by Kim Cong
His seriousness scared me. “That’s really scary. Australia has such strong gun laws… I’ve never been around so many guns in my life.”
“I know. But I am trained, know how to use them and have a permit. You’re safe, Jet. If you’re really worried, I can teach you.”
“No.” I shook my head. “I’m okay for now. Maybe sometime in the future.”
He nodded and we fell back into silence. A small breeze kicked up, brushing my hair across my warm cheeks.
“Tell me about the last ten years.”
I laughed softly at his quiet question. “Where do I begin, Pax?”
“Start the day after I left.”
I shook my head, a small smile on my lips. “We don’t have ten years.”
“I have time. Got nowhere else to be.”
I nodded. “The day after you left, the first debt collector arrived.”
Paxton
Pax sat in the warm summer night listening to the woman before him. He knew her intimately. Knew where she liked to be touched, kissed, caressed. But the last three days had proven that he no longer knew her.
Ten years ago, he could read every expression on her face, knew every story she had. Now she was essentially a stranger. Someone who he had loved as a girl and was growing to love as the amazing woman she had become. Thirty was only a few months away and he was ready to settle down, start a family. This woman before him had already raised a teenager. She’d already struggled.
Listening to her story now, the lack of bitterness in her voice as she laughed at her past trials, he was awed and humbled by her. He’d been trained by the best. Trained to do the job he did. Sure, there were risks, but he’d had his brothers and sisters in arms to help him. To support him.
Jetta Oliver had had no one. Those blue eyes flashed, those sexy lips smiled. Her everything was the same and yet different.
She’d faced the fire and defeated it.
Pax felt that in him. He’d faced the fire and run like a scared little boy, selfishly denying her everything. His love, his support, even at the very least his friendship—all when she’d needed it most. There was no excuse.
He could look after her now, try and keep her alive and well. Make her happy. But it would always be the dark shadow in the room. The unspoken question of trust.
How could she trust him after he’d let her down so badly?
Shit, he was a bastard.
And the worst part was, he couldn’t care enough to stop being with her. To let her go and let her live a life with someone who wouldn’t let her down.
She trailed off, letting out a little sigh.
“So yeah. That’s about the last ten years.”
“At least now I know where your welding skills came from.”
She laughed. It was sexy, gruff and low. His cock rose.
Pax placed his empty on the table and stood, pulling her up with him.
“Let’s go to bed.”
Her blue eyes flashed, sapphire against her dark lashes. “To sleep?”
A grin stole slowly across his face. Bending down, he touched a kiss to her neck, creeping his lips up to her ear. “Something like that.”
Jetta
Pax pressed me against the glass doors, his mouth nipping and sucking at mine. A hand disappeared under my shirt, reappearing under my breast.
“What are you doing, Pax?” I laughed as he pressed his groin against me.
“If you don’t know by now then I’m sorry to say you’re not the lady I thought you were. Remember, YOLO.”
I paused in my efforts to rip his shirt from his body. “YOLO?”
Pax drew back. “You only learn once.” He winked and went right back to sucking on my neck while undoing my bra.
“That’s not…” I trailed off as he successfully unlatched my bra and palmed my breast.
“That’s not?” He asked between kisses as he slowly slid his hand into the back of my shorts.
“That’s not what YOLO stands for.” I bit his shoulder as he tweaked my nipple.
“Mmm? What does it mean then?”
“You.” I pushed him back.
“Only.” I bunched my hands on either side of his shirt.
“Live.” I pulled with all my strength, causing buttons to fly as the front of his shirt parted for me.
“Once.” I grinned at my handiwork.
Pax looked down at his naked chest and then back up, his devilish grin in place.
“Oh, princess. You are so going to pay for that.” He shrugged off the remainder of his shirt and scooped me up. I squealed and clutched at his shoulders.
“Pax!”
“Shh. I got you. Trust me.” He walked inside, kissing me the whole time. I returned the favour, touching all his revealed skin. God. He was gorgeous. Sinfully sexy.
