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I shouldn’t be doing this… I should try to fix this… it was just that Jax looked at me like he really saw me. He touched me like I was precious.

When did sleeping with my husband stop feeling special and start to feel just like a chore? Like the man who made his vows to me was only using my body to get off? The way that he talked to me recently… It was like he didn’t even like me.

What was I doing? Justifying why it was okay that I slept with my stepson.

I was an adult. A married one. I needed to figure out my shit.

I heard noises downstairs in the kitchen…

How was I going to look my husband in the face when I had just spent the last ten minutes scooping his son’s cum out of me in the shower?

How was I going to live with myself, knowing that I didn’t hate what the two of us had done?

Well, I couldn’t just let myself watch my life go by, and my problems weren’t about to solve themselves.

Taking a deep, grounding breath, I went downstairs.

Jax was in the kitchen, with a red checkered apron on, hovering over the stove. The smell of garlic and roasted peppers filled the air. He was prodding at eggs in the pan, then turned suddenly when he realized I was there.

That frilly little apron did nothing to hide his powerful physique. His muscular biceps flexed as he gripped the spatula tight. His eyes flicked down to my chest, then dropped lower. For a moment Jax stared at my belly—his expression was nothing but raw desire—before his gaze snapped back to me.

Had he always looked at me like that?

“Dad left. Said he was going to the gym.” Jax cleared his throat, “I made you breakfast. Omelet with the peppers, just how you like it.”

I just stared at him, swallowing slowly.

I was supposed to… eat breakfast with him? Now that I knew he was built like a Renaissance sculpture? When I could remember the exact shape of his cock, like it was seared into my brain?

Now that I could be pregnant with his baby?

Jax watched me as my breath hitched. As I couldn’t take my eyes off him… completely speechless as he stole my breath away.

I wanted him.

The moment that Jax realized it, the look in his eyes turned downright predatory. He strode across the kitchen, crushing me against his body as he kissed me. Hot. Desperately.

His lips snatched at mine as his tongue plunged into my mouth, caressing and plundering. Jax kissed me like I was everything he ever wanted. He kissed me like I belonged to him.

I moaned softly, melting under the scorching heat of his kiss, as his muscular arms wrapped around me—tight and possessive—his fingers dug into my hips, pressing me tighter against him. Until I felt his cock already hard, pressing into my soft belly.

My brain turned into the exact consistency of glue. I wasn’t thinking—the only thing that existed was the aching need in the center of my core. Shifting closer, I rocked my hips into his, desperate for more… more heat, more friction, more of just him.

Jax groaned, so guttural and deep that my skin got goosebumps.

That was so hot—it sent chills all the way through my body.

Roughly, he lifted me onto the countertop, lifting my skirt to my waist. He jerked my underwear to one side, tugged his sweatpants down and that frilly apron up and thrust—bottoming out all the way into me.

Oh, fuck.

I gasped, arching my back, as I spread my legs wider, needing more of him.

Jax grabbed my hip, pulling me closer, using his powerful body to break through all the distance between us. Grinding down, hard.

Then he moved deeper than anyone had ever been. As if he could carve himself into me, thrust after thrust. As if he were trying to mold an impression of his dick permanently in my pussy.

I was still sore, and it made every movement of his cock against my tender pussy feel more intense. Every thrust was more raw, more primal.