Monster: Angels of Chaos MC

by Parker, Zoey

  “Fuck, Jax!” I scream, clawing at his shoulders as the second climax washes over me. I notice wetness on my cheeks and realize I’m crying. The whole thing is so surprising I don’t know what to think. My entire body is trembling from the force until it passes, and I’m left in wonder of what just happened. I didn’t think it was possible.

  I feel his fingers leave me and I moan softly. I reach for him, needing to be held. He takes me in his arms, but instead of staying beside me on the floor he stands. He carries me with him up the stairs, into his bedroom. I don’t fight him. I don’t want to.

  Chapter 11

  Jax

  She’s even better than I imagined. I lay her on the bed, already hard and ready to go again. The taste of her pussy, the sounds she made as she came, drove me crazy.

  I look down at her body, the moonlight coming through the window and painting her silver. The big, firm tits are heaving up and down, just like I’d imagined. The little waist and round, tight little ass. The long, smooth legs. She has a body that was made for this, and I’m overcome with the urge to own it. I want to ride her until she screams and begs me to stop.

  I lower myself over her, taking the time to appreciate every inch of skin I come into contact with. I start at her slim ankle, running my fingers over it, then moving slowly up until I reach her ass. She squirms, gasping when my fingers brush across her sensitive skin. I stay there, caressing softly, driving her crazy.

  “Oh my God, Jax,” she whispers, biting into my shoulder. She lets out a shuddery moan with every stroke along her soft skin, trembling. I realize she hasn’t really been touched before. This is all new to her. She doesn’t even know what her body is capable of. When my fingers slide between her ass cheeks, she gasps sharply.

  “Relax. Let go.” I stroke her there, back and forth over her most private place, while flicking my tongue over her nipples. They’re perfect, the kind that beg to be sucked. She writhes under me, eyes closed, mouth open. Her moans are deeper now, almost primal. I gently rake my teeth across one nipple and she arches her back.

  Meanwhile, my fingers are still exploring her ass. She whimpers a little every time I linger near her puckered hole, but I don’t go any further. Just teasing her is enough. Making her think I will. I rub it gently with my thumb and she nearly jumps off the bed. Her fingers are digging into my shoulder, and I wonder how badly I’ll be bruised tomorrow.

  But I don’t stop. Instead I go lower with my tongue, now licking her navel. She holds the back of my head close to her, moaning in approval. I kiss and lick across her flat stomach, then down to her hips. She rolls them in a circular motion, grinding them toward my face. I know what she wants, but I’m not going to give it to her just yet. Soon.

  I’m back at her pussy, the scent making me twitch painfully. I want to bury myself inside her, but first I want to give her all the pleasure she can handle.

  I find her pink button again and swipe my tongue over it. She’s ready for more, soaking wet and begging again for me to lick her pussy until she comes. Just the sound of the words coming out of her mouth makes my balls ache. She sounds so fucking sexy when she talks like this, her voice raw and throaty.

  I lick faster, pressing harder against her clit. She moans louder, signaling that I’m on the right track. I start circling her wet hole with my thumb, teasing her as I lick. She sounds desperate, crying out almost pitifully. Like she’s going insane. When I slide two fingers deep inside she screams my name. I can’t wait to fuck her now, just to hear that again.

  I find the rough patch inside her tunnel and start rubbing it, never stopping the movement of my tongue on her button. She’s losing it, screaming hoarsely, writhing frantically. But I won’t stop, knowing how the pleasure is wracking her and how good she’ll feel when she comes.

  Soon she’s tightening around my fingers, coating them with even more wetness as the orgasm begins. I watch her face as she screams, the veins standing out on her neck when she tenses. Then she’s crying out, over and over, her muscles loosening their grip and pulsing gently.

  I withdraw my fingers, replacing them with my cock. She gasps sharply as I fill her, and I have to stay still until she relaxes or risk losing it. She’s so tight, so hot. I wait until the urge to come passes, watching her as she adjusts to me.

