by BJ Harvey
“First round, quick,” he says, gently biting the inside of my leg, his wet tongue soothing the sting left in his wake. “Next one, I’m taking my time.”
“Whatever… you… say… Jesus. Just get me there,” I moan.
“Fuck I love you,” he groans before moving into overdrive, three fingers, long strokes, his tongue circling me and then the master stroke. A hard rake of his teeth on my clit sets me off, and there’s no way to stop the climax barreling down on me. I lock my knees and roll my pelvis against his face, screaming a myriad of obscenities as wave after wave of red-hot pleasure courses through me. He growls out my name and jerks against me, splashes of his release hitting my calves, setting me off again.
Jax gently pulls me back and down until I’m sitting in his lap, realizing belatedly that his jeans may be mid-thigh, but he’s still wearing his tee, whereas I’m in a bra and nothing else.
I press my hand to his jaw and kiss him, tasting myself as I stroke his tongue with mine. His cock twitches against my hip, making my lips curve against his.
Pulling back, I meet his still-hooded eyes, the flames of lust still burning bright.
“First round?” I ask, lifting a brow.
“Oh, yeah,” he says, licking his lips before smirking at me.
“Pretty confident there.” My wide smile matches his and totally gives me away.
He lies back on the floor and reaches around my hip, pulling me down until I’m straddling him. My hands go to his chest to hold myself up as his rock-hard cock presses against my sensitive core.
I lean down, resting on an arm braced by his head. “You must be pretty pent up to be raring to go again.”
His grin is absolutely filthy. His hand cradles my jaw before he pulls me down, slanting his head to give me a spine-tingling, deep and dirty kiss that leaves me with absolutely no doubt that round two will just be the start of our night of debauchery.
I nip his bottom lip, loving the rumbling groan in his chest.
“Should we move to the bedroom?” I murmur, turning my head as his mouth explores my throat.
He runs a hand into my hair and gently holds me in place as he locks eyes with mine. “Do we need to? I’m clean and I’d love to feel you bare and wrapped around my cock.
“I’m covered. Besides, you’re a really good pillow.”
“Good,” he says. “Let’s see how I do as a mattress.” He bucks his hips, lifting me up, his hand going between us before he positions himself at my entrance and I drive myself home.
He laces our fingers together as he slows the pace, pushing inside me in long strokes. Gripping his hands tightly, I dip my head to mesh my lips with his, loving the feel of his muscles tensing and releasing beneath me with every thrust up. I moan into his mouth, every atom in my body attuned to his. My impending climax threatens to tear me apart in what I know will be the most devastating pleasure. I arch my back to welcome it, rolling my hips against his over and over. Our kiss turns savage, his groans rough, my whimpers louder. I drop my head back, squeezing his hand and tightening my thighs against his hips as I cry out my release. In the blink of an eye, he rolls me over. He thrusts into me harshly, once, twice, three more times. Opening my eyes, I watch him fall over the edge, our gazes locked, his mouth devouring mine as his strokes slow to a gentle rocking.
His lips roam my face, peppering kisses on my nose, my cheek, and jaw, then he buries his face in my neck. He presses his weight down on me in a way that I love, and I feel cocooned by him as I float back down to Earth. My lips are curved in a smile I don’t think will ever wane.
He worked for it—and for me. He won me over, yet I’m the winner.
“I love you, beautiful. In a way I know I’ll never stop,” his whispers, sealing his oath with a kiss.
“I love you too,” I whisper, holding him tight and knowing I’m not ever going to need to let him go.
I’ve come to the end of my journey. I’ve found myself. Not in a man, like my parents always told me I needed, but by standing strong and putting my expectations for myself and others out into the world. I got back exactly what I wanted and needed.
Jax is my reward, my pot of gold at the end of my rainbow.
A reward I look forward to enjoying for a long time.
Jax
I glance at the clock, willing the time to speed up so I can close my office door and get to the house for a late night tiling session. My brothers and I have been working every spare hour on the pink lady, trying to save money and do whatever work we can do ourselves. We’re about two weeks away from finishing. The aim is to get the staging company in after we get back from Vegas and then cross fingers, toes, eyes, and legs that we get a good sale.
I’m looking over my notes for my last intro to photography class, in four days time, when my cell phone vibrates on my desk.
Ronnie—Dear Professor, I’m writing to ask that I be excused from class today due to the fact I cannot walk straight. Many thanks, Well Fucked and Still Can’t Get Enough.
Jax—Dear Well Fucked and Still Can’t Get Enough, the answer is no because if I have to go to class instead of crawling back into bed with my sexy AF girlfriend, then you can walk bow-legged.
Ronnie—But Professor, I’ll do ANYTHING not to leave the soft, warm, silky-smooth sheets of my bed. They feel so comforting against my skin.
Jax—I must insist that you grace my class with your presence. If not, I’ll be forced to order you to my office for disciplinary action.
Ronnie—Excuse my candor, sir, but what exactly would such disciplinary action involve? I have been known to be a little on the adventurous side.
Jax—And now I’m threatening to punch a hole through my desk. Thanks for that.
Ronnie—I’ve been told I’m good with wood.
