by Selena Kitt
Marcy’s jaw tightened. “I’m fine. They said I was fine. And if ever there was a night I needed a drink, this is it. Jax was right. I shouldn’t have gone out there. Good thing he took off so I didn’t have to face him.” She took a sip from the beer bottle and cringed as the warm, bitter liquid slid over her tongue.
“Fuck.”
“Yeah.” She took another sip and shuddered. How did people drink this stuff?
Two Step lifted an eyebrow. “I meant you and Jax.”
She snorted. “There was no me and Jax. That was something that ended before it began.”
“Sorry. Got confused the way you two were rolling around on the mats…”
“Training,” Marcy cut him off with a glare. “We were training.”
Two Step laughed. “Yeah. Training. If I had a girl who looked like you lying on top of me for hours every night, I’d tell her she needed more training, too.”
Marcy’s breath left her in a rush. “You don’t think…”
“Don’t ask me.” Two Step gestured toward the door. “Ask him.”
Marcy didn’t need to turn around. She sensed Jax behind her, felt his heat. But even if she hadn’t been so attuned to his presence, Val’s wide eyes and raised eyebrows would have given the game away.
“Hey, Jax. How’s that cup working out for you?” Val’s lips quivered with a repressed smile, and Marcy mentally crossed Val off her Christmas lists for the next ten years.
“Perfect.” His voice rolled over Marcy, deep and warm, bringing back memories of their night in the gym. She pushed away thoughts of that voice in her ear, filling her mind with deeply erotic images of the things he wanted to do to her body. Instead, she focused on Val smirking across the counter, Two Step’s blank expression, the steady drip of the faucet, and the gentle rattle of bottles on the counter as the heavy bass of Slayer pounded through Two Step’s house.
For a long moment, no one spoke. Marcy picked at the label on the beer bottle while Two Step and Val exchanged a glance. Sure, she was being rude, but she had every right to be. Didn’t she?
“I saw the fight,” Jax said.
“So you came to hear me say you were right?” She stared straight ahead. Afraid to turn around. Afraid to meet his gaze. Afraid the sight of him would make two weeks seem like two minutes and she’d want him all over again.
“No. I came to speak to you about something else. Come. We’ll go for a walk.”
Marcy stiffened at Jax’s commanding tone. Did he really think she’d go anywhere with him after he’d walked away without a good-bye?
“I’m busy right now.”
“Marcy…”
“Busy.”
“Actually, we’re not that busy,” Val said, a smile curling her evil lips. “I was just about to whip up a pitcher of margaritas, and Two Step was about to do a walk-around with that case of swill he passes off as beer.” She dropped her gaze to a furious Marcy. “Maybe you should go talk to him. He’s looking kinda down. Not the cheerful cup-buying Jax we saw in the store.”
Kill you, Marcy mouthed at Val before turning around and glaring at Jax. “No walk. Just talk. You have five minutes.”
He gave her a curt nod and followed her out to the balcony, closing the glass door behind them. A cool breeze ruffled Marcy’s hair, bringing with it the faint kiss of the ocean and memories of happier times. Family times. She hugged herself against the chill and longing for the sister she hadn’t spoken to in years.
Jax’s brow creased in a frown. “Cold?”
“We’re only here for five minutes. I’ll survive.”
“You don’t have to just survive.” He shrugged off his jacket, and before she could protest, he had wrapped it around her. Marcy steeled herself as the residual warmth of his body seeped into her skin. No way would one chivalrous gesture undo the damage he’d done. She gave him a begrudging thanks and then shrugged. “Say what you have to say, Jax. I was having a good time until you showed up.”
He raked his hand through his hair and sighed. “I was an ass.”
“Yes, you were.”
“I don’t do this.” He swallowed and gripped the railing. “I don’t usually get involved. I move so frequently it’s difficult to sustain any kind of relationship.”
Marcy shivered despite the warmth of his jacket. “Is that really it, or do you move to avoid getting involved?”
