He released her wrists and wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on her head. “I was going to talk to you, but Reid put me on the spot, and I can’t recommend putting a fighter in the ring if she isn’t physically or mentally ready. Especially because that’s what happened to me, and I know how bad it can be. One month after my sister died, I went into the ring. I was still an emotional wreck, and I thought I heard her voice in the crowd. Lost focus. Got knocked out so bad I was unconscious almost a week. That’s when I decided to give it up and help people instead.”
Her bottom lip quivered, and her body softened. “I’m sorry about what happened to you, but you’re wrong about me.”
“I was wrong about many things, but not this. The flyweights on ROC’s card are all submission experts. You’re not ready for them yet.”
Not now. Maybe not ever. And definitely not with him as her coach. He couldn’t deny that something about her called out to his dominant side, drawing him in like a beacon. And yet, in the ring, he needed to teach her to fight, not submit. He’d never faced such a struggle with the professional-personal divide.
She stiffened in his arms, and for a moment, he thought—feared—she would pull away. Instead, she sagged against him. “Now what?”
For him, quitting was the obvious solution, but the problem was deeper than that. Aside from dealing with his deep attraction to her, he felt compelled to tell Marcy the truth. She would need to know that, unless she could somehow maintain the divide between personal and professional, she might not have what it took to become a championship fighter. Sometimes sexual needs bled out into the real world. For most people, it wasn’t a problem. For Marcy, it could kill her career.
And the truth would kill her dreams.
With impeccable timing, Reid stepped into the gym, his gaze flicking from Jax to Marcy and back to Jax. With a resigned shake of his head, he tossed Marcy the keys.
“I’m heading out. Everyone else is gone. Lock up for me and then slide the keys through the mail slot. I have another set at home.”
Jax waited until the door closed behind Reid before he spoke again, seeking a way to put some distance between them, regain perspective … control. Maybe even discover he was wrong. “Show me it doesn’t happen all the time.”
“Damn right I will.” Marcy kicked off her shoes and stalked through the gym toward the mats. Jax followed behind, admiring the way her jeans hugged her lush ass like a second skin. Despite the emotionally volatile situation, he couldn’t help his body’s response when she turned and he caught sight of the tiny tank top stretched tight over her generous breasts.
His gut tightened as he took his position on his back on the floor. Marcy straddled his chest and leaned over him, her thighs warm against his rib cage. He drew in a deep breath and caught a light floral scent that made his balls tighten. Perfume. He’d never thought she’d be a perfume kind of girl.
“Do it, Jax. Do it now.”
God, he wanted to do it.
Swallowing hard, he pulled her into the submission, his leg over her shoulder, her throat bared to the pressure of his shin. She struggled for a few seconds until he tightened the hold, and then her body stiffened, and she sucked in a sharp breath.
“There,” he said, his voice calm and even. “That will lose you the fight.”
“No, Jax. I’m just … tense. It’s hard to grapple in street clothes.”
“It’s not the clothes, it’s you. Something is still holding you back.” He released his grip and rolled to his side, propping his head up with his hand, trying to maintain enough of a distance to enable him to think clearly. She stretched out beside him, mirroring his position, and he stroked his thumb over her cheek. But instead of telling her what she needed to know, coward that he was, he said, “We’ll keep working on it.”
Her bottom lip quivered. “I’m going to fight in the ROC event, whether you can help me or not.”
“I can do a lot in two weeks.” Hell, he’d done a lot in one week. He had fallen too hard, too fast, and there was no going back. Throwing caution aside, he leaned in and brushed his lips over hers. “I can do a lot now,” he whispered.
* * *
Liquid heat surged through Marcy’s veins as Jax caught her mouth in a searing kiss. She hadn’t come here for this. After Reid had given her the news, she’d intended to give Jax a piece of her mind, prove him wrong, and then walk away. Forever. But as he moved over her body, his heat surrounding her as he eased her onto her back, she couldn’t deny she wanted him with an ache that burned into her soul.
