Jax: Black Angels MC, #3

by Fisher, A. E.

  I rolled my eyes. “You’re a pig.”

  Jax smiled, pleased with my insult. Weirdo.

  “But I get it.” I nodded, watching his face sober up into the serious Jax that had just confessed all his concerns to me. He was honest with me. Here I was being all stupid and frustrated on my own, and Jax had been worried about me all this time. I had been selfish.

  “I’m sorry for pushing you.”

  I reached for the buttons of my shirt, beginning to pull them back together.

  “I don’t think you are,” a deep, vibrational growl had goosebumps prickling over my skin.

  “What?” I mumbled, looking up to see the eyes of an animal. The eyes of a predator.

  “I don’t think you’re sorry enough,” Jax growled, the muscles under his skin rippling as he rose onto his all fours and leaned in close, arm moving past me. The faint stench of his sweat and scent was closing in on my face, my eyes unable to look away from his lips as he drew closer.

  The sharp marks he left made me all too aware of the slight heat they still radiated. I clung to that faint pain and my breath quickened.

  Did he mean…?

  Jax leaned back with something in his hands. Something I hadn’t noticed he was reaching for.

  The belt.

  “Um, Jax…?” I fumbled, my brain going haywire with the heat rising from the tips of my toes all the way up to the roots of my hair.

  “Hands forward,” he snapped, and, fuck, it made me jump so hard the bed almost sprang me back up. Was he being serious?

  I looked to his face, and whatever soft and gentle Jax had once been there was long gone. This one had the eyes of a crow. Dark and calculating. And intimidating.

  “Hands,” he demanded.

  My hands were out in front of me without a second thought, the sternness of his voice leaving no room for refusal. Jax didn’t give me any approval as he looked down at my extended hands. Instead, he took the belt, and with rough, precise movements, wound the leather around my wrists. My eyes traced the movements as I became aware of the leather on my skin tightening with every gesture until he threaded it through the buckle and pulled it tight.

  I gasped. The leather dug into my skin and made me grit my teeth against the pinch. It bordered on chafing, but it wasn’t enough for me to want to stop.

  He held me by the hands and pulled them high up above my head. I pushed up onto my knees to adjust from the discomfort, my eyes unable to look away from his. He followed his own hand and the second I wobbled in his grasp, he shoved his hands forward, pushing me backward.

  I hit the bed hard, my hips and tits bouncing back up from the springy mattress as the huge man straddled on top of me.

  Wood pressed into the edges of wrists, and I realized he had slipped the belt and my hands around the bedpost. I was tied.

  “Now,” Jax growled, looking down at my exposed, stretched body, vulnerable and ready for the taking. “How about a real apology?”

  “I’m so—” I squealed at the sharp pinch of my nipple, my chest bucking from the bed, rubbing my hips into his crotch. He seated his hips lower until the thin material of his boxers pressed down on top of my mound. Not enough weight to feel heavy but enough to keep me firm against the bed.

  “Again,” Jax demanded.

  “I’m sor—” He pinched again, and this time, the sharp pain went straight down to my crotch, causing all my muscles to clench and a desperate, shocked gasp to burst from my lips.

  Jax’s expression didn’t change.

  Tears welled in my eyes, but that didn’t stop him from demanding another apology. He was unrelenting and despite every sorry I gave, I was punished with a sharp pinch to my nipples.

  “What a pretty color,” Jax murmured, his finger soothing over the swollen, throbbing nipples. I jerked at his touch, wondering how I became this stimulated despite the pain. He leaned down, sucking one into his mouth.

  I whimpered, earning a flick of a tongue before Jax popped the nub out of his mouth. He made his way over to the other one and I wiggled beneath him.

  “You had enough yet?”

  I opened my mouth, the “yes” so desperate to come out and free myself from this torture. “No…,” I whined. My throbbing pussy took over my body, the hot wet mess trying to rub against the bottom of his underwear in desperation. Something to collapse the building of need that had grown inside of me with every pinch. I had never thought of myself as a masochist, but with each nip and sharp pain, I had thrown away my unease for pleasure. How could something so painful feel so good?

