"Yes, you caught me." I roll my eyes. "Now, tell me."
"A friend. I swear. Nothing more. She'd rather spend the night with you than to ever do anything with me.”
"Is that so?" I giggle, and his grip around my hair grows tighter as his face inches closer to mine. As if that was possible. Our bodies might as well be fused as one. God, he smells so good. Sandalwood with a hint of mint.
"It is. I couldn't show up to that thing alone while you were walking around with that douche noodle. Listen, as much as I wanted to hate and forget about you, you were still my wife, and I'm committed to that…even when I thought you felt otherwise."
"I haven't…with anyone. I—" I mumble, and I'm not able to finish my sentence when he's pushing my mouth to his. I instantly melt in his arms as his tongue sweeps over my lips, and I part my lips letting him in.
How I've missed this. The rush his kiss gives me, the way he makes me feel so…alive.
I need more.
I claw at the hem of his shirt, needing to feel his skin on mine. But I'm failing, the stupid fabric remaining and hiding those washboard abs he has underneath.
“Need some help?”
“Yeah.”
His shirt goes over his head and he tosses it to the floor. "Don't know why I bothered putting it on."
"Cause you were trying not to get me worked up." My eyes roam over his body, and my fingers trace over his collection of tattoos. Particularly my favorite one on his collarbone. The simplest out of all the tattoos he has littered on his body.
It reads, air.
He got the tattoo for me shortly after we started dating. I made one comment how he was my oxygen and gave me strength I didn't know I had. My breath of fresh air I was always looking for. Then he came back one afternoon, with the fresh ink and told me, "If you ever have trouble breathing, you know where to find me for some air."
He might as well have my name tattooed on him because it had the same meaning behind it.
I lean down and place a kiss to it. I move across his chest and kiss his left bicep where a new tattoo takes up residency. "This one is new…" I trace my fingers over what appears to be the Mayan calendar. There’s a bunch of little symbols in each block, but I don’t get a chance to scrutinize each one when he grabs my chin.
There's something that sets me ablaze when his tattooed hand grabs me, taking control. How his eyes always darken, and everything else around us disappears. He’s claiming me, and I’m going to let him. Jaxson is the only person I have ever trusted to give such power too.
"Yeah, I’ve gotten a bunch of new work in the last two years, but I don't want to talk about my ink right now."
"No?"
"No. I'm going to pound your tight pussy till you're screaming my name."
"Promise?" I say wickedly, grinning at him.
"Oh, it's a fucking promise." He plants a soft kiss to my lips. "Now, let's get you out of these clothes."
He releases my face and grabs the bottom of my wrinkly Florida University t-shirt to pull it up over my head. His fingers travel along the straps of my bra; every hair is standing on edge as he grazes my bare skin. He yanks my bra down exposing my breasts, and when I think his eyes will be dark with desire, the dark primal look is anger as they take in the sight of my arms.
"Jax…" I whisper, and his thumb crushes to my lips, silencing me.
He doesn't say a word as he leans down and places a kiss on each purplish green spot as if he was healing them. He always had a way of healing me.
After he gives each bruise his special care, he moves to my breasts, sucking and tugging on my nipples, making them long and hard. I’m yanking at his hair, watching him devour my breasts like a mad man.
"You always did have the most perfect breasts,” he murmurs, releasing my tit with a pop.
His mouth hooks to the side of my neck, sucking and nipping at the sensitive area. His lips ravish over every inch of my body. He’s like a man possessed.
My eyes close wanting to absorb every second of his lips on me, and my fingers thread through his hair trying to bring him closer. My arousal pools, and I’m begging wordlessly for the hand that is on my back to dip into my pants.
To touch me there.
I'm mewing and purring like a petted kitten. I need, I want more.
He's my home. Everything I've been craving and missing for so long. My missing puzzle piece.
"Jaxson. I need you."
I can feel him smirk against my neck. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." I push into him, rubbing myself against his hard cock. My hand slips into the back of his boxer shorts, and I grab a handful of his firm ass to pull him closer.
"Uh-uh baby, not yet." He clucks his tongue and grabs my wrists, sliding them off his perfect butt.
Jaxson steps back, and I frown, missing our connection. "Lose the pants," he demands, and the fire that was already ignited inside of me burns brighter and hotter at the sound of his command.
I slide my sweatpants down my legs taking my underwear with them, then kick them across the floor. Now I’m standing before him, naked and completely vulnerable. Something I haven’t done in years, something I wasn’t sure I would ever get to do again. His eyes rake over my body, and he wets his lips as he takes me in. The years I’ve spent not feeling good enough because my self-worth has been trampled and shredded to pieces by evil is suddenly mended together by a man whose eyes can tell me how desirable I am without even saying it.