“Fuck.” He buried his face in her neck, his five o’clock shadow scraping over her skin as he slipped his hand beneath her and stroked the arch of her bare back. His lips slid down to the sensitive juncture between her neck and her shoulder, and he sucked hard until a tiny burst of pain made her gasp.
“More.”
He bit down, gently at first, then increased the pressure until the pain made her eyes water and the pleasure sent a surge of moist heat between her legs. A moan ripped out of her chest. God, it had been so long.
Jax pushed himself up on his elbows and studied her face, considering. Then he eased her arms over her head, clasping her wrists with one hand. Her back arched with the strain, and she sucked in a sharp breath as arousal shot through her like white lightning.
His eyes widened, and then his voice dropped to a low, husky growl. “You like it rough, little fighter.”
Memories came back. The soft thud of the flogger. The rattle of chains. Pain and pleasure. Preston’s muttered apologies as he packed up his disgust and self-loathing and ran out the door.
No. Jax wasn’t Preston, who’d had to be told what to do. He wasn’t a man who had to be guided or led. For the last week, Jax had manipulated her body, coaxed her to do his will. She wanted that again. But not just in the ring. She wanted him to take her as far as she could go.
“Yes.”
Corded neck tightening as he swallowed, he slanted his lips over hers and kissed her with a raw, animal need that took her breath away. “Marcy.”
Her heart surged as he rasped her name, and then his lips were on her again, feathering kisses down her neck to the crescent of her breasts. He nipped the soft flesh straining above the vee of her tank top until she was panting beneath him.
“More. Jax … please.”
A deep growl erupted from his lips. “Need to see you this time. All of you.” He released her wrists and stripped her with quick efficiency. No gentle slide of clothing. No slow reveal. No brush of fingers over her heated skin. Within moments, she was naked, stretched out on the soft vinyl mat, the cool air whispering over her body, bared for his pleasure.
His gaze raked over her, and then he exhaled a long, sensual breath. “So beautiful.” He cupped her breasts in his warm hands and squeezed gently before dragging his thumbs over her nipples, circling them until they peaked.
Marcy’s thoughts scattered. Fevered with desire, she arched into him, offering herself up for his pleasure. Jax bent down and captured her left nipple, grating his teeth back and forth.
“Oh, yes.” She hissed out a breath.
With a wicked smile, he released her, chuckling when she moaned her displeasure.
“My little fighter’s a bad girl.” He abandoned her breasts for a slow, leisurely torture of her body, alternating between soft, warm kisses and small, sharp nips that left her gasping for air.
When he reached her mound, he paused and feathered his fingers lightly over her heated skin. “Bare.”
Marcy swallowed past the lump in her throat. Some men didn’t like their women bare. Her first serious boyfriend hadn’t touched her for weeks after her first Brazilian, his lips curling in distaste when he saw what she’d done.
“It’s easier when I’m fighting.” She gave an apologetic shrug.
Jax smiled and pressed a kiss to her mound, his lips soft and warm on her skin. “Beautiful.”
Then, as if he couldn’t bear to be clothed, he p
ushed himself away, stripping off his jeans and his shirt with the same quick efficiency he had used to undress her before tossing them into a heap on the mat.
Although she had seen him wearing nothing but fight shorts, it wasn’t until that moment that she was able to fully appreciate the raw beauty of his lean, muscular body—over six feet of sheer masculine power. Her gaze followed the ridges of muscle over his narrow hips to his cock, hot and heavy, jutting from a dark nest of curls, the thick head pink and swollen. A drop of moisture glistened at the tip. She licked her lips, imagining how he would taste.
“If you keep looking at me like that, I’ll get ideas that’ll result in a rapid end to this encounter.”
A smile curled her lips. “Next time then.”
Kneeling between her parted legs, he feathered kisses over her breasts and her abdomen, the gentle brush of his lips making her tremble with need. But when he skipped over the curve of her sex and nipped the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, she gritted her teeth in frustration. Threading her fingers through his hair, she tugged him up to where she wanted him to go.
