Page 9 of Pucking Daddy

Her lips part. “For what?”

“To step back.”

“Not interested.”

Yeah.

That’s what I thought.

In an instant my mouth is on hers.

The kiss is sharp and hungry, and I can’t remember the last time I’ve felt this alive.

I want to devour her. I want to memorize the taste of her, the way she tastes like cherry lip gloss and pure, unadulterated defiance.

I deepen the kiss, my tongue sliding against hers, and she meets me halfway with a desperation that mirrors my own.

Her fingers are frantic now, knotting in my hair, pulling me closer as if she’s trying to crawl inside my skin.

I groan into her mouth, the sound vibrating through both of our chests. It’s a low, primal noise I don't recognize as my own, but I don't care.

I break away for a split second—just enough to trail my lips down the line of her throat. I find that sensitive spot right below her ear and bite down, soft enough to tease, hard enough to leave a mark.

"Jax," she gasps, her head tossing back against the wall. The sound of my name on her lips, breathless and broken, is the final nail in the coffin.

"You're not going anywhere," I growl against her lips, my grip on her waist tightening.

"I don’t want to," she whispers back, her eyes dark with a hunger that matches my own.

Damn, she’s undoing me.

The need to bury myself in her is a physical ache, sharp and demanding.

My eyes cut to the side, catching the glint of a heavy metal door a few feet down—a maintenance closet, propped open just a crack with a stray wooden wedge.

"In here," I rasp.

I don't wait for an answer. I hook my arm around her waist and usher her through the gap, my body shielding hers until the door heavy-thuds shut behind us.

The air in the small room is warm, smelling of floor wax and industrial hum, but the darkness is absolute. It’s perfect.

I find her in the shadows, pinning her against the cool surface of a metal shelving unit. The rattle of the shelves only fuels the fire.

"Jax," she breathes, her hands finding my face, pulling me down.

"I've got you," I mutter, my hands roaming down her curves, tracing the line of her hips before hooking under her thighs.

She jumps, wrapping her legs around my waist instinctively, locking me in.

I groan, the friction of her against my fly sending a jolt of pure adrenaline through my system.

I hike her up higher, my back hitting the opposite wall for leverage, and start raining kisses along her jaw, her collarbone, anywhere I can reach.

Her head falls back, a soft, broken moan vibrating through the small space. "Please," she whispers, her fingers digging into my shoulders.

She’s desperate, and I’m right there with her. I need to forget the hearing and the stakes, but I’m going to have my fun first.

"Please what, Zara?" I tease, my voice dropping to a low, dangerous rumble.