It’s amazing how in this second such a small thing is such a big thing I have missed out on.
Jaxson steps in front of me, his fingers grazing down the side of my neck and then down my chest, his lips hovering right over mine. “Breathe baby. I’m right here.”
My eyes meet his, as I release the breath, I didn’t even know I was holding.
"You're mine." His hand cups my soaked core, and his thumb teases my clit.
"I am," I reply with a low moan, not able to deny his claim.
"You remember, I take care of what's mine, right?" He places a finger inside of me and then another. I grip his shoulders, and my legs wobble as he fills me.
"I haven't forgotten."
There's no way my mind or body could ever forget how he could love me and send me to places and highs only he could master.
"Do you still taste as good as you did before?"
"I think only you can be the judge of that?" I pant, and he chuckles in reply.
With his fingers still inside of me, he drops to his knees and tosses my leg over his shoulder. He pushes his face into my needy center and sucks on my clit, making my body instantly tremble. “You were always so responsive to me, and you are just as fucking sweet,” he mumbles before devouring me again.
A third finger slips inside of me, making me feel so full. “Ahh,” I groan and thrust myself into his face, begging for more. “Jaxson,” I moan, yanking on his hair, trying to keep myself upright. My body tightens up as it’s about to fall over the cliff, but just as I’m about to fall, this bastard pulls his head back, and his fingers pull out of me.
"I love my name on your lips, but I want it louder," he says with a dimpled smirk as he stands. What the hell is he doing?
“It would have been if you had let me come,” I pant, malice burning through each word. This ass just laughs, neglecting the fact that I’m dying for an orgasm.
“I have missed you.” He pushes a strand of my hair behind my ear. “So feisty.”
“I miss your tongue.” My eyes drop to my throbbing core.
Come on, baby, eat me, taste me—finish taking care of me for fuck’s sake.
“No pouting, beautiful. Or I’m going to be stuffing my cock into your mouth instead of your tight little pussy.”
“I wouldn’t mind.” My eyes drift to his cock that’s straining in his boxers, licking my lips, suddenly craving his thick, juicy dick.
"There will be plenty of time for that later, baby." He winks and bends down to lift me at my knees and throws me over his should
er.
"Jaxson," I squeal as he carts me to his bedroom. He tosses me onto his bed with a bounce. I watch as he loses his shorts and boxers and his hard dick springs free.
It’s as perfect as I remember.
“You still have that IUD?” he asks, and I nod.
Grabbing my hips, he flips me on my stomach, then pulls me to my knees.
My head turns to watch him as he spreads my ass cheeks. “You have such a pretty pussy. Pink and tight and dripping.”
His mouth is back on me, his tongue lapping up my juices, and his thumb playing with my asshole. I scream. The sensation so stimulating because I’ve been untouched for years. I come, clawing at the mattress trying to keep myself upright, my orgasm is overpowering every nerve ending.
"Fuck, babe," Jax mumbles, his mouth still sucking at my clit.
“Jax, I need you,” I beg, thrusting back into his face. I'm desperate to feel all of him inside me again, to fill me and stretch me completely—to fully claim me back as his.
“You have me,” he says, stopping his assault on me.
“Your dick. I want to feel your dick inside of me,” I pant.
"Whatever you want, baby."
He steps back, grabbing my hips to pull me further to the edge of the mattress. His one hand runs down the curve of my spine, while his other grips his dick, letting it rub along my soaked slit, my juices collecting on its head before he slams into me.
I yell some version of his name as he takes no mercy on me and grunts wildly. “You feel as good as I remember, Rivs. Fuck.”
"Oh, god, yes."
"Come here," he says gruffly, and he grips his hand around my neck, pulling me up to his chest. His mouth sucks and nips at the side of my face, the sound of his heavy pants echoing in my ear as he thrusts into me.
"You're mine," he grunts, as his other hand massages my clit. My body wants to fall apart with each powerful thrust. Words are impossible to formulate. “Say it. Say you’re mine,” he demands, pulling my neck back further to hover his lips over mine.
“Yours,” I manage to gasp out. “I’m fucking yours.”
“I want you to come all over my cock, Rivs. Mark it. Own it.” Jaxson pinches my swollen nub, and I cry out, when the most intense orgasm I’ve had in years rips through me, screaming his name, loudly. “That’s the volume I wanted to hear my name.” He bites my ear lobe, still holding up my withering body.
My nails scrape at his scalp as his mouth meets mine in a heated kiss.
How I've missed his warm kisses, his fucking embrