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Jax is a different kind of guy.
I don’t know if this is right or wrong and I’m not sure I really care at all.
Jax nestles between my legs.
I stare into his eyes and wait.
Not long.
I feel him against me. Pressing. Opening. Gently entering…
I bite my bottom lip.
A surge of pressure makes every nerve in my body tingle.
My inner thighs start to tremble.
“Are you okay, honey?” Jax asks.
“Better than okay,” I say.
I reach and grab at the back of his neck.
I pull myself up and kiss him.
He thrusts into me.
47
JAX
I wanted her, now I have her.
Seven words I think as I sink deeper into her warm sheath.
Her body clenches against mine.
She’s pulling at me at the same time as she’s wiggling, quivering, her body figuring out my size, adjusting as needed.
I’ve maybe never felt someone so ready like I feel with Mila.
To be the asshole anti-hero right now, this is how I see it…
If I ever needed another reason to hate that other guy, this is it right in front of me.
How can someone like Mila be this pent up? To be left hanging like this for so long? There’s a difference between someone who is craving sex and attention versus someone who needs it so badly. It’s all in the way she touches me. The way her nails claw at me. The way her tongue moves with and against mine. It’s in the way her hips rock and thrust, that deepest need to just be fucked.
Mila is in a battle of wants and needs and desires with a taste of regret.
She’s a flooding river and I’m the storm that just won’t fucking pass and give her a break.
And I’m not going to give her a break either.
No fucking way.
I need this.
And she deserves this…