  “So big,” she whimpers, but the way she thrusts her hips toward me when she says it tells me there’s no problem. I slide out, slowly, still watching as her eyes close and a slow smile spreads over her face. I let her feel every inch of me leave until only the head is still inside. I tease her with a few shallow thrusts, and she moans.

  “Do you want more?” I ask, rolling my hips. I’m barely holding back, wanting to pound her until we’re both raw. But torturing her like this is so much fun.

  “Mmmhmm. I want all of it. Give it to me.”

  She’s mine now, I think as I slam home. Her eyes fly open in surprise when she feels me bottom out inside her. I take her wrists, pinning them above her head.

  “You want it? You want my cock?” I growl as I ride her. I feel every bit of her as I slam home, her tight sheath gripping me like a vice. She’s crying out, incoherent, lost. “Do you like that?”

  “Yes! Yes! I love it!”

  I respond by slamming home once, twice, hearing her scream softly.

  “Turn over,” I growl, letting go of her wrists and sliding out briefly. No sooner is she on her knees than I’m lining up with her pussy and thrusting again. I hold onto her hips, pulling them toward me to bring us together even harder. She loves it, gasping and moaning, begging for more. I feel her moving against me, slamming into me, fucking me as I’m fucking her.

  I slap her ass, first on one side, then the other. At first she sounds surprised, then she cries out, “Yes! Slap my ass! Please!” I do it again and again, then reach down to pull her up against me so her back is to my chest.

  “Ride me,” I growl in her ear before biting the lobe. She shivers, but doesn’t stop rocking her hips against my cock, grinding sensually. My hands roam over her legs, her hips, up to her tits. I rub them, squeezing them, feeling the way they bounce in my hands with her movement. With one hand, I pull her head to the side to suck on her neck. I need all of her, everything I can feel or taste.

  She reaches behind me, holding onto the back of my neck, still fucking me. I cup her mound with my free hand, rubbing her. She’s nearly gone now, her voice nonexistent, hoarsely crying out my name.

  “Jax! Ohhh, ohhh, oh, Jax!” Her grinding has turned into a frantic bouncing and I know she’s ready to come again. My fingers find her clit and she gasps, riding harder and harder. I feel the way her pussy clamps down on my cock and grit my teeth, holding on as she comes all over me.

  “That’s right, baby, come on my cock. Come for me.” She whimpers, shaking, the muscles of her pussy squeezing me. I force myself to think of something else for a moment until the urge to come passes, glad she already got me off with her mouth so it’s easier to hold back.

  Finally, she’s finished, collapsing forward onto the bed.

  “We’re not finished yet,” I warn her.

  She looks up at me through half-lidded eyes. “Oh, please,” she whimpers. “I don’t think I can take any more.”

  “I’m gonna give it to you anyway. You can take just one more. My cock needs to be inside you one more time,” I say, picking up her legs and placing them against my chest. I gently strum my thumb over her clit, teasing her. “Don’t you want it? Don’t you want to feel good again?”

  “Mmmm. Jax…” That’s all the answer I need.

  She’s torn between pleasure and exhaustion, so I make up her mind for her by plunging into her again. I’m determined to make her come one more time before I do. Taking hold of her legs, I drive myself into her. She wants more, I can tell, moaning again. I grind into her slowly, taking my time, building us both up.

  I feel her pushing against me, using her legs against my chest for leverage. I won’t let her off that easy. I spr
ead her thighs apart, placing one foot on either side of me. Then I kneel, lifting her hips as I go. Her pussy is open in front of me, my cock still thrusting into her.

  “Touch yourself for me,” I whisper. “I want to see you get yourself off while I fuck you.” She moans, too lost in pleasure to say no. My eyes are glued to her fingers as she first slowly strokes her clit, then speeds up. She uses the other hand to hold the lips apart, giving me an even better look.

  “That’s right,” I growl, thrusting harder now, watching her pleasure herself. “You’re so fucking sexy. Make yourself come, baby. One more time.” She moans, my words driving her closer and closer. Her fingers are a blur now, flying over her clit. My cock is a blur, too, and I know I’m getting ready to explode.

