Jaxon (Blood Angel Chronicles Book 1)

by Jennifer Field

  The tight black dress she wears isn’t meant to be stretched across her parted legs. The soft black material rides up her thighs until a scrap of red lace covering her sex peeks out from between her parted legs.

  “Fucking hell,” I choke out.

  “What’s the matter, Jaxon, cat got your tongue?” Her voice is sing-songy and playful as she visually tortures me. I belt out an inappropriate laugh as my mind instantly goes to Zach’s cat video comment. Yes, indeed, I’d like this pussy to get my tongue.

  The music from the club melds into the background until I don’t see, feel or hear anything but her. With my heightened senses, I’m attuned to her. I can feel the heat radiating from her body, hear the beat of her heart, and smell the sweet desire she’s trying to hide.

  “Why are you so quiet tonight? Would you be this quiet if I accepted your invitation to dinner?”

  When her body starts to move to the beat I no longer care to listen to, I take it as an invitation to touch the creamy skin of her thighs with my hands. When she looks down and smiles, I move them up until my fingers graze the hem of her black dress, toying and teasing her flesh.

  “I’m trying to be a gentleman, but you’re making it very hard,” I tease. Very hard is the understatement of the fucking year. Painfully hard is a bit more accurate.

  “Maybe I want to make it hard.” Her hips continue their tortuous gyrations even as she leans forward and presses her lips against my ear. “I’ve wanted to make you hard since the moment I saw you.”

  Fuck it. I slide my hand up under her dress, grabbing onto her firm ass and pull her forward until that red scrap of material she calls panties rests against my rock-hard cock. She lets out a little pleasure-filled moan as I firmly hold her in place. I didn't think I could get much harder—until I heard that sound.

  “Is this hard enough for you?” I whisper in her ear.

  MAITLIN

  “Is this hard enough for you?”

  His voice is deep and sultry against my ear as he speaks, but good-fucking-god, I can’t find my voice to answer him. I can feel his impressive girth through his fitted dress pants. This man isn’t only gifted in business, Jaxon gifted everywhere.

  I stifle back a moan and the burning need to recreate my best impression of a teenage dry-hump session right here in this night club. Sadly, I fail and begin to rock my hips against him. I know without a shadow of a doubt that when I stand up, he’s going to have a wet spot on the crotch of his pants from how turned on I am. But I can’t help myself.

  His fingers are gripping into the round globes of my ass cheeks, urging me to continue, and dammit, I do. I want his hands all over me, not just on my thighs and ass.

  The liquid courage from earlier is still in full effect, giving me a boldness I don’t usually possess. But by the feel of hardened steel against my panties, I know Jaxon is as turned on as I am. I pull back to look into his eyes, and even in the dim light I can see they’re green with flecks of gold interlaced. He’s staring back at me, neither of us moving. It’s now or never…

  I’m not sure what spell has taken me over, but I lean in and he doesn’t stop me. His grip on my bare ass tightens and he pulls me closer.

  “What are you doing to me, Jaxon?” My mouth is a hair’s breadth from his. All I have to do is lean forward, and our lips will touch.

  “Nothing, yet.”

  His open invitation hangs in the air I can feel his two thumbs softly grazing the line of my panties, with his large hands still splaying the width of my hips. He’s teasing me with every caress, one over the lace, one under.

  It’s the under I want more of, and when his thumb next slips under the fabric, I move my hips, allowing the tip of his thumb to graze my already engorged clit. The sensation is intoxicating and takes my breath away.

  Instantly I want more. More skin, more hardness… more Jaxon.

  “Fucking hell, Maitlin, your pussy is soaked.” Something in his voice gives me pause. What is it? Gravely, pained? No, not pained, it sounds…muffled?

  “I know. You’re driving me crazy.” My voice sounds breathless and full of need, even to my own ears. I rock my hips again, and his thumb gives me the pleasure I am hoping for, and he doesn’t stop there.

  Slow, circular motions with just the right amount of pressure have me wanting more—have me begging for more. But he doesn’t stop with just taunting my clit, his talented fingers join in teasing down my center, then back up, purposeful in his torment, avoiding where I want him the most.

