“Jax, please,” I beg.
He slides his hands under my ass, tipping my pelvis up, allowing him to drive in and out. He pounds into me. I meet him stroke for stroke, my body becoming more and more lubricated, the pressure in my pelvis growing tighter.
“Jax, I’m going to come,” I hiss against his lips, locking my hip muscles.
“Let go, I’ve got you.”
I know he does. He has all night. As he always has.
The pressure continues to build. I bear down, welcoming the rush of pleasure as my lower body contracts around him, my muscles milking him hard, my body shuddering with desire.
“Yes,” I say, pulling him closer, wrapping my legs around his hips.
Jax stills, his cock jerking, his cum emptying deep inside me, coating me. He continues to rock gently before collapsing, his head buried in the side of my neck.
I rub soothing circles over his back, enjoying the masculine weight of him on my body, between my thighs.
“That was one way to wake up,” I say, kissing the side of his head.
Jax presses up, his boyish grin something I’ve missed.
“You always did like an orgasm alarm.”
He chuckles.
I raise a hand and run it through his messy hair.
“It’s been a long time.”
“Too long,” he says, kissing my nose before rolling off me.
He flops onto his back before drawing me into his side. Surprising myself, I go willingly, resting my head on his shoulder.
We lie there, together. Our bodies touching, our voices quiet.
My brain is empty. For the first time, in a long time, the incessant noise has stopped.
My phone pings on the bedside table next to me.
I groan.
“No rest for the wicked, isn’t that what they say?” Jax says, with a chuckle.
I grab my phone and stare at the screen.
Elijah.
What does he want?
ELIJAH:
Jax is booked into room 350.
The suite next to mine.
Three dots appear, followed by a photo of Jax and me entering the elevator, his hand on my lower back. The picture itself isn’t much, but it’s the look we’re giving each other.
“Shit!” I say, throwing back the covers and standing up.