Pax lowered me to his kitchen counter and ripped my top and bra off.
“Pax…” I groaned as his tongue met my nipple. Threading my fingers through his short hair, I pulled his mouth closer. His hot mouth. His hot talented mouth with its gorgeously amazing tongue. Oh, teeth! Oh, the teeth.
“Damn. Fuck. Damn.” Curses spilled from my lips as he switched breasts.
“Lift up for me, princess.”
I twisted and he easily, scarily easily, pulled my shorts and panties down my legs and threw them over his shoulder.
“Wha—” He covered my mouth with his, devouring it. My tongue met his in a hot tangle. Every single part of me stood up and said hello, sailor. If I’d been wearing a stitch of fabric, that kiss would have burnt it off.
My hands found his crotch and I struggled with his zipper.
A hand halted me. “No.” He shook his head. “I want to…” Pax dropped to his knees, his head at my crotch.
“Oh, gawd,” I breathed as he grinned up at me. Sex on a stick.
“Naughty girl. Breakfast bars are for eating at.” And with that terrible pun he licked me, his tongue hitting the spot even as his fingers began to circle and press. It was too much.
No. Not enough.
“Pax!” I begged, I pleaded. In the end, he took me over with a clever twist of his knuckle and a well-placed tongue. I exploded, my legs clamping on to his head, my body arching on his tongue.
“Mmm… that’s my girl.” He licked his lips, surging up to balance over me. I was breathing heavily, my eyes glazed over.
“Oh, yeah. Look at me like that.” He grinned. “I could jack off to that look.”
“Why jack when you can thrust?” I squeezed my legs around his torso, pulling him toward me. “Please?”
“You ask so nicely.” He pushed his jeans down, his cock springing free. I felt the satisfied smile spread across my face as I watched him slide on the condom. He looked up, eyes at half-mast.
“Now that is a pretty smile.”
I laughed, then groaned as he rubbed his dick against my clit.
“Nothing to say?”
I shook my head, using my body to speak instead. Tightening my legs around him, I tried to pull him closer. My hips arched as I reached for him with my hands.
He slid in to the hilt.
“Yes.” The word hissed between my teeth and my back arched. Delicious. He felt delicious.
“Oh, fuck, Jet. Fuck, you feel good.” His teeth came to my neck, nipping then licking. As he slowly pumped in and out, his lips wandered up my neck. I shivered and groaned as he hit every erotic zone on the way.
“You ready?” His whisper was hot in my ear.
“Oh, yeah.” My hands clenched on his back, my fingernails digging in.
“Good.” An arm pulled one of my legs up as he started thrusting. His teeth grazed my earlobe as I felt him shudder over me.
“Jet—”
“Pax!”
We roared to a climax together. He collapsed on me on his kitchen bench, both of us breathing hard.
“Better every time,” he muttered into my hair.
“What?”
“This.” He raised up on one hand
, an impressive use of strength, his bicep bulging. “Every time with you, the sex gets better.”
I grinned. “And?”
“Yes, my goddess.” He kissed my lips then started to move down my body, pausing at the dip between my breasts. “You’re the best I’ve ever had.”
I laughed and waved a hand at him. “Continue, slave.”
He gave me a devilish grin paired with what I could only call an eye twinkle. “As you wish.”
We finally made it to the bedroom much, much later.
Jetta
The first concert was to be held in Canberra. As a teen, I’d never understood why my parents settled in this city. Sydney had the Opera House and other big-name celebrities, Melbourne had a rocking music scene, Brisbane was warm and close to the coast. Hell, I’d lived part of my life in New York, LA, and various parts of England. It had never made sense that my parents had picked this city.
Following their death, I’d discovered that my mother’s parents were still alive and living in Canberra. My mother had been disowned by them when she’d run away to become a singer. Years had passed but when I’d finally found them and contacted them regarding my situation, I’d been firmly told that they had no daughter or grandchildren and to never call again. I understood why she’d done it. She’d wanted to throw it in their faces, the family she had, the success she had become.