  “Come on me,” she gasps, then I realize she’s tightening again, her cries getting louder and louder as she climaxes just once more.

  From the moment she starts, I let go. I slide out of her and rapidly stroke myself, crying out just before I start spurting over her tits just like she asked. I hear myself roaring, hear her encouraging me to keep going, as my cum splashes onto her.

  Then it’s over. I fall onto the bed, exhausted. I’ve been with a lot of women—a lot of women—but this was different. I never felt so compelled to bring a woman so much pleasure. I barely notice when she slips out of bed. I hear the water running in the bathroom and know she’s cleaning herself up. Soon she slips back into bed with me, beneath the blankets. I know I ought to keep her from falling asleep with me…but I can’t bring myself to say no.

  Chapter 12

  Christina

  I know we shouldn’t have. But I’m so glad we did.

  I’ve never felt like this before. I didn’t think I was capable of feeling so much pleasure. There were times when I didn’t think I could handle any more, but I’m glad he pushed me further. I feel sorry for any man who comes into my life after tonight. They’ll never measure up.

  We stay in bed together for a little while. I sense hesitation on his part at first, but there’s no way I’m going back to that solitary bed and sleeping alone after what just happened. I’m feeling vulnerable, more so than I ever have, and I need a little contact right now. I’m guessing this isn’t his usual routine.

  It doesn’t take long for him to warm up, though. I’m dozing gently, sort of in and out of consciousness, in that beautiful place between sleep and wakefulness. My head is on his shoulder, and I can hear the way his heart beats slow and strong in his chest. Everything about him is strong.

  I hear his breathing change, too. It slows, deepens. I glance up at his face without moving my head, wanting to avoid disturbing him. He’s so beautiful, if a man can be beautiful. The moonlight against the snow fills the room with an almost supernatural white glow, lighting his face. He’s angelic, just like the ink across his chest. Though I don’t think he was in an angelic mood when he got that done. I bite my lip to stifle a giggle.

  Then I remember something.

  “Oh, shit!” He stirs at my voice. “The fire! You lit the fire!”

  “Good call.” He hurries out of bed, not bothering to put on his boxers, and heads downstairs. I hear him putting out the flames, speaking to Blue in low, soothing tones. Poor dog. We probably scared the hell out of him.

  I giggle again, remembering how wild it was. He’s officially ruined me for all other men. How can I go back to plain, boring sex again after what just happened? Nothing else will come close, I’m sure.

  I look around the room, really seeing it for the first time. The dresser and bed are antiques, I can tell, the curtains that same pretty lacy fabric as the ones in the guest room. I wonder why he still has everything decorated this way. It doesn’t seem to suit his personality at all. He’s so masculine, hardly able to roll out a basic dough on the counter earlier tonight. This whole “farmhouse shabby chic” aesthetic clashes with what I know about him.

  I don’t think I would change a thing, though. Maybe get a nicer TV with a better picture. Maybe switch out his old computer with my newer one. The stove and oven are amazing, but the fridge is a little small. Maybe a second one in the garage?

  Wait a minute. What the hell am I thinking? I’m going through this in my head as though I plan to move in. This is exactly the sort of complication I don’t need in my life right now, damn it. I can’t go from one fucked up relationship to another, no matter how good the sex is. And the sex was very, very good.

  Besides, Jax doesn’t exactly seem like the type who would want to settle down with me. He strikes me as a loner, through and through. I can only imagine the way he’d react if I showed up one day, bags in hand. He might act like he didn’t know me, or regret ever finding me in the snow.

  The idea is entirely too screwed up to consider.

  And yet…

  When he’s not being an ass, and I’m not flying off the handle at him, he’s sweet. Thoughtful. Tender. I’ll never forget how he took care of me when I was half-frozen. There’s a good heart in there, even if he doesn’t want to admit to it.

  Can I see us continuing this way on a permanent basis? I’m surprised to realize that the idea appeals to me. I wouldn’t mind staying here with him for longer than tonight. As long as he wants me, and I want him. Why not? Many successful relationships have been based on little more than great sex, right?