  “Good answer.” Jax grinned. “But bad girls don’t get what they want.”

  Jax rose to his knees, pulling away from my hips. The warmth of his body was replaced by a cold breeze and even that was almost enough to make me come right there and then. He had just played with my nipples, and a mild breeze almost had me tipping over the edge.

  “Nuh-uh-uh,” Jax teased, his hands pushing apart my thighs until both were curled around his hips.

  I tried to pull him closer, the buckle of the belt rattling against the wood. “Jax…,” I whined, wishing I could escape from this damn thing and take what I needed.

  With a small push down on the waistband of his boxers, his cock sprung free from the elastic. It was angry and red, and the black revolver tattoo covered its shaft.

  I wonder what he was thinking when he decided to get that one.

  Jax shuffled forward until he was so close that my legs had slid up and over his shoulders due to my inflexibility. One hand held one of my thighs, the other wrapped tight around his shaft, giving it one hard tug before dipping it between my folds.

  “Apologize. For real this time,” Jax growled, his cock poised at my entrance.

  The anticipation was so overwhelming that I could barely get the words out and tears rolled down my cheeks at the fear I wouldn’t be able to say it. That I wouldn’t be able to get my release. But just as I thought it wouldn’t arrive, the soft, small words escaped. “I’m sorry!” I whined. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m—”

  Jax’s cock slammed home.

  I screamed.

  With all the passion from our first time, I hadn’t had time to adjust to the huge size of him, and I wasn’t given that luxury this time either. He bottomed out and slammed back in all the way to the hilt. His pubic hairs brushed against my shorter ones and the rough rub of them against each other had my insides clenching around him.

  “Fuck, Ronnie,” Jax grunted with each slap. I’m sure he tried to repeat it, but it dissolved into just hard, frustrated growls of pleasure, pushing me past my limits and higher than I ever thought I could go.

  If I thought Jax had been teasing me with my nipples earlier, I was so wrong as he brushed against my G-spot again and again without hitting it. I was rising and rising with no sign of coming down. I was suffocating in pleasure, muscles crying out in pain and eyes streaming with tears.

  Jax shoved his body forward, my hips almost slamming into my nose, and with a loud, echoing snap, the leather from my hands dropped to the bed and I was released.

  “Hold onto me,” Jax snapped, dropping back on his haunches, hands going to my hips.

  My hands cried out in pain as I tore them from the fisted sheets and lurched around his neck and back. My nails dug into his skin and Jax’s head pressed into the nape of my neck as his heavy blows to my vagina quickened into a thundering, racing beat.

  “Jax!” I cried, digging my nails in harder into his skin until I felt the small trickle of blood.

  “Come!” Jax snapped, and on command, I flew over the edge.

  I cried out with such force no noise came out, my vagina feeling like it had exploded into a thousand little pieces, my body rippling with the overwhelming, electric pleasure that turned me to stone before I melted into molten liquid.

  My hands slipped from his neck, dropping into the soft sheets. My limbs shook like a broken-in horse, my energy drained and my head whirling with such a heavy delirium I woul
dn’t have even been able to say my name.

  “Fuck,” Jax coughed, dropping down to the side of me. His chest galloped a million miles per hour as he spread out, defeated and worn.

  “Yeah…,” I mumbled.

  Jax gave a tired chuckle.

  After a few more minutes of panting breaths and radiating heat filling the room, Jax somehow managed to have the energy to turn onto his side and face me.

  “Am I forgiven then? For not tying you up?” Jax reached up to brush a sticky piece of hair that had caught in my mouth. I was as soggy as a tree after a storm, but Jax didn’t care, his body coated in the same sheen of sweat.

  “Only if I’m forgiven for being a wimpy girl about it.”

  His dark eyes crinkled in amusement.

  “Babe, if I’ve learned anything over my twenty-nine years of life, it’s that there’s no such thing as a wimpy girl. You lot are strong as stone.”