“No.” His deep, commanding tone froze her in an instant. She felt the rush of forbidden desire coiling deep in her belly, and a soft moan escaped her lips.
Jax sat up and studied her so intently she instinctively dropped her gaze. When she lifted her head again, the look he gave her, carnal, warning, seared her to the core.
“Hands over your head.”
She complied without thinking, and he grasped her wrists, locking them together, tugging them higher until her body arched, offering her breasts up for his licking pleasure.
“I know what you need.” He sucked and bit one nipple then the other as his free hand slid between her thighs to cup her sex, his warm palm pressing against her clit. She inhaled a ragged breath at his possessive touch.
“You want the freedom of submission, but you’re afraid to give up control. If I had to guess, I’d say it’s a need you buried, and it’s resurfaced in the ring.”
She shook her head as the feelings of shame she’d carried with her since Preston’s abrupt departure washed over her, dimming her arousal. “I’m not submissive. I’m a fighter. Always have been. It’s like you said … I just need it … rough.”
“You need more than that.”
Her thoughts shattered as his fingers slid through her folds, teasing her with the heat of his hand against her throbbing flesh.
“Some needs aren’t meant to be denied.” He thrust a thick finger deep inside her pussy, and her hips came off the mat.
“Yes.” She whispered her confession, her voice thin and raw with desire and a filament of fear. Just like that, he’d ripped away the veil and peered into her soul. But instead of recoiling as Preston had done, he accepted … understood.
Tightening his grip on her wrists, he eased a second finger inside her, stretching her as he stroked against her sensitive inner walls. Marcy writhed around the exquisite intrusion. “Oh god.”
With a strangled groan, he leaned over and brushed his lips over hers, then kissed her so thoroughly she was in no doubt he wanted her. Nor did she have any doubts about who was in control.
“If we knew each other better, I would restrain you more securely,” he murmured. “Hands and feet. Spread open for me. Available for my pleasure. But that requires a certain level of trust, and we’re not there yet.”
A fierce wave of hunger washed over her, and she groaned. Although she ached to be fully restrained, he was right. Only a few hours ago, she hadn’t trusted him at all.
“Jax.” His name ripped from her throat in a pleading whimper.
“Don’t worry, little fighter. I’ll take care of you.” He paused, studied her from beneath his lashes, his gaze focused, intent. “Have you played before, Marcy?”
“Yes,” she said softly, incredulous she was having this conversation. “But not much, and my partners didn’t know what they were doing. They didn’t understand. I went to a fetish club once to learn the basics—safety, techniques—but I didn’t want to play with anyone I didn’t know.”
“You know me. Do you want to play?” His thumb brushed over her clit, feather light, but enough to make her gasp. Her hips jerked off the floor.
“Hell, yes.” She writhed under his touch, aroused as much by the knowledge he understood her kink as by the sensations flooding her body.
“So close, aren’t you?” He touched her cheek gently. “Let’s take you higher.”
Chapter Eight
“Over you go.”
Without warning, Jax flipped Marcy to her stomach and then positioned her on all fours, cheek on the mat, ass in the air. Marcy shuddered as he smoothed his hand over her heated skin. Somehow he could see her deepest desires and was dragging them one by one into the light.
“Should I spank you, little fighter? Punish you for hitting me?”
Craving took hold of her, dark and delicious. She sensed his spanking would be nothing like Preston’s pathetic raps on her ass. There would be no wrinkling of the nose or twitching of the lips. No murmured apologies and self-reproach. It would be painful, and it would be real.
“Yes.”
He parted her legs with a thick thigh and pressed down on her lower back, holding her in place. “Did you learn about safe words at the club?”
Marcy forced the words through the lump in her throat. “Red for stop. Yellow to slow down. Green to go ahead.”
“And now?”
“Green.” Anticipation ratcheted through her, and shame melted into a need so intense it took her breath away.
