He positions himself behind me, and I can feel him pressing against me, the anticipation building. "This is good, I'd like to feel you deeper," I tell him, because even in this vulnerable position I need him to know I'm choosing this.
He responds by running his hand down my spine, each touch deliberate. Then he's pushing inside me from this angle, hitting spots that make my breath catch, the fullness drawing groans from us both.
He starts moving with measured rhythm, pulling almost completely out before thrusting back in, and the depth from this position is overwhelming in the best way. His palm connects with my ass in a spank that's firm enough to sting, the sound echoing in the room, and the sensation sends heat straight through me.
"Again," I demand, because I want more of that, want to feel claimed in ways that have nothing to do with control and everything to do with being wanted.
He complies, spanking my ass again, harder this time, and I arch back into him with sounds that are pure need. His hands are everywhere now—one gripping my hip hard enough to bruise, the other alternating between spanking and soothing the heated skin, creating contrast that drives me higher.
"You're perfect like this," he says, voice rough with restraint he's barely maintaining. "Taking everything I give you and asking for more."
The words combined with the relentless rhythm and the sting of his hand on my ass builds toward something I can feel approaching but can't quite reach yet. I'm chasing it, pushing back against him with each thrust, needing just slightly more.
"Touch yourself for me," he says. I want to feel you fall apart."
I slide one hand between my legs, fingers finding my clit, circling it with increasing pressure while he continues driving into me from behind. The combination of sensations—his cock hitting deep, his hand on my ass, my own fingers working my clit—pushes me rapidly toward the edge.
"Jax—" His name comes out desperate, my body already starting to tighten around him.
"That's it. Let go." His hand comes down on my ass again, harder than before, and the sharp sensation combined with everything else sends me over.
I come with my face pressed into the mattress, sounds muffled against fabric, my entire body shaking with the force of it. He doesn't slow down, keeps thrusting through my orgasm, prolonging it until I'm trembling and oversensitive and reaching for the sheets just to have something to hold onto.
"Fuck, Lana—" He's losing his rhythm now, thrusts becoming erratic, chasing his own release. "You feel so good."
"Come for me," I manage to say, wanting to feel him lose control, wanting evidence that I affect him as much as he affects me.
He does, both hands gripping my hips now, pulling me back onto him as he finishes with my name torn from his throat. I feel him pulsing inside me, feel the way his entire body tenses before he collapses forward, his chest against my back, both of us struggling to remember how breathing works.
We stay like that for a long moment, neither of us moving, just existing in the aftermath of something rawer and more physical than our previous encounters. Eventually he pulls out, gets up to discard the condom, and returns to pull me against his chest. I go willingly, needing the contact after using sex to channel anger into something productive.
"Better?" he asks after our breathing has normalized.
"Better." And it is better. The anger is still there but it's manageable now, channeled into something productive rather than just corrosive. "Thank you for letting me—"
"You don't need to thank me for that." He's already pulling me closer. "Lana, you also get to decide what happens between us. Always. I'm here making sure you have that choice."
The statement is simple but carries weight I wasn't prepared for. Jax isn't faking concern or pretending to have authority he doesn't have. He's just giving me space to choose while making it clear he's available for whatever I decide I need.
We lie there for a while longer, neither of us speaking, just existing in the aftermath of anger-sex that was more about reclaiming power than actual anger. Eventually I pull back enough to see his face.
"The board can't force me out," I say, returning to the problem I was trying to escape. "Legally, they need cause for removal and refusing to capitulate to Ezra isn't cause."
"They can make your position untenable though. Make leadership so difficult that resignation becomes easier than fighting." He's being pragmatic rather than reassuring. "What do you want to do?"
"I want to survive Wednesday's meeting. Then I want to deal with the board once immediate threats are resolved." The strategy is forming even as I speak it. "If I settle with Ezra on Wednesday, if The Glasshouse decides I'm not worth killing, then the board's concerns become moot. Organizational stability returns, donors stop asking questions, and Thomas's power play loses justification."
"So Wednesday becomes even more important. Ezra needs to walk away satisfied, The Glasshouse needs to believe you're not a threat, and you need to emerge with enough credibility that the board can't justify removal." He's processing the interconnected goals. "That's a lot riding on one meeting."
"I know. But it's the only path forward that doesn't involve surrendering something." I sit up, already reaching for clothes because lying in bed feels indulgent when we have twenty-four hours before the most important meeting of my life. "What did Brandon say about apartments?"
"Same three options we talked about. He's ready to schedule showings whenever you are." He's getting dressed too, returning to tactical mode. "After Wednesday, once this is behind us."
"After Wednesday. One crisis at a time." I'm buttoning my blouse, transforming back from thoroughly satisfied to professionally composed.
"Did you tell him about tomorrow? About what we're actually walking into?"
"He knows. He'll be outside Mira's office with two others from Blackwood. If anything goes wrong, we have immediate backup." He's pulling on his shirt, tucking it in with practiced efficiency. "Lana, we're going to get you through tomorrow. You play the ignorant widow, convince them you're not worth eliminating, and this ends."