  “Stone can be broken,” I whispered, catching his softened gaze. His mellowed aura bled into me, and even at the weakness in my voice, he didn’t give me a single look of pity or rejection.

  “Fine.” Jax huffed. “The strongest metal. Or the strongest gem stone. A diamond. You girls like diamonds, right?”

  “Ha,” I laughed, the action causing a hot ache to flood across my body. Exercise was tough. “Now you’re treading into sexist territory.”

  Jax mocked a gasp, throwing his dark hand to his chest. “I would never.”

  I mustered up my shallow reserve of energy to give him a little push with my hand. Of course, he didn’t pretend to be a little off balance at my pathetic shove.

  Instead, he caught my wrist, the touch making me hiss at the light sting shooting down my arm. Jax gave the red marks a look of contempt.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Jax’s finger traced the mark with careful strokes as not to provoke the soreness of my skin. “I don’t like leaving marks; it’s poor craftmanship.”

  “Craftsmanship?” I scoffed. “Don’t these kinds of things just come with the kink?”

  “No,” Jax shook his head. “Amateurs leave marks. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

  “I thought BDSM was all about leaving marks on your possessions?”

  Jax’s expression flattened. “Please don’t tell me you were reading that Fifty Shades of Crap book?” His lips pulled tight and he fixed me with such a glare I almost felt uneasy. Not quite. But close.

  I shrugged. “No. But Mallory was telling me about it and—”

  “Don’t listen to Mallory,” Jax scolded, the pout of his face getting cuter the longer I looked at it. “One, no girl is a possession. Sure, they can belong to someone, but that’s only if they want to. Our old ladies belong to us, but they can do whatever they like. They’re not an object someone can pick up and throw away as they please.”

  That had my respect flying high up the charts for the men in the club. When I’d heard about the old ladies being “owned” by the men by wearing their name on their backs, it had unsettled me for sure. Being owned by a man was the last thing I wanted… something I’d been too familiar with. I wanted an equal relationship with my partner. Someone who I could depend on to have my back, even if I had nothing to offer. Someone who I’d offer the same courtesy too. I wasn’t a trophy wife, and I wasn’t meant to be a display for man’s ego.

  But now hearing that explanation and meeting the women who were as happy as could be with their respective partners made me think I had misjudged the Black Angels and what they stood for. Maybe their culture wasn’t such a dirty thing after all?

  “And two, a real master can leave marks deeper than on the skin,” Jax whispered, his voice dropping low with that husky growl as one finger ran up the line of my stomach. “The ones only the M can see.” He stopped just beneath my breast, but my breath had already quickened, and my aching clit throbbed at his light touch.

  Jax watched the reaction with those dark, sinful eyes before he broke away and it turned into a satisfied smile.

  “See?”

  I tutted. “All right, asshole.” I flicked his hand away, and with energy I didn’t have, I pushed myself up to stand.

  “Where are you running off to?” Jax grumbled, sitting up on the edge of the bed.

  “A shower. You left a little present for me to clean up.” I pointed down to the wetness I felt dripping down the inside of my leg.

  Jax gave it a look of pure satisfaction. But it only lasted a second, before his face fell like a white sheet.

  “Shit.” He jerked from the bed, causing me to jump back in surprise. “You’re on birth control, right?”

  A sharp sting knotted deep in my chest, my brows furrowing at his reaction.

  “No!” Jax snapped, running to my side, hands capturing my arms in a gentle but firm grasp. He lowered his head until the small difference in height was gone and looked me in the eyes. “Don’t be upset. I mean, I want kids eventually. But we just started, you know, being us and I’m not ready to be changing diapers, and the crying, and the lack of sex and—” Jax’s panicked expression quickly turned into one of frustration. “Why are you laughing at me?”

  “Fuck,” I wheezed, the silent gasp for air like a glass of cold water in the desert as I could barely contain myself. “I just got a little offended and then that comes out your mouth… It’s too funny.”

  I reached up to wipe tears from my eyes as Jax scowled, his sweat-coated hair falling in front of his eyes at the reappearance of that little pout. Jax, not being the type to do nothing when being ridiculed, struck back. Literally.