“Have you ever been spanked before?” Jax rubbed deep circles over her ass, bringing the blood to the surface, warming her up. She knew how it was supposed to work, had guided a few adventurous boyfriends and Preston through every step. But Jax clearly didn’t need instruction, and she trembled under his touch, desperate for that first smack—the blow that would tell her if he was everything she had imagined he would be.
“A few times, but it wasn’t good. Not like how I thought. Like I said, they didn’t know what they were doing.”
Jax’s hand tightened on her lower back. “Lucky for you, I do.”
She froze at the first blow, although it was nothing more than a light slap, her body stiffening, her breath leaving in a rush. He gave her a moment to recover, and then he smacked her again. This time on the other cheek. An exquisite pain.
Yes, yes, yes. So good.
He set up a steady rhythm, alternating cheeks and quadrants, varying speed and intensity. The room echoed with the crack of his palm on her skin, the rasp of his breath, and her whimpers-turned-cries.
“Breathe,” he murmured. “Use your safe word if you need me to stop.” But he didn’t slow down, didn’t let up. Not that she wanted him to.
He smacked harder, and fire streaked across her skin. With each blow, pleasure and pain coalesced into an intoxicating cocktail of desire that sent her mind spinning and made her sex pulse and throb with need. A low, guttural groan ripped from her throat, unwanted, uncontrolled.
“That’s it, baby. Let me hear you.” He smacked her again and again and again until sensation flooded her brain and she was barely aware of where his hand ended or her body began.
“Easy.” His deep voice rumbled in her ear, soft and smooth as Two Step’s best bourbon, pulling her back before he slid his fingers through her soaked folds.
Marcy gasped and tried to jerk away from the unexpected intimate caress, but he held her firmly.
“You like being spanked, Marcy. You like submitting to my will.” He trailed her wetness along her inner thigh and then released her with a sigh. “I would love to take you further, but not today.”
As the fog cleared from her mind, she whimpered her displeasure, and Jax laughed. “Still don’t think you’re submissive? I’m not done with you yet, but if I don’t take it slow, I might scare you away. You aren’t the only one with hidden needs, and I don’t think I’ll last.”
; With the skill he used to manipulate her body in the ring, he flipped her over, grasping her wrists with one hand, and tugging her arms up and over her head. He jerked her thighs apart and, without warning, plunged two fingers into her pussy, slick and swollen with need.
“Oh god.” She tilted her hips and ground against him, pulling against his firm grip as her heels dug into the mat. His thumb pressed down on her clit, and pleasure became pain, driving her arousal higher.
“Oh. Oh. Jax.”
And then his mouth, hot and wet, clamped over her nipple, and he bit down gently. His fingers surged deep, rubbing along her sensitive inner walls until she was bucking and jerking against him.
Too much. Too intense. Her body arced upward, tight as a bowstring as sensation reverberated through her, the lingering burn on her ass only fueling her desire.
“That’s it,” Jax murmured. “Let go, little fighter. Give it up. Yield to me.”
* * *
He felt the moment she let go, groaned as she came apart in his hands.
Cock throbbing, he drew out her pleasure, stroking along her inner walls as her sex pulsed around him, her moisture trickling over his wrist. So fucking wet.
He’d never seen anything so arousing. Never wanted anything as badly as he wanted to be inside her. Ever.
Finally, she sighed and softened, quivered beneath him. Gently, he withdrew his fingers and scrambled to find his jeans. In a moment, he had retrieved the condom from his wallet and sheathed himself.
His gaze raked over her beautiful body as he knelt between her parted legs. Her arms were loose above her head, thighs soft, open. Her pussy, pink and swollen, glistened, beckoned.
She lifted heavy eyes to his and whispered, “I need you.”
God, this woman was made for him. Naturally, beautifully submissive. A perfect match for his dominant nature.
“Please, Jax. Don’t make me wait.” She parted her creamy thighs, and his control shattered. Within a heartbeat, his cock was pressed against her slick entrance. She whimpered, tilting her hips, an invitation he couldn’t refuse.
Yield to Me Page 7