All for naught. They didn’t care. They never had.
We were practicing in an empty warehouse out in Hume. It amazed me that it was only the Monday after I’d signed the paperwork and yet Paul had already pulled together a practice space, a recording timeslot and media blitz. Not to mention getting my parents’ band mates to sign on.
The inside of the warehouse was boiling. It was like walking into a sauna. I’d done Bikram yoga once, in a fit of detox guilt, and nearly died. This was twice as bad. Where before I’d paid for the privilege, this time I had no option. I was being paid to be there. Heat from the February sun beat down on the metal roof all day, creating a haze. I went through five water bottles in the first two hours of practice.
Paul had arrived first. As bassist to my parents and now producer and manager, I wasn’t surprised that he was still keen to play. He loved the spotlight and the party scene, and years of abuse had taken a toll on his body, so it was surprising that he’d kept up his guitar skills, managing to remember every note and keep up with the rest of the band. Anthony the drummer and Marco the rhythm guitarist were in much better shape. Both had left after the accident.
Anthony had moved overseas to become the drummer for a successful rock and roll band. He’d married Angie, a woman who looked like a younger, saucier Helen Mirren. They currently didn’t have any kids, but did own five French bulldogs.
Marco had decided to take time off and travel. While in Spain, he’d met a woman named Daniela who had assaulted him in the street with her bag. Instead of saying, “Disculpe señora, ¿dónde está el hotel más cercano?” meaning, excuse me madam, where is the closest hotel? Marco had instead said, “Disculpe señora, ¿dónde está el burdel hotel?” meaning, where is the hotel brothel? They’d popped out four kids in six years, and were blissfully happy running a music and dance school.
Both men enveloped me in a hug, squeezing the life out of me, and introduced their significant others. I’d missed them. Marco had taught me how to play Flamenco guitar, a skill that had made me quite a bit of money busking on the streets when I needed extra coin. Anthony had bought me my first bongo drum kit, a giant thing that I still owned. It was useful for smashing out frustrations and making beautiful beats.
I squeezed them both back, breathing in their familiar scents and feeling the comfort that only hugs from people who had known you your whole life could bring.
“I’m sorry about Ney-ney, Jet Plane. That sucks.” I nodded and shrugged a little at Anthony’s comment.
“Shit happens. She’s getting the help she needs though.” I didn’t comment on how hard it had been not to be able to contact her on her birthday.
“If you ask me—” Marco started, only to be cut off by Anthony.
“Mate—”
“Someone like her manager—”
“Seriously, man, drop—”
“Should have had her back.”
“It.” The two glared at each other as I glanced over at Paul. Paul stood by the stage talking animatedly to someone on his mobile.
“No, man.” Marco shook his head angrily. “I’m not going to drop this. Paul was responsible for these girls. He knew that. For years we’ve been relying on him to make sure they stay safe. And he was Courtney’s manager. Motherfucker couldn’t keep an eye on our girl? Jetta tells us she’s been in this shit for years! Uncool, dude. Uncool.” He crossed his arms, shaking his head at Anthony, who sighed.
“Look, I never said I was okay with it. But the fact of the matter is we haven’t been here to keep tabs. Paul has a lot on his plate and shit slips through.”
“Drugs? Mate, you know—”
“I know.”
“I don’t,” I interjected, just as Pax arrived, wrapping an arm around my waist.
“Hey, princess.” He pressed a kiss to my temple before turning to the group. “What doesn’t Jet know?”
“And who the fuck is this?” Anthony asked, gesturing at Pax.
“Oh, ummm…” I glanced up at Pax then back at men who were essentially my uncles. “Marco, Anthony, this is Paxton Elliot.”
“The guy from—”
“Yeah.” I nodded at Marco, who glanced back and forth between Pax and me before holding out his hand.