  Besides, there is more between us, as much as I didn’t want to admit it at first. There’s much more. The fact that he triggers me only means we’re alike. We’re too alike in some ways. And our differences, well, they make for some explosive fun, that’s for sure. I could live with sex even half as good as this for the rest of my life.

  I don’t even know anything about him. He could be a murderer, a deviant. I’ve been here for less than two days.

  We could get to know each other. Does any couple know everything about each other when they first get together? Of course not. It comes in time.

  Just like I didn’t know everything about Tommy. I shiver now. I can’t stop taking chances, no matter how terrible things were with him. I’ll be smarter this time. If I see warning signs, I won’t ignore them this time. Not like I did for years with that bastard.

  My eyes fall on the dresser, specifically on a framed picture on top of the dresser. It’s of a woman, petite, blonde. Pretty. She’s laughing. I wonder who she is. Not a sister, not with that tiny frame or blonde hair. Jax is dark, almost swarthy, and huge. A girlfriend? Shit. Does he have a girlfriend? I wouldn’t know, would I? I slap my forehead.

  He returns just as I do. “You okay?” he asks, hesitating.

  I just nod and smile, my eyes unable to leave his body. He’s impressive, no doubt about it.

  He gets back into bed with me, his back against the headboard. I don’t cuddle up to him as quickly this time, now wary.

  “I hope it’s okay for me to stay here, I mean, in bed with you.”

  “Oh, yeah. No problem.”

  I roll onto my side, facing him. “How long have you lived in this house?”

  He shrugs, staring at the ceiling as he thinks. “It’s been, oh, maybe seven years? Eight?”

  “It’s so cozy. Perfect at this time of year, too. Makes me feel all warm inside.”

  He smiles, and I know he feels exactly the same way. I know there’s a good, sweet man in there. I wouldn’t care so much if there wasn’t.

  “Did you grow up around here? What made you move into this house specifically?”

  He shrugs again, the smile disappearing now. “I grew up not far from here, outside of town. Close enough to almost feel like a part of things, but I never really was. There was always a wall between me and the people who live there.”

  “How come?”

  “Ask them. I always guessed it was because I was sort of, well, white trash. Poor. You know those people, you see them. I bet they come in every Sunday after church, don’t they?” I nod. “Of course they do. But they’re the least Christian bunch of hypocrites in the world. Unaccepting of anybody
not just like them.”

  He looks at me, his eyes narrowing. “You probably don’t see it, because you’re the sort of person they like. Sweet, pretty, friendly. You fit in…except you’re a good person. When I walked into your shop, you didn’t judge me or turn me away. You treated me like a person. Tattoos, dirty work clothes and all.”

  “Well, I have to admit you were a little intimidating. But you’re a big guy, too.”

  “True enough. But I wasn’t always. Not when I was a kid.”

  I mull this over. Maybe this is why he’s so cut off, because he feels rejected. I don’t blame him. My heart goes out to him now. He’s so wounded. I want to end that loneliness for him.

  Damn. One good round of sex and I’m feeling all types of things. What the hell happened to me?

  “Can I ask you another question?”

  He hesitates. I can tell he already feels like he’s revealed too much. He can’t be used to talking about himself like this. He shifts beneath the blankets, his lips pursed.

  “Sure. Go ahead.”

  I point to the dresser, indicating the framed photo. “Who’s that?”

  His face drops. I’ve seen that look before, I realize. It’s the same look he had on his face when I referenced the way he lives alone. Shit. What did I just step in? I wish I could take it back.

  I especially wish it when he replies, “That’s my wife. My late wife.”

  Chapter 13

  Jax

  I knew it couldn’t last, the whole “let’s not ask personal questions” stage. Now that we’ve had sex, the floodgates are open. She doesn’t know there’s no future for us.

  I watch her now, as she sleeps. I know she wants more. It’s always obvious when a woman wants more. They start asking questions. How long have you lived here? Where did you grow up? Who’s that woman in the picture you haven’t been able to take off your dresser in the two years since she died?