by Ashley Lane
He raises his hips, our dicks meet, and he moves against me, a slow torturous rhythm that has me falling into the place where I lose all coherent thoughts and my only focus is on Jax.
“Do you feel that?” He grips my ass and pulls me into him, our dicks throbbing between us.
I nod and groan.
“Good. I’m glad you like it, because mine’s the only dick you’re ever gonna touch—Same for me, you understand?” He rolls his hips again not waiting for my answer. “Now, get me prepped and fuck my goddamn ass.”
Well then… sir, yes sir.
I slide down Jax’s body, leaving wet kisses in my wake. When I reach his dick, I take him into my mouth while I fumble for the drawer and pull it open, fumbling again for the bottle of lube. I release his dick with a pop and sit back on my heels to open the lube. As it drizzles down Jax’s crack, his eyes meet mine and for a moment I’m lost to his stare. He raises a brow and glances at my hands between his legs, and I groan.
Thanks to my brief distraction, slick lube now coats his cock and balls as well as his ass and the desk. Oh well. I always did like it messy. I drag one finger down from the tip of his cock to his hole and circle it slowly before I push inside. Thick bands of muscle clench around my finger, but he moves slowly, getting used to the sensation before he urges me to continue.
Leaning over him, I move in for another kiss and a shudder runs through my body when he bites at my bottom lip then whispers, “You’re mine, Maddox.”
I push a second finger into his tight hole, and he gasps before nipping on my lip again then kissing me breathless. “Yours,” I agree.
As I finger his ass, the slurping suction sounds of the lube only heightens the eroticism of the moment. The scent of sex lingers in the air and by the time a third finger enters Jax’s hole, he’s writhing beneath me, moaning and begging for more. Slowly, I aim for his prostate and when my fingers graze over the spongy spot deep inside him, he bucks against me.
All traces of my big alpha that loves to top from the bottom disappear. “Ahhhh… MADDOX! Fuckfuckfuck, baby more—oh fuck no, stop…” He shakes his head hard, babbling and pleading while all at once begging me to stop. Unable to resist, I push him—and my fingers—a little further, basking in the control I possess over him in this moment.
I laugh as I withdraw my fingers and press another kiss to his lips. “Aww baby, you okay?”
“I was gonna…” He’s cut off when my dick presses against his entrance.
“You were gonna what, baby?” I ask, kissing him again.
He glares at me and growls. “Goddamn you.”
My laugh is cut off when I push in a little farther, feeling his hole tense around my dick. I slide the fingers of my hand that wasn’t just in his ass into his hair and concentrate on his face as I continue pushing inside. “Okay?” I whisper.
He nods. “More… just—yeah, oh fuck—like that… keep going.” Following his lead, I move again, letting him set the pace.
He reaches for me, hands gripping my hips, fingernails digging into my flesh. “Come on. Harder, Madd. I need… fuck, I need more.”
I brace my hands on the edge of the desk and give him what he wants. I pump my hips, in and out, falling into a steady rhythm that falls apart when Jax growls in displeasure. “Fuck me like you mean it, goddamn it.”
Lifting his legs, I hold his ankles by my shoulders and tug him closer, then I give him what he wants and pound mercilessly into his ass. The vision of my dick being swallowed by his tight, hot hole has me clenching my jaw in an effort to stave off my orgasm. Each glide has my balls slapping deliciously against his ass, and I know I won’t be able to hold it much longer.
“Give me your mouth” he demands, reaching for me.
Releasing his legs, I lean down and feel him wrap himself around my body. His fingers tangle in my hair, he’s biting, scratching across my jaw and up my neck as we move together.
At the same time his muscles clench around my cock and I release inside him, I take his cock in my hand and pump him once, twice… the third time sees him spill over my hand and his stomach. I bring my fingers to my lips and suck them, making Jax groan.
“I fucking love it when you do that,” he says, then he grabs my hand and sucks my finger into his mouth as I withdraw from his body slowly.