“Good to finally meet you, man.”
Pax clasped his hand and shook it. “Likewise. Jet talks about you guys all the time.”
“Heard you served for a while.” Anthony threw this in while he shook Pax’s hand. I felt my anxiety levels spike.
“Yeah, army.”
“You out?”
“Honourable discharge. I work at Elliot Securities now.”
“Same name. That your business?”
“Dad started it. I came on as full partner after leaving the army.”
“And you guys do?”
“A bit of everything really. Bodyguards, gig security, surveillance, private security, one-off jobs, software testing. You think it, I have the people to do it.”
Anthony turned to shout at Paul. “Yo, Paul!”
Paul looked up, holding a hand to his phone. “What?”
“We got Elliot Securities on this gig or some cheap hack team?”
Paul flapped a hand at him. “I got it covered. We’re using a—”
“We’re using Elliot Securities or Marco and I walk.”
“What the fuck, Anthony?”
Anthony shrugged. “I trust the guy. He’s looking out for our little Jet Plane and got Ney-ney in therapy. I trust the dude.”
“Fine.” Paul cut his hand down in cutting motion. “Let my PA know and she’ll get it sorted.” With that, he turned away, muttering into his phone.
“Are you okay with that?” Marco asked Pax, who was still watching Paul.
Pax shook himself and smiled over at my uncles. “Yeah, we appreciate the business. I’ll get some guys over here today.”
Anthony nodded. “Good.”
“We gotta…” Marco flicked a thumb over his shoulder toward the stage. Pax nodded, hiding a grin behind his hand. My eyes met his and I rolled them, laughing a little as Marco literally pulled Anthony away. These guys may be in their late forties but they acted like they were in their early twenties.
“Subtle.” I laughed as they kept glancing over at us.
“Hey.”
I looked up at Pax, who was grinning down at me. “They just want to know you got a good man who is going to take care of you.”
“Know where I can find one?”
“Ouch.” He drew me in to him, my chest against his. “Princess. I am that guy.”
“Oh really?”
“Mmm…”
He started lowering his head.
I grinned as he touched his lips to mine. “They’re looking.”
“Let them.” He used tongue.
Monday and Tuesday were spent in intensive twelve-hour stretches of practice. Paul required us in Sydney from Wednesday through to Friday to record songs for the best-of album. So Marco, his wife and kids, Anthony and his wife, all our bodyguards and I took a plane to Sydney.
It was strange to be away from the man who so consumed me. I felt like for the first time in weeks I was able to gain some perspective on our relationship.
And what I saw made me question things.
I had barrelled into Pax’s office, scared out of my mind and barely able to process the reality of the situation. He’d done what he did best, took control and led.
I was in his bed less than four hours after reconnecting. I was sleeping with him in less than a week. The absence of his physical presence let me look at our situation rationally.
In a nutshell, my feelings for the old Pax had led me about by my lady parts.
I could now acknowledge that everything I had said to Addie and Evie that day in the hospital was still true. I was easily swayed by the shadow of my teenage angst. But, at the same time, my mature grown-up self was acknowledging that there was a lot about this grown-up Pax to like. He commanded respect amongst his peers. Was brave, strong, he learnt from his mistakes, was willing to listen and share where he could.
Not to mention the man had a body and smile that did all sorts of things to a girl.
At the end of the plane ride, I had made a decision. Space equalled good. Therefore, I would call him. No chats getting side-tracked by roaming hands. No getting distracted by a body made for sin. Just me and him talking.
I called Pax in the taxi.
“Hey, princess.” The warmth in his voice seeped deep under my skin, pooling somewhere near my heart. All the tight muscles in my neck eased, his tone relaxing me.
“Hi.”
“So, you want to tell me why I received an invite to Jarrett’s birthday bash, addressed to Jetpax?”
I giggled. “No idea.”
“Huh. Coincidence that he just happened to come up with that?”