  I squealed at the harsh, throbbing hand mark burning into my ass. “Jax!” I yelped, my laughter having been shocked out of me.

  “Go get your shower before I change my mind about having kids right now.”

  I wanted to turn around and bite his head off for the mark on my ass. A master doesn’t leave marks—Yeah, right, asshole. But I knew when my luck was pushed and from the flinch across his bemused expression, I could see Jax’s alter ego enjoyed my little reaction.

  My body throbbed.

  Knowing I couldn’t take a second wonderful punishment from his demanding hands, I scuttled into the bathroom before Jax really did change his mind.

  “Ronnie?” Jax called after me just as I was about to shut the door.

  “Yeah?”

  “You are on birth control, right?” Jax’s worried expression returned. “If not, I can pick something up for you or…?”

  “Don’t worry, Jax.” I gave him a reassuring smile. “You’re safe.”

  With that Jax gave me a solemn nod and I closed the door behind me.

  I looked down at the warmth trickling down the inside of my knee, my hand pressing against the depth of my stomach. “Safe, huh?”

  With that I turned on the spray of the shower and stepped underneath, its warmth working on cleaning my body and mindas I pretended I would never have to have that conversation anytime soon.

  Hopefully never.

  If only I was that lucky….

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Jax

  “What are you looking at?” Ronnie’s groggy voice accompanied the patter of footsteps behind me. Her soft hands slid down over the top of my shoulders and around my chest. Brown hair fell with a ticklish touch to the ridges of my back, smelling like the apple shampoo she brought yesterday.

  “Thinking of buying you a rope,” I answered, turning away from the laptop propped open on the kitchen table, twisting my legs in my chair until our hips faced each other. My hands slid around her waist and gave her an encouraging tug. She lifted the long T-shirt she had thrown over her bra-less tits and swung her thighs over mine. Her cotton panties nestled between my legs, close but not touching my crotch.

  I leaned into her neck, smelling that sweet citrus scent from her hair and absorbing the warmth she was radiating. The chair made a creak as Ronnie’s head peered over my shoulder. I held her relaxed body as her eyes scanned the laptop screen on the table.
>
  “Hemp rope…Tossa?” she grumbled, leaning back and taking her warm neck away from me. I pouted for a moment and looked up to her eyes. She didn’t look uncomfortable with what she had seen but curious. “What’s the difference?”

  “Hemp rope is softer, better for beginners,” I answered, hand pushing against her back as her body leaned forward again and I nuzzled in deeper. “Tossa has more of a tooth so it tends to leave marks.”

  “So, you’ve bought Hemp rope?” she mumbled. Her body weight tilted into mine again, but this time, I felt her arm untuck from underneath mine and lean toward the computer.

  “Not yet,” I grumbled through a mouthful of hair. I lifted my hand and pulled it off her shoulder, exposing her smooth skin.

  “Hmm,” she mumbled, as I ran my nose from the nape of her neck up to the crux of her jaw. “Why not?”

  One hand reached up, and she began to comb through the back of my hair, holding my head against her neck with a soft grasp.

  “Wasn’t sure whether to get you 8mm or 6mm rope.”

  “Why does the width matter?”

  “8mm is thicker and is loose plaited which means there’s less friction so it requires more knotting. 6mm is thinner and tighter plaited so it’s better at holding a knot.”

  “Then just get 6mm,” Ronnie grumbled, like it was the simplest answer in the world.

  I shook my head. “6mm is a little too thin for a beginner. If you struggle too much, you’re more likely to end up with marks.”

  “So I get a few marks. I’ll get used to it with a little more… experience?” The heel of her foot ran up the back of my calf in one smooth and slow motion, earning a low, quiet growl from the depth of my chest.

  The idea that she wanted to do it again made something dance deep down in my soul. Even knowing she enjoyed the other night, her body and her reaction to my little slap had told as much, it didn’t mean she would be interested in trying it again. And from the warm heat I could feel seeping through my jeans, I could tell it was more for her benefit than mine.