“Maybe a bit of both.” He moved closer to her. So close she was surrounded by his scent, warm and rich, sensual. Her defenses began to crumble, and she was almost overwhelmed with the desire to wrap herself around him and hold him tight. Hold him here.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have left you before the event. You needed me, and I wasn’t there for you. I don’t know if I could have made a difference, but I could have tried. We all have different ways of dealing with challenges. Running away is mine.” He cupped her jaw in his warm palm, and every cell in her body heated, locking her in place even though part of her knew the best—safest—thing to do would be to walk away.
“But I came back this time. I was there for your whole fight. I was kicking myself the whole time I was cheering you on.”
“You grovel well.” She leaned into his touch, and he stroked his thumb over her cheek.
“I want you, Marcy.” His voice dropped to a low murmur. “Like I’ve never wanted anyone else before. I fucking ache with wanting you.”
“Could’ve fooled me.” She tried to keep her tone light, cool, detached, but her words came out in a breathy whisper, betraying her desire.
“I tried.” He pulled her against him and bent down to brush his lips over her cheek. Marcy sighed, and he caught her breath in a searing kiss, parting her lips with his tongue to ravage her mouth, hot and demanding.
Marcy pulled away, breaking their kiss. “Not hard enough.”
He clasped her hand and skimmed it down his body to the bulge in his jeans. “Definitely hard enough.”
She laughed. “And here I didn’t think you had a sense of humor.”
“There’s a lot about me you don’t know.”
“Tell me.” Marcy pressed her hand against his erection and felt him harden under her touch. “Tell me something about you. Maybe if I knew you better, it would be easier to forgive you.”
His voice dropped, husky and low. “I was the bad kid in school until my mother enrolled me in a kid-friendly MMA class at a local gym. I found a focus for my aggression and a hidden talent for beating up local bullies.”
“Hmm. I like the idea of bad-ass Jax.” She stroked along his rigid length, moist heat flooding her sex as she imagined his thick cock inside her. “Especially because I was a bit of a rebel, too, except I was more of the head-banging, death metal, fuck-the-world kind. Tell me something else. Did you want to grow up to be a pro fighter?” She tugged open his fly, releasing his shaft, and then wrapped her hand around him. Jax groaned.
“Marcy … not here.”
With a wicked smile, she gave his cock a long, slow stroke, admiring the contrast of velvety softness over hard steel. “I’m waiting.”
His ragged exhalation tickled her cheek, and he grasped her shoulders as if to steady himself. “I enjoyed fighting, but I’d always been interested in psychology and helping people deal with problems. I had to give up that dream when my mom became ill. She didn’t have any insurance, and fighting was the quickest and easiest way to make money to cover her medical bills. And I was good at it. In the end, though, the money bought her a few years but not a cure.”
Marcy’s heart squeezed, and she quickly pulled away. “Oh, Jax…”
He covered her hand with his own and threaded his fingers through hers. “I need you. But not just like this. I want more. All of you, or at least as much as you’re willing to give. Submit to me.”
Wet, needy, burning with desire, she whispered, “Yes.”
Countdown to crazy hot sex.
Ten minutes of chit chat before socially acceptable to leave Two Step’s party
without appearing: a) desperate; b) obvious; or c) horny.
Two minutes of driving before Jax demanded she remove her panties.
Three seconds to remove said panties.
Four miles of sheer terror mixed with dripping desire as Jax slid the fingers of one hand deep into her pussy while attempting to steer his car with the other.
Five flicks of Jax’s thumb over her throbbing clit as she ground against his hand and begged for release.
Six refusals dropping from Jax’s lips.
Seven curse words dropping from hers.
Eight floors to travel in the elevator between the parking garage and his hotel room.
Nine minutes before the building manager asked through the intercom why the elevator had stopped.
Ten fingers sliding under her shirt, unfastening her bra, cupping her breasts, and pinching her nipples until she moaned.
Eleven steps from the elevator to Jax’s door.
Twelve long seconds of waiting while Jax fumbled with his keys.
And then the door opened.
Before she could blink, Jax had her up against the wall, his hand on her sternum, his thick thigh rough between her legs. The door shut behind them with a bang, and then his mouth was on hers, his tongue delving deep before he tugged her T-shirt and bra up and over her head to reveal her breasts, already freed from their restraint in the elevator.
“Stop.” She drew in a ragged breath, then scored her fingernails down his shirt until she reached the hem. “What about yours?”
“Can’t wait.” With a sharp yank on her ponytail, he jerked her head back, exposing her neck to the heated slide of his lips. Then he latched on to her left breast, drawing her nipple into his mouth, sucking and nipping until she was writhing against him.
“Need to touch you, Jax.” She tugged at his belt, her little finger skimming over the steel of his erection beneath his fly.
With an irritated growl, he grasped her hand and tugged it away. “You don’t touch unless I say you can. Especially now. I won’t last if you wrap that sweet hand around me again.”
“What about if I do this?” She ground her hips against his jean-covered shaft, smiling when his cock hardened between them.
“My little fighter’s being a naughty girl.” His eyes gleamed in the dim light. “How should I punish her this time?”
Marcy stilled, scarcely dared to breathe, as he pulled yet another fantasy from the darkest recesses of her mind. “I thought you said you couldn’t wait. No time for punishing naughty girls.”
“Changed my mind. Turn around.” He spun her to face the wall. “Skirt off, then hands on the wall. Legs spread. I know exactly how we’ll keep you in line.”
His feet thudded over the carpet as he walked across the room, decorated in ultra modern white and more white. From the bedding to the curtains and from the carpet to the furniture, not a smidgen of color marred any surface, like an untouched canvas, a snow-swept montage.
Marcy slid her skirt down over her hips, kicking it off her ankles and toward the front door. Then she took up her position. For the first time ever, she felt totally and utterly vulnerable, exposed. But, curiously, not ashamed.
Moments later, Jax returned. She sensed him behind her, although she hadn’t heard his footsteps. He glided his palm around her waist, pulling her against the bare expanse of his rock-hard chest. Anticipation ratcheted through her, and she trembled.
“Do you want to play, Marcy?” he murmured. “We haven’t discussed limits, but I would love to see how you respond to a belt or a flogger.”
“God, yes.” She turned her head and kissed his cheek, shivering when his five o’clock shadow scraped against her heated skin.
His hand slid over her hip and along the curve of her sex. Then he thrust one thick finger deep into her slippery entrance. Marcy cried out as arousal flooded her veins.
“So wet, and we’ve only just started.” He chuckled softly, pulling away. “Stay still and don’t turn around.”
She heard the clink of a belt buckle followed by the unmistakable slide of leather. Oh god. No. Looking back over her shoulder, she tried to find him in the shadows. “Jax—”
“Eyes forward.”
She turned her gaze back to the wall, and suddenly he was covering her with his body, his chest pressed against her back, his heat soaking into her skin, his scent enveloping her. Soothing.
“Does the idea of being spanked with the belt scare you?” His breath was hot and moist in her ear as he kicked her legs apart, sending streaks of white lightning straight to her core.
“Yes,” she whispered. “But it isn’t a limit for me.”
“A belt can be used for pleasure,” he murmured as he slid the doubled thickness of the belt between her legs, brushing the cool leather along the curve of her hot, wet sex. “Or pain. But you aren’t ready for that type of pain. Not yet.”
A thrill of fear shot through her, and she moaned at the deliciously erotic sensation of hard leather pressed against soft flesh. But her relief was short-lived. Jax dropped the belt and trailed the soft suede ends of a flogger down her arms.
“Has anyone used a flogger on you?”
Marcy swallowed hard, her gaze riveted to the soft black tails caressing her arm. “Yes. Once. But he was too gentle with it.” Now there was an understatement. Preston had wielded the flogger like a feather duster, barely touching her skin, tickling her until she wanted to scream with frustration.
He brushed the flogger over her hip, down her stomach, and then wiggled the tendrils over her bare sex. Marcy tilted her hips, seeking more sensation as moisture flooded her pussy.
“I won’t be gentle,” he said softly. “But I won’t go hard. Not as hard as I suspect you’d like. Definitely not hard enough to send you into subspace. That’s something we have to work up to. I just wanted to give you a taste. Gauge your reaction.”
“Punish me?” She couldn’t keep the hopeful note from her voice.
Jax laughed. “Oh yes. If that’s what you want, I’m more than happy to punish you. Do you remember your safe words?”
Marcy swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Red to stop. Yellow to slow down. Green to keep going.”
“Perfect. Now brace yourself.”
She barely had time to draw in a breath before she felt the soft thud of the flogger against her ass, a gentle pressure as if he was pushing her forward. He repeated the stroke on her other cheek, and then he started a soft, sensual rhythm, pausing only to brush the tips of the tails along her soaking folds.
Marcy’s body heated as he increased the pressure. Although her body registered pain, the sensation quickly morphed into pleasure. She cried out as need, fierce and unrelenting, crashed over her in a pulsing wave.
“Use your safe words if you need me to stop,” he murmured as he struck her again.
She inhaled deeply, breathing in the rich scent of his cologne—of him—and tried to steady herself. But despite her best efforts, a violent shudder shook her body, drawing her precariously close to climax.
“So responsive.” He smoothed his hand over the flaming skin of her ass and then followed the cleft to her folds. Slicking her moisture up and around her clit, he groaned. “God, Marcy. Knowing this gets you off … you don’t know what that does to me.”
He pulled away and struck her with a slow, steady rhythm that left her panting and aching with need. Her limbs turned liquid as sensation chased away all rational thought, spinning her away…
No. She wasn’t spinning. Or flying. Instead, she was cradled in Jax’s arms, safe and warm as he made his way across the room.
“We have to stop.” He spoke softly, half to himself. “I’ve already gone further than I wanted to go. I never imagined you’d respond so well.”
“Please, no…” She didn’t want him to stop. A fog hovered at the fringes of her consciousness, the promise of emotional release, a place where nothing mattered. She wanted him to take her there. Set her free.
He made lov
e to her instead.
Gently, tenderly, he laid her on the soft down duvet covering his massive bed. As he stripped off her clothes, she caught glimpses of DIY and fight magazines strewn across the carpet. Protein shake tumblers and fight gear spilled out of the suitcase on his dresser.
Before she could ask any questions, his fingers skimmed over her abdomen, sending a renewed burst of endorphins singing through her veins. His hand followed the curve of her sex to stroke her wet entrance, and Marcy trembled under his touch, her questions giving way to the throb of desire between her thighs and the slide of cool silk over her burning skin.
“Jax, please.”
But he was in no hurry. He knew just how far he could take her, teasing her with his fingers, his lips, his tongue, stopping before she reached her peak, until she burned to have him inside her, out of her mind with need. And when he finally covered her with his body, slid his cock into her aching center, filling her completely, something shifted in the air between them. She lost the coach and found the man.
“Oh god.” Her breath caught as her inner walls stretched to accommodate him, a delicious pain. “You feel so good. Perfect.”
“I dream of you.” He dipped his head to nuzzle her neck. “When I’m in the shower, in bed, even running in the morning, I imagine you’re with me.” He inhaled deeply and nipped the sensitive skin between her neck and shoulder blade. “I catch your scent on my shirts, and it drives me crazy.”
He angled his hips, pulling out and then plunging even farther than before, ripping a gasp from her throat. She bit her lip at the exquisite sensation of having him so deep, buried to the hilt, connected to her in a way no one else had ever been, body and soul.
“I wanted you the moment I saw you.” He deepened his thrusts, his cock swelling, hardening with every stroke. “And as I got to know you, I wanted you even more.”
A bubble of emotion rose in Marcy’s chest, and she choked back a sob, even as she writhed beneath him.
“Tell me what you want.” His hand drifted down between her thighs, his thumb circling her clit. “There isn’t a need you have that I don’t want to fill.”
