from the world of pleasure I never knew was out there. And then his mouth covers my pussy and I lose it. My ex never did this, no one has tasted me. It kills me as much as it brings me back to life.
“Jaxson, oh fuck!” I cry out. The neighbors can hear, Riley can definitely hear, and I don’t care.
His mouth is warm and wet—it’s different. His tongue circles my clit instead of touching it directly, his lips close around my folds and his heat seeps into my opening. He starts to lick me in closer patterns, and then spread out more. I arch my back, closing my eyes until it burns, clenching at his hair and trapping him between my thighs. I call out a bunch of other things, but it doesn’t register to my brain. Only his ministrations, the high cliff he is driving me too.
It is so intense that I feel like I have left my body before I return and cannot escape the blinding pleasure. My clit is so sensitive it hurts when he continues, and my eyes drip as I cry out. I feel myself drifting towards another one, right on the cottail and just as intense, if not more. I feel like I might truly die right here.
I hadn’t noticed he stripped down until he slides up my body and rams his cock into me.
“Jaxson—” I gasp, my hands fly up to his biceps and I grip him tightly, my nails digging into the flesh of his skin.
His hard dark eyes bore into mine as I tremble from my last orgasm and adjust to him inside of me.
He is big, too big. I feel the burn start to seep in and he still sinks in deeper. I widen my knees as far as they will go to take him all in.
Jaxson keeps his eyes on mine, and bends down to kiss me softly. I kiss him back eagerly and it’s like that told him it was okay, because I don’t recognize him afterwards.
His fingers come up into my hair and clench at the nape, that way his forearms pin me down into the bed, and he widens his knees for more traction in his thrusts. After that I don’t even know what comes next.
He starts
to pound into me like a man possessed. The sheet rock of the wall rattles. My bed creaks and surrenders, but he continues. My pelvis digs into his each time, his tuft of dark hair scratches over my light one and he continues even harder. His cock seems to harden, able to control himself as he drives farther and faster.
His shoulders go slick with sweat, his forehead drips onto mine.
There is no time for even kissing, he is moving too fast and too hard. My breasts jostle and get caught on his hard chest above me.
My moans and pants don’t even have the time to finish before he comes along and makes me want to moan even more. I just end up cursing and drawing in too many breaths, driving myself dizzy and out of my mind. By a few minutes in, my body has completely surrendered. Is completely done for. He pulls at my hair and releases it, only to draw his hands down.
One goes around my knee and hooks it over his sculpted shoulder, the other clasps at my neck but doesn’t squeeze, his forearm presses the swell of my breasts there. After his repositioning, he goes back to his hard, even pace. Faster than the speed of my breathing, matching the rapid beat of my heart.
“Jaxson,” I fumble, “oh-oh-oh—” I can’t finish whatever it is I was going to say. There is too much going on.
My fourth orgasm hits me like a train, the fastest in the world. I feel myself falling into an endless pit, only to rise again and fall one more time. Or twice. I throb and clench until I feel a scolding heat inside me, spurting and flying into me with his last few pumps. He groans so deep in his chest it is part of him, part of me.
His heavy pants surface at my ear as he turns, laying his body over mine. I collapse and welcome his weight, wrapping my arms around him. I cup his face and lift him to kiss me, softly, just to remember how tender he can be. Because I can’t pretend that didn’t scare me. That I didn’t lose sight of him along the way. That ‘he’s an animal’ didn’t cross my mind.
But I’m not scared of him, I could never be.