I chuckle and turn the phone over, returning my attention to the papers in front of me.
A knock on my office door echoes through the room.
“Come in.”
A meek-looking Chelsea steps inside, her hand grabbing the door and pushing it closed.
“We need to leave the door open,” I say.
“Sorry, Professor Cook. I just thought student matters were private.”
I lean back in my chair and lock eyes with hers. “They are, but I also prefer to have the door open to avoid any situations that can be misconstrued.” I pick up my phone and hold it in my hand while sweeping my arm over my desk. “Please take a seat,” I say, watching while she sits down and crosses her legs. I lean into my desk. “How can I help you today, Chelsea?”
“Um…” She looks down and even bites her lip. Is she honestly going for the good girl/innocent student angle?
“Okay, so I’ve been working hard on my portfolio, but I’m still a few pieces short, so I need an extension to the deadline. My dad said that if I asked, you would be able to grant me more time.”
I slide my chair back and reach over to my bookcase, pulling out a folder labeled academic policy.
Moving back to the desk, I stand and lean over the desk, open the file, and flip through the pages until I find what I’m looking for—the section on extensions.
I read through the words, not missing her fidgeting in her seat, flipping her hair, and running her hands over her clothes as if to straighten them.
Putting my index finger at the top of the page, I draw it down until I find what I’m looking for. I look up and see her smiling at me.
“Chelsea, how long have you known about the requirement to submit a portfolio of photographic work which makes up half of your semester grade for this paper?” I ask, one brow quirked.
“First day of class, Professor Cook.”
I would normally tell a student to call me Jax, but my gut is telling me I need to keep this as formal as possible. Knowing my luck, this girl probably gets off on the teacher-student fantasy.
“Correct,” I say, sitting back down and rereading the document in front of me.
&
nbsp; My phone vibrates again, but I ignore it.
“The student handbook and college policy state that deadline extensions are at the discretion of the teacher, and are to be given only in the event of extraordinary circumstances beyond the control of the student. For example,” I say, referring to the guide, “bereavement, serious illness, or a natural disaster.” I close the book and cross my arms over my chest, placing my forearms on the desk. “If any of those reasons apply in your case, I’d be happy to offer you a deadline extension.”
She pales ever so slightly but then steels herself, the change almost instant as she goes from friendly to flirty.
She stands and leans forward over the desk, causing her loose-necked top to gape open. She licks her lips and her gaze turns hooded. Even if I were single and hard up for it, this little act wouldn’t get a twitch. “Surely you can make an exception… just this once.” Her tone is faux sweet as if she’s attempting to be… sexy?
I keep my eyes glued to hers and my expression blank.
There’s no way I’m letting this little vixen complete her mission to compromise my job or my relationship. I’ve worked too hard for both, but Ronnie is everything to me. I can freelance again. I could just flip houses with Jamie. Hell, I could start over and combine the two and do real estate photography.
But I won’t ever find another Ronnie.
I don’t want to. She’s one of a kind.
“Chelsea, this is highly inappropriate. I think you should leave.”
She straightens and proves her balls are bigger than mine when she feigns offense, one hand on her heart, her mouth gaping open in a shocking gasp. “I’m not sure what you are insinuating, Professor. I only came in here to request the extension.”
I’m now bored with this entire situation. After pushing my chair back, I stand and round the desk, walk straight to the door, and hold it, looking over at her expectantly. She huffs and turns toward me just as my phone vibrates a-fucking-gain, and it takes everything in me not to groan in frustration. If the text is from who I think it’s from, I may have just lost the upper hand.
Unfortunately for me, Chelsea glances down and sees my screen light up. Even worse, the first two lines of the message too.
When she moves toward me and the door, her mouth is curved up in a grin that would make the Cheshire cat proud.
“Thank you for your time, Professor… or should that be Ken.” To describe her tone as smug is a massive understatement. That tells me everything I need to know.
There’s one thing people like Chelsea don’t seem to realize about someone like me. I may be the fun guy, the live life-by-the-seat-of-his-pants guy, the joker, the player, the heartbreaker, a guy’s best friend, or a girl’s crush, but I’m staunchly protective of everyone important to me. My brothers and sister, my parents, April, Axel, and Betty, and Ronnie.
I close my door—official office hours be damned—and walk over to my desk, grabbing my phone and swiping the screen to read the message and see what the damage is.
Ronnie—Hey Ken, let me know when this Barbie can bring you dinner at the pink house. I can’t wait to see how much has been done already. Love you.
I’m more determined than ever. If Chelsea gets any ideas about doing something to get her way, it’s not gonna fly.
And I’m going to take preemptive steps to make sure of it.
Locking my office door, I bring the phone to my ear, listening to the ringtone as I wait for the call to connect.
“Hello, Jaxon,” Joey answers cheerfully.
“Hey, Joey. How are you?”
“I can’t complain. Far too much work, and not enough vacation, but I’m booked on a Caribbean cruise in three weeks’ time, so that’s something to look forward to.”
I laugh. “Are you actually gonna make it on the cruise this time?” When Joey tried to go away last year, he broke his leg four days before he was due to leave. The time before that, he got shingles.”