  “Please, Jaxon.” My hips pick up speed until I’m wantonly riding his hand, chasing a release he won't let me reach. I close my eyes tight, and my head falls back, letting my body chase its pleasure. The thump of the music from the club below matches the throbbing of my clit. Even in a night club, there is no one but Jaxon and me.

  I feel his opposite hand snake around my neck, and before he pulls me against his chest, poised at my opening, his thick digits wait, tormenting me. He’s waiting for me to beg to be filled and have him grant me my orgasm.

  “Tell me what you want.” His voice is deep and sultry, making me want to obey his every demand.

  “You.”

  “Bullshit. What do you want, right now, Maitlin?”

  It’s a command I can’t ignore, so I give him the only answer I know he’ll take. “I want to come. I want you to make me come. Please.”

  The words barely leave my lips when I feel two thick fingers plunge into me until his palm rests against my clit. I’m so slick and ready, they slide in with no resistance, and I let a moan slip from my lips.

  “Fuck, you’re so tight.” His words are hot against my ear, and when I feel his lips press against my neck, I nearly get the release I’ve been wanting. “Ride my fingers. I want to see you make yourself come.”

  I do as he commands and unabashedly ride his fingers until I’m sure the entire club can hear the pleasure-filled moans of me coming. My pussy pulses and squeezes around his fingers, and he doesn’t let up. Instead, he adds a third, and my body explodes around him.

  When I’m breathless and sated, he leans back with a Cheshire-cat grin across his face. I don’t even have to say that it was the best orgasm of my life, he’s so cocky I’m sure he already knows.

  Then, as if to prove a point, he brings his fingers to his mouth. They glisten in the dim light, coated in my desire. He doesn’t say a word, only holds my stare with his as he licks them clean while I watch.

  All at once, the sounds, the sights, and the smells of the club come crashing back as I sit splayed out on Jaxon’s lap. The mind-numbing orgasm must have sobered me up some. I’m suddenly hyper-aware of my surroundings and self-conscious of everything he can see with my legs spread wide open.

  My mind is going in a thousand different directions. I’m not the type of woman to let someone practically fuck me in a night club, even if it was a private VIP section. What the hell was I thinking? Sure, on occasion, in college, I had a few random hook-ups. But nothing, and I mean nothing, could prepare me for Jaxon and his magic fucking fingers.

  Way to go, Maitlin, let your boss finger you. Two thumbs up for my life choices lately.

  I glance around the dimly lit room, hoping Shellie made her way back upstairs. But nope, she’s gone. Isn’t Girl Code 101 never leave a girl stranded with her irresistibly hot and equally annoying boss, or something like that?

  Nervousness over my predicament makes me start to fidget on Jaxon's lap. What should I say to him? Hey, thanks for the “O.” Anything I can do for you? Or maybe the lamest of them all, Can I get your number? I’ll call you.

  I’m moments away from spiraling into a full-blown panic attack as we sit in silence, staring at each other. Finally, with no other option, I begin the less than lady-like maneuver of extricating myself from his lap. Not an easy task, considering he pushed my panties to the side, and I now sit spread out utterly naked before him.

  I fidget a bit more in a lame attempt to swing my leg over him and end this… wha
tever it is.

  Jaxon is quick to pull me back down, his hands firm on my hips. “Don’t leave.” The previous harsh and domineering tone to his voice is now gone, replaced by something that sounds almost... sad. “I…I like you right where you are.”

  Words begin to fall from my mouth, something I’ve done since I was a child when I would get nervous. “Shellie's probably waiting for me. We came together, after all. I should find her, she’s probably worried. And…” And, now to make matters a bit more awkward, I’m babbling.

  Keeping one hand firm on my hip, Jaxon extends his arm to look at his watch. “You’re right. It’s nearly four. I should get you home.”