Tugging me back down, our tongues dance, twirling, licking, sucking until we’re a mess of limbs, sweat and come. When our kisses turn lazy, Jax pulls me down to his side and we face one another, our noses almost touching, fingers twined together.
“You okay?” he asks.
I nod. “I am now. I was fucking terrified to tell you, but I’m glad I did.” I pause, searching for the right words. “I feel different now. Not as heavy, you know?”
He swipes my hair off my forehead and cups my cheek. “You know I wouldn’t have recovered from losing you.” He laces our fingers together again and presses our joined hands to his heart. “You’ve been here for so long… it doesn’t even feel right to call it mine when it beats solely for you.”
Well goddamn. If you asked me ten minutes ago, I’d have said there was no way I could ever love him more than I already do. Then he goes and whispers words that would cause Shakespeare himself to swoon, and I find myself falling a little deeper after all.
CHAPTER 16
OAKLEY
A six-foot-tall bamboo fence surrounds the rear parking lot of Corrupt for what I’ve learned is one of their more popular adult only events. Corrupted Mermaids is the theme this year, and if the beach set up—complete with pristine white sand—isn’t a giveaway, the fifteen girls dressed in shell bras and mermaid tails would be a dead giveaway.
“Good day for it,” a deep voice says beside me.
I turn to see one of our regulars, Nick. “It is,” I say, extending the tray in my hands. “Would you like a drink, or a shot?”
He eyes the fancy cocktails and the bright blue shots on my tray, then shakes his head. “I’ll stick to beer. Thanks, Oakley.”
Shelly was right, I’ve only been working at Corrupt a few weeks and already I know so many people by name and I love the sense of familiarity it gives me. I give him a smile before he heads over to the bar, throwing his empty bottle into the trash can on his way. Nick is a huge guy with a long scraggly beard and dark brown eyes. He’s one of the sweetest men I’ve ever met, a real softie beneath that rough exterior.
Two women rush me dressed in white string bikinis, their neck adorned with the shell necklaces and leis we’re giving out today.
This is no ordinary dress-up party. Angel, along with a few of the dancers, organized a renowned makeup artist to come in and transform the girls into stunning mermaids complete with fake gills, glittering eyeshadow and highlighter, and an array of metallic makeup that makes the scales on their necks and chests appear so realistic I can’t stop staring, waiting for them to flicker against the setting sun.
After the excitement of the topless carwash died down and the suds and bubbles were washed away, the night’s main event was revealed where it had been hiding behind a huge backdrop. Shouts of fuck yeah and hell yes fill the night as the men get their first look. A giant eight-foot-deep by twelve-foot-wide mermaid tank stands as the girls’ stage tonight.
Tasha was the first to enthusiastically volunteer as tribute and once her silicone mermaid tail was attached, she dropped into the crystal-clear water, a huge smile on her face as she sunk down, blowing bubbles all the way.
Now, I’m standing in front of said tank in awe of the way Tasha moves. There’s not an ounce of fear on her face even though her legs are quite literally bound together while she’s half naked. Her ‘tail’ moves up and down as she swims from one end of the tank, does a forward roll, then pushes off the glass and swims back to the other end.
Shelly stands beside me, handing me a non-alcoholic version of the cocktail Rhys named Mermaid Tears. A sickly sweet smelling concoction of blueberry puree, soda, and a thick glittery syrup he assured all of us
was safe for human consumption. With a tiny plastic mermaid sitting on the rim of the glass, and a blue curly straw, Mermaid Tears is surprisingly good. I take another long sip before I turn to Shelly.
“You look amazing,” I say honestly, taking in her costume and pearly shell bra.
She wiggles her hips. “I love this. These days are so much fun.”
When Shelly’s name is called out by one of the other girls, she pats my arm. “I gotta go, I’m next in the tank.” With a wave and a smile she rushes over and sits on the side of the tank, waiting for a now topless Tasha to come out.
With my empty glass in my hand, I head over to the outdoor bar where Rhys is serving customers along with a few of the girls who are dressed in grass skirts and coconut bras.
A man sidles up to the bar beside me, giving me a once over before smiling. “Hey there, you’re the new girl, right?”
I smile back. “Yeah, I’m Oakley.”
“Grant,” he says, extending his hand. “Mind if I buy you a drink?”
My first instinct is to say no and walk away, but I’ve learned that when a customer wants to buy you a drink, it’s good manners to accept. I reluctantly nod. “Thank you. Non-alcoholic please, I’m still on shift.”
He smiles. “No problem, sweetheart.”
While Grant waits for a free bartender, I take the next tray of drinks and make my way around the tables set up on the sand. Palm trees in huge, blue stone pots are placed around the tables, their large fronds create spots of shade beneath the last rays of today's sun.
I hand out drinks and make small talk while I take glances at the girls dancing on the makeshift stage beside the tank. Wiggling hips, bare breasts, and mounds only covered by the small triangle of their thongs are all on display and the crowd of men that’s gathered are becoming a little rowdy. With each obscene shout and gesture, the security guys move closer, eyes scrutinizing the men.
Ignoring the scene, I turn toward the bar when I spot Grant coming toward me. He eyes the empty tray in my hand and extends his, a Mermaid Tears in his hand. I thank him and take it, having a small sip before I nod toward the bar.
“I really need to get back to the bar, thanks again.”
He places a hand on my forearm to stop me and I flinch.
“Hey Scarface, shouldn’t you be working?” the voice I loathe appears as Malcolm comes into view.
Grant steps forward and angles his body in front of mine. “Whoa now, there’s no need for that.”
While Grant’s intentions are noble, Malcolm towers over him. There’s not a doubt in my mind he’d be pummeled flat if he went up against Malcolm. Knowing this, Malcolm steps up until he’s chest to chest with his less than worthy opponent. “You can drop the knight in shining armor act, Grant. I’m sure she’d give it up to you without it.” his lip pulls into a sneer as he glances my way. “Maybe her pussy was able to avoid whatever it was that fucked up the rest of her.”
I choke on a whimper and reach to stop Grant as he advances on Malcolm, disadvantages be damned. There’s no need for him to be another victim of Malcolm. After all, this is between me and him.
Seeing he’s won yet another round, Malcolm backs away but not before he narrows his eyes on my drink. “Drinking on shift… what a naughty girl.” He tsks. “That better not be alcohol, Oakley. It would be a shame if our boss found out.”
I tighten my grip on the glass. “Excuse me, I need to go.” This time, I rush forward, not even glancing back at him. When I make it inside to the women’s bathroom, I go into the cubicle and sit on the toilet seat.
Do not cry. Do not give him the power of winning your tears. Even still, I can’t stop the stray tear that streaks down my face.
A few deep breaths and some ridiculous inner speeches later, I finish my drink. I leave the empty glass on the bathroom counter, and wash my hands before I head back to the bar, determined to get through this day without any more reminders of my past and the scars it left me with.
***
ANGEL
Where did she go?
One minute, Malcolm was up in Oakley’s face, the next minute she was gone. I narrow my eyes, scanning the crowd for her. I know something happened. The second the douchebag that’s been eyeing her all night stepped in front of her, his hard gaze pinned on Malcolm, I knew something was going down. Knowing his days are numbered is the only thing that kept me in my seat. That and the fact that Malcolm is smart. If he got even a hint that I have a special interest in Oakley, I know whatever vendetta he has against her now would turn tenfold.
Okay so, special interest may not be the best words, but I can’t explain my fascination with her. Through the years countless women who have fallen on hard times have come and gone through our doors. But if I’m being honest with myself, I know what it is that’s drawing me to her.
Her scars.
From the moment I met her, I’ve been utterly captivated by the deep pink scars that mar her otherwise pale flesh. As though they’ve been designed by an artist, the scars twist, turn, and shoot across her skin in branch-like formations from her hairline, across her cheek, and down past her jaw and neck. It’s almost as though the entire root system of a large tree has been burned into her flesh. Other parts appear more like deep scars that were somehow carved into her flesh.