“Young folk these days. Laughing at an old man’s misfortune.”
“Laughing with you, not at you. There’s a huge difference,” I reply.
“Right. Now tell me this is just a social call, and I won’t believe you. So what’s up?”
“Portfolios are due in four days for Intro to Photography. I’ve just had a visit from a student requesting an extension, which I have denied due to the lack of a compelling reason to give her one.”
“Let me guess; she tried it on?”
My eyes bug out and I literally stop dead in my tracks, halfway to my destination. “Should I admit to being shocked that you guessed correctly? I mean, is this a common occurrence in the world of academia?”
“Yes, and no,” he sighs. “The freshmen are very timid when they attempt it. The seniors can get quite sneaky and can vaguely intimate it, but nothing overt is ever said.”
“Oh, this is definitely a senior.”
“Right. So unless you took her up on the offer—which I know you’d never do—you’re calling to cover your ass?”
“It gets worse…”
“Jax. Do I have to drag this out of you? There’s a bottle of Belvedere with my name on it.”
“She saw a text from Ronnie pop up on-screen just as she was leaving.”
“Hmm,” he says, humming down the phone. “Was it incriminating?”
“Not in the way you’re thinking. But it was more than obvious that she means something to me.”
“So this is you using your get-out-of-jail-free card?”
“I don’t want this to blow up in my face.”
“Good. Because it won’t,” he says, unequivocally. “You’ve done everything right. I haven’t had any complaints and until I do, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”
“It’s not me who will get burned here, Joey, and we both know that.”
He goes quiet, and if it wasn’t for the low hum of jazz music in the background, I might’ve thought he’d hung up on me.
“I never thought I’d see the day that Jaxon Cook fell in love. I bet you glow with that shit too, don’t you?” he muses, and I burst out laughing, earning curious glances from students as I pass by.
“So don’t worry until you tell me there’s something to worry about?” I ask, needing confirmation that I’m stressing over nothing. There’s far too much to do in the next two weeks before Vegas, then the four weeks after that before the wedding. There’s also the house, not to mention the decision I need to make about the permanent contract I’ve been offered to continue working at the college that’s sitting in my messenger bag.
The four-day break in Vegas can’t come quickly enough.
“Yep. Don’t worry until I’m worried. Just get through your final classes and then sign that damn contract for me so I can relax in the knowledge I will have a full teaching staff for the fall semester. Then I can go cruising, you can go send the bachelorhood of that big brother of yours off in style, and hopefully, if Veronica’s portfolio is as good as I’m anticipating, she’ll have her own graduation to celebrate.”
“Fingers crossed.”
“Somehow, I don’t think she’ll need it. That woman of yours has one of the best eyes I’ve ever seen, other than yours.” Damn. It still feels good whenever he dishes out praise, mainly because Joey Blackman doesn’t placate or blow smoke up your ass. He calls a spade a spade.
“Should I tell her that?” I tease.
“Don’t you dare,” he growls.
I round the corner and stop outside Bryant’s office door. “I knew you’d say that. Don’t worry, Joey, your secret admiration for her is safe with me.”
“Go away, Jax. You’re keeping me from a well-earned drink. Finals are coming up and that always makes me grumpy.”
“You’re grumpy anyway. Finals week just gives you an excuse.”
“Goodbye, Jax.” He ends the call before I can continue riling him up. It’s one of the perks of having Joey as my mentor. He loves me regardless of
the shit I say to him.
My hand goes to turn the handle of Bry’s office just as the man himself swings open the door, his eyes wide when he sees me.
“Well, fancy seeing you here. I was coming to see whether you wanted to grab a drink. I’ve had a shit day and going by the look on your face, you have too. One drink before we get our tiling on?” he says, arching a brow.
“That’s the best thing I’ve heard all afternoon.”
“Care to share?” Bry asks as he locks his door and we make our way off-campus.
“Let’s get a beer in our hands first. I definitely need alcohol for this conversation.”
Then I remember I never responded to Ronnie’s text, and now I don’t know what to say or whether I even should say anything to her about this. There isn’t even a this to explain right now. This might be nothing, and she’s got her portfolio to finish and two finals next week in other classes. She doesn’t need the distraction. I’m the study break, not the study brake.
I pull my phone out of my pocket and send a reply. But even being told not to worry doesn’t stop the little niggle of doubt in my gut that’s telling me it won’t be the last we’ll hear from Chelsea.
All I can do is try and put her out of my mind for tonight.
Easier said than done. But the cold beer certainly helps.
Ronnie
I wake up to an empty bed. Jax’s side is cold, meaning he’s been up for a while. This isn’t unusual though. Between end-of-semester grading, finals, and early starts at the house on his days off, he often gets up early. Since the Pink Lady is so close to completion, I offered he move in with me temporarily, especially since we’ve been spending near on every night together anyway.
We have nothing to do today except catch a plane, so there’s no good reason for him not to be lying next to me. Except after disappearing outside for a long phone call last night, Jax told me something urgent had popped up and, along with Bryant, he’d fly out on Friday morning to meet up with the rest of us. It’s disappointing and has dampened my excitement a bit, but I know he wouldn’t do it unless it were important.