  While his offer to take me home is sweet, it’s completely unnecessary—and dangerous, if I'm honest with myself. If we leave here together, there is a one hundred percent chance that I’ll invite him in, instead of letting him drop me off. Then… Then I’ll be fucking my boss, making things exponentially worse.

  This time when I push off his lap, he lets me go. I instantly miss his closeness. I manage to trip and stumble, since my post-orgasm legs haven’t quite returned to being stable appendages.

  I can only imagine what I must look like to anyone who may happen by the private room. But once I master the art of standing, I fiddle with my panties and pull my dress down to a respectable length.

  “There,” I say as I smooth down the silky material.

  Well, the dress is Shellie's, so a proper length means it covers my ass…barely. I don’t even want to think of what the rest of me looks like. “Look, I’m going to go find Shell. We came together, we should leave together. Besides, I don’t want her to worry.”

  While I’ve been straightening and getting myself back to presentable, Jaxon didn’t move, not an inch. I look down at him pensively sitting on the leather couch where I’m sure numerous nefarious acts much worse than ours took place.

  And that’s when I take notice of the impressive bulge straining against his pants. I felt him between my legs and knew he was no slouch in the cock department. But bloody hell, the man is deformed.

  I’m thankful for the dim light because I can feel the heat rise in my cheeks as I blatantly stare at his lap. And being the cocky bastard he is, he leans back, arms spread along the back of the couch, and gives me a devilish smile. I’m so busted.

  “I already told Shellie I will be taking you home. But I’m going to need a minute before I can get up.”

  That has me smiling. Gone is the tension I felt, and a light chuckle escapes my lips. “Yeah, sorry about that.”

  “Don’t be, and I’m not complaining.”

  He stands and adjusts himself. I have to stifle a laugh watching a grown man rearrange his package to walk. Jaxon insists that we leave through an employee back entrance instead of going out through the front. I make one last futile attempt at returning to the main floor to find Shellie, but Jaxon is back to his dominating self and has none of it. And at this point in the night, I don’t have the energy to argue with him.

  He grabs my hand as we leave the VIP section, and a scantily clad woman leads us to the rear stairwell. The back areas of the club are dark, and I’m thankful that Jaxon, who has no problem traversing the dark halls and has a tight grip on my hand.

  He leads the way down a narrow set of stairs with me plastered to his back. Would it have killed the woman to turn on the lights? How on earth is he unaffected? I can’t even see him, never mind making my way downstairs without killing myself.

  “Do you even know where you’re going?” I ask as we finally make our way to the bottom and he opens a door into what looks like a storage room.

  “Yes,” is Jaxon’s only answer as he picks up his pace, nearly dragging me through the room.

  My only thought is at least there is light, that is, until I start to look around as we make our way through the maze of—are those refrigeration units? As he drags me past, I can’t help but look around. I dig my heels in and yank on his arm until he stops.

  “What the fuck?” My mind is having difficulty processing what I am seeing as I stand peering into one of the large units. Each appears stocked with bags of blood, much like you find in a hospital setting.

  Jaxon tugs at my hand, but I stand my ground, even managing to drop his hand.

  “What the hell is this place?” I try in vain to keep myself from freaking out, but the more I look around, the deeper I fall into a panicked state. Above each unit is a digital sign, not unlike the type we have in the wine room at Rise. Except, these each display a blood-type and… holy fuck, is that a price listed next to each?

  Bile rises in my throat, and I can no longer hold in my terror at the sights around me. My body begins to shake, and my legs refuse to work.

  “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.” I spin in a circle, looking around. “What is this place?” I yell at Jaxon. “What the fuck is this place?”

  He doesn’t bother answering me, he just picks me up and tosses me over his shoulder. His pace is nothing short of a jog as we exit the room into what I can only guess is the back alley of the club. A black SUV pulls up the moment we exit, and Jaxon shoves me into the back before jumping in himself.

  JAXON

  What the fuck was I thinking?

  Didn’t I speak to Shellie about her carelessness at bringing Maitlin to the club and the consequences of having to explain what she possibly witnessed? At very least when she was on the dance floor, Maitlin’s attention was on having a good time.