That night I spent hours lying in my bed and scouring the internet for pictures and information on burns and scars.
From what I can tell, Oakley’s scars are similar to the ones that remain after scarification or branding. But further research showed similar scars on lightning and electrical burn victims.
Further down her chest, and on her arm where I’ve only caught a few fleeting glances, her skin appears to have healed from either second- or third-degree burns. She’s an enigma, and there’s an aching need growing inside me to learn her body and read her scars. My fingers itch to trace them, to follow their crooked paths and raised surfaces and find a way into her heart and soul, using the lines on her skin as a map. An indelible imprint into the secrets she holds beneath those beautiful eyes. More than anything, I want answers to my questions about them. How did it happen? Was it an accident? What happened in her life that led her to staying at Angel’s Cove? Who do I need to protect her from?
As always, it’s the last question that has me pausing, wondering for the hundredth—or is it the thousandth time—Why do I want to protect her? What was it about her that calls to me?
Stop lying to yourself, Maddox. That need to protect her comes from a place so different to hers, yet it’s still the same. While Oakley and I are both judged for our outer appearances and it’s clear Oakley loathes her own, I doubt she realizes just how much I loathe mine too.
I need to show her—make her not only believe but understand that true beauty comes from within.
Jesus Christ… I’m turning into Jax. Protecting and fixing the broken ones until they learn to love themselves again.
An hour later, I’m sitting at an outdoor table beside Jax, watching Shelly and Tasha swim together inside the mermaid tank. The mermaid tank cost a pretty fucking penny to rent for the night but by the looks of the crowd I know the profit will more than cover the hit.
“They look fuckin’ good, right?” I say to Jax.
He nods in agreement before taking a mouthful of beer from the bottle in his hand. His soft, full lips wrap around the top causing my dick to harden. Fuck he’s hot.
As if knowing my inner thoughts, Jax smirks and winks at me. “You should get in, go all Merman… now that’d be hot.”
I choke on my beer. “No fucking way.”
Jax laughs, and glances around the crowd. “I haven’t seen any of your brothers. Thought for sure they’d make an appearance.”
I can’t hold back my laughter. “Are you fuckin’ kidding me? No way would they risk the wrath of their women to come here. They’d have their dicks for sure.”
Jax’s hand moves to cover his junk and I stare, completely jealous of the appendage. “Well
that’s an image I didn’t need,” he grumbles under his breath and I snort when he gives his dick an appreciative pat as if making sure it’s still there.
“Need me to check on it for you?” the desire in my voice can’t be missed, and it’s mirrored back at me in Jax’s eyes. But the lust drowning his eyes quickly morphs into anger. I turn behind me and follow his gaze to see Oakley giggling, her arms over the shoulders of Nick, one of our regulars.
He’s a stand-up guy and I’d trust him around any one of the girls here, but Oakley? She’s off limits… to everyone. And surprisingly, I see I’m not the only one who feels that way. I glance back at Jax to find his hands fisted on top of his jeans, the muscles in his forearms flexing. Interesting…
I turn back to watch Oakley when my eyes find Malcolm, a filthy sneer on his face aimed right at Oakley. When he approaches, Nick whispers something in Oakley’s ear—she nods and steps back.
Malcolm’s face contorts with rage. His voice is easily drowned out by the music playing through the open area, so I can’t hear what he’s saying, but when he storms off, Oakley remains by the bar while Ben places a round of drinks on her tray.
“Know what that was about?” Jax asks.
I shake my head, my eyes never leaving Oakley. “You think she’s been drinking?” She knows the rules and has never once broken them that I’m aware of, but I have to admit—I’m grasping for any reason to write off her obvious over-friendliness with Nick.
My gut revolts violently at the thought of her being interested in him. Thinking of him touching her, or her him.
Jax brushes off my question, his eyes never leaving Oakley and I lean back in the chair, following Malcolm as he makes his way through the crowd. He stops several times talking to a few of the men, and ogling the women like they’re merely bodies, ripe for the taking. Fucker really needs to go.