“What do you want, Rabbit?” he asks. He uses the hand not holding the makeshift leash to grip my hip, holding me still. “Tell me what you want.”
“Fuck me.”
“Not good enough.” He drags his cock over my pussy again. “Tell me you’re mine.”
I do because I am. The last shred of my dignity dissolves, and I beg, a stream of broken, desperate pleas that make him groan. “I have always been yours. Now please Jax, fuck your pussy.”
By the time he’s sliding his cock into me, I’m so lost in sensation I can barely think. “I wish I could see you,” I breathe.
It takes no time. All the lights in the studio turn on at once.
“Oh—” I only have time to adjust and say, “How did you?—”
Then I see it: us. My reflection in the massive wall mirrors. Me, bent over, one leg stretched high on the barre, his shirt around my neck like a leash. Him behind me, his body a coiled spring of muscle and need, his eyes burning red as he drives into me.
“Never mind. Turn it off, turn it off!” I cry out, humiliated.
He chuckles, a dark, smug sound, and the lights go off. “You didn’t seem to mind an audience before. In fact, I seem to remember you getting even wetter when you realized they were watching.”
“I don’t know. I’m getting older, okay? My body is not?—”
“Scotch!” he cuts me off. He tightens the shirt on my neck and sinks deeper into me, making me gasp. “You are, have always been, and always will be the most beautiful thing in this world, and I won’t hear otherwise. Do you hear me, Rabbit?”
I don’t respond.
“Answer me,” he says, tightening the shirt again.
“Yes,” I choke out.
“Yes what?”
“Yes, I hear you.”
“Good,” he huffs, his lips brushing my ear. “Now, should I edge you until you cry, or do you want to come for me now?”
“Fuck, Jax,” I whimper. “I was so close to moving on.”
“Yeah? The thing about us, Sisk, is… there will never be moving on. Just trying to survive.” He bites my ear, hard. “I will always crave you, and every time I lose control, I will stumble in here and you will open your legs for me. I don’t care who we’re with, what we’re doing, how old we are. I don’t even fucking care if you’re married. Because this need… only you can satisfy.” He pushes harder and deeper, his grip on my hip turning bruising as he buries himself with a deep groan. The feeling of him coming undone inside me is what sends me over, and my orgasm comes in a shattering wave that rips a scream from my throat and leaves me trembling in his arms.
“I hate you,” I tell him as I turn around and kiss him.
His red eyes lock on mine. “I think you mean, you fucking hate loving me.”
I nod, and I can’t stop the tears from tracking down my face. He leans in, his lips gently brushing them away. “Unfortunately for both of us, I love you too,” he whispers against my wet skin.
EPILOGUE | JAX
“Alright, you little troublemaker,” I say, trying to wrangle a squirming nine-month-old into his pajamas. “You are a St. Clair. That means we face danger bravely… and we definitely put our arms through the right holes.”
He laughs like I’ve said the funniest thing in the world and promptly yanks the sleeve back off.
“Hey,” I say, grabbing his tiny hand. “Work with me here.”
Eventually I get him bundled into the soft blue pajamas Lou bought him. They’re kind of cute, with tiny white moths covering the fabric, but all I care about is that they’re zip-up pajamas. The ones with the tiny buttons are Sisk’s responsibility.I made that clear on day one.
None of us have figured out how to tell Lou that spending his hard-earned money on clothes that babies outgrow in two seconds isn’t the smartest investment.
Case in point, the kid still manages to make the whole thing a challenge.