  I knew the back exit was through the blood storage room, yet there we were, traipsing through like it was a fucking meadow on a spring afternoon. Now, sitting in the SUV next to me, is a woman having a full-on meltdown, and I have no one to blame but myself.

  My reckless behavior over the past few days is inexcusable. I’d expect this shit from Zach, but I have always been so diligent in following our laws. I glance over at Maitlin, who is still spouting Oh my Gods, as Cole, my head of security, speeds through the city.

  “Where am I taking you?” Cole asks, not paying any mind to Maitlin, who is now murmuring something about goth clubs and rich ravers.

  I give him Maitlin’s address without thinking it through. Luckily for me, Cole’s brain is working, and he advises otherwise.

  “I don’t think that’s a wise idea, sir. My team has yet to nail down the whereabouts of…,” he trails off, likely concerned about saying Neil's name with Maitlin in the car. “Might I suggest the apartment at the Lenox?”

  I nod and turn my attention to Maitlin, who seems to have calmed some.

  “Are you all right?”

  She shoots me a sideways glare that says a resounding no. What the fuck am I thinking asking her if she is all right? I just dragged her through a fricking blood bank at a night club. In her mind, I’m sure that was nothing short of a clown in a sewer.

  I watch as she tries to compose herself, and I ready for the inevitable questions. Questions I have no way of answering honestly without divulging a world she knows nothing about.

  “What the hell was that in there, Jaxon?” She stares at me, waiting for an answer. An answer I can’t give her. The truth is what it appeared. It was fresh blood sold like fine wine, priced, packaged, delivered, and stored in the back room of an exclusive vampire club.

  “Answer me, damn it!” Her calm demeanor from a moment ago is now gone, replaced apparently by a screaming lunatic.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I turn to look out the window at the passing city. It is better than looking into her eyes as I lie to her.

  “Bullshit, Jaxon. Don’t turn away from me and pretend you didn’t see what I saw.” She lets out a deep sigh before grabbing onto my arm and forcing me to look at her, not that I offered any resistance.

  “Are you some kind of—”

  I hold my breath, waiting for what I know will come.

  “Freaky aging raver?”

  A full-on laugh escapes me. I was expecting the inquisition, and I get Monty Python inst
ead. “A what?”

  “A raver? I watched this documentary on HBO a while back about the New York City club scene about these goth-ravers, and they did a whole segment about vampire rave clubs.”

  One of the things I am learning to appreciate about Maitlin is her sense of humor. She has a way of being humorous, even when she doesn’t mean to be.

  I sit there, dumbfounded by her response. There are hundreds, if not thousands of other scenarios I would guess she could come up with, but aging goth raver is not even close. I don’t know whether I should laugh or be insulted. Aging… at least she got the vampire part right.

  I look down at my attire, a custom fit three-piece suit, sans jacket and tie that I left at the office. Nothing about me says raver. “Ahhhh, no I’m not a raver. Although, I am a bit insulted at your choice of the term aging.”

  Without missing a beat, her response rolls off her tongue. “But it is some underground vampire club,” she states quite matter-of-factly.

  I sit for a moment, contemplating my answer. Technically, admitting the Black Door is an underground vampire club isn’t lying, and I don’t need to offer her up much more of an explanation. But something in me doesn’t even want to perpetuate the smallest of lies with Maitlin.

  As if saved by the gods themselves, Cole announces that we have arrived at the Lenox. I wasn’t paying attention to our whereabouts as we drove through the city, but I now realize he pulled into the underground secure parking area that I use on the rare occasion that I need to travel during the daylight hours.

  I could jump out of the truck and give Cole a full-on hug and kiss for distracting Maitlin from her line of questioning. Questions, I am sure she will bring up again, but perhaps next time I’ll be a little more prepared and a little less distracted by the scent of her arousal still clinging to me.

  Cole gets out and opens Maitlin’s door as I exit from the passenger side of the SUV. I can tell by the look on her face that this is not the destination she had in mind when we left the Black Door. Our arrival back at the Lenox brings an entirely new line of questions.