“Please,” I cry, my head dropping back, my cheeks and body burning up.
“Please, what?”
I can’t reply, I’m too far gone.
Jax presses another finger into my pulsing channel. He curls them upwards. My hips jolt as he begins to move them up and down quickly.
He holds the vibrator in place as he continues to play with my G-spot, stimulating me from the inside and out. Pressure builds, almost too much for my body to take. I twist beneath his onslaught, trying to escape, but he’s relentless.
I bite down on my arm. My body contracts, muscles clenching as the pressure builds, and I finally let go.
“Oh, oh…”
Jax adds another finger, gently sliding them in and out as my muscles contract violently around him. Shudders wrack mybody as I totally let go, my cum squirting out of my body at the onslaught, soaking Jax’s hand and the bedsheet beneath us.
“Oh my—” I say, trying to get my brain to restart.
I move to pull away, but Jax places a hand on my stomach, removing the vibrator from my clit. He has dropped his robe and moves between my legs, gently sliding his warm, hard cock into my still contracting body.
“Yes.”
I moan at the sensation of him filling me, the warmth of his body adding the missing piece.
I slide my hands to his ass, digging my fingers into the firm muscle. He begins to move, and I join him until we both fly over the edge and into the abyss.
CHAPTER 51
JAX
Iawaken to the sound of drilling.
What the?
My eyes go to the clock. Nine thirty. Kat is nowhere in sight, her robe draped over the back of one of the chairs, the chair I sat in last night.
Last night. Wow. I’m not usually one to take control, but I had the feeling Kat needed it if she was going to get any sleep. After we made love, she had all but passed out. I watched her for a while before heading back into the spare room. There’s definitely something off. Did her father close off the room for some reason?
The drilling starts again.
I get up, pulling on my abandoned robe.
I make my way towards the incessant sound.
Kat is standing by the wall, drill in hand, pressing the drill bit against the now exposed paintwork.
She must sense my arrival, as she stops and turns to face me.
I look at the back panel of wood, now lying against the side wall.
“It was screwed in place. I found where they covered the screws, dug them out,” Kat says, as if this is an everyday occurrence for her.
“And?”
“The plaster work behind it is amateurish and thin. There’s definitely something else.”
I move closer and run my hand over the plaster. She’s right, it’s poorly done, even if it was going to be hidden behind a bookcase.
I tap on the wall. It doesn’t sound overly hollow, but then, if there’s a solid door behind it.
