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He got as far as he could, then pulled back, sliding forward again with a tortured sound that tightened the skin on my scalp. It was so, so good that every inch of my body filled with relief.
Jax pushed forward again, and I widened my thighs, hitching them up against his side. He sank like a stone, and my back arched, a helpless sound escaping my mouth at how full I was.
“God, Poppy,” he groaned into the skin of my neck. “You’re so good, angel. You feel so perfect.”
More. I needed more. When I shifted my hips, grinding against him just right, he braced his elbows on either side of my head, and oh, he gave me more.
Jax was relentless—long, even strokes, and he was so big, it was almost painful, riding that edge until I was gasping his name. The bed rocked forward, knocking into the wall as he gritted his teeth and pulled me into the endless wave of pleasure that built and built. I could hardly breathe through it, and it was sobig, so big and overwhelming that it threatened to drown me.
My pulse thundered in my ears, and I think he was sayingthings to me. Filthy things about how tight, how wet, how incredible I felt.
He’s going to wreck me,I thought, the thought disappearing almost immediately with another ruthless snap of his hips. Jax was going to obliterate my heart with this one night, and I damn well knew it. And I’d welcome that destruction with open arms. I’d sit in the rubble for the rest of my life if it meant I could feel like this just once.
The head board slammed against the wall, and he gripped my thigh, wedging it against his chest, the angle had me seeing stars while he screwed me absolutely senseless.
My hand gripped the sheet, my heart rate impossible to sustain, and I just kept saying his name over and over while he rearranged every piece of my fucking soul inside my body.
The build climbed under my skin, a gathering of some invisible, crackling ball of energy that had my back arching.
“Come on, angel,” he said between gritted teeth. “Come on.”
He wrenched my thigh away from his chest, dropping down close to me again. My breasts pressed to his chest, and oh, I wanted to kiss him so badly, but I sank my teeth into the meat of his shoulder and felt the muscles in his back tense. With one hand, he gripped my hair and tightened his fist, and I clenched around him. It felt so good, and I couldn’t help but feel like the way we touched each other felt just shy of angry—maybe because we both knew this was just one night. Maybe he felt it too, the dangerous gathering at the base of his spine.
Jax snapped his hips again, grunting into my skin and his hand coming down in a sharp crack on the side of my ass.
Bliss—white and clear and endless.
The shattering of that ball of energy split into a million pieces over my skin, and I mouthed the edge of his jaw while I sobbed through my release. Another thrust, another pivot ofhis hips, then one more—even harder—and Jax tipped his chin up and groaned my name.
I wish I had that sound locked in a vault somewhere because it was the most amazing thing I’d ever heard.
He milked what was left, a slow rolling of his body as we both came down from the dangerously high highs, from the edges of the universe we’d created in this room.
I memorized all of it. The taste of his skin, the way he kissed my shoulders and chest as we lay there panting, the way he shivered when I dragged my hands over his back and sides and arms and shoulders. The way he pressed into my touch when I pushed my fingers into his dark hair.
And I memorized the way he curled me against his chest, one arm anchored around my back and my thigh slung over his. I fell asleep that way, the steady pounding of his heart under my cheek, and my heart aching because I knew that tomorrow, he’d probably never come near me again. Maybe it was better that way.
Chapter 6
Jax
It was rare for me to sleep until the sun came up, and the moment I stirred to wakefulness, my body went eerily still.
Everything around me was warm, soft, that heavenly fucking smell enveloping the entire bed, and in my arms was Poppy Wilder—naked as the day she was born and tucked into my side like she was meant to be there. Her breathing was deep and even, slow puffs of air from her mouth on my chest, and her arm was slung around my waist, precariously close to a very telling morning hard-on that was inconvenient. Inconvenient because she was there, and I damn well knew if I rolled over, she’d take me. She’d let me do anything.
Images from the night before rushed into my brain, each one better than the last.
The first time, I could blame the haze of sleep and alcohol. That I found her there next to me, smelling and feeling like she did.
The second time, though, that was pure indulgence. We slept for a couple of hours, and I woke with my thumb brushing along the bottom curve of her breast and my aching hard-on resting right between the perfection that was Poppy Wilder’s ass.
That second time was slow and quiet.
I brought her awake by sliding my hand down the flat line of her belly, coasting between her legs while she started panting, arching her back with a gasp when I found her slick and ready. With my mouth on the back of her neck and her leg slung up over mine, I took her that way, with my chest pressed tight against her back and my hips moving in slow, short thrusts.
She made the best noises, breathy little gasps when my movements changed, got harder, longer. Whimpers when I plucked at the hard tips of her chest. A decadent, keening moan when my teeth sank into her shoulder as we crossed the peak together, my arms locked tight around her body while I pinched my eyes shut and let the heat of the release slip through my veins like a drug.
Poppy turned her face toward me, my forehead resting on her cheek while we breathed in the dark. I stayed inside her, unable, unwilling to force myself to pull out just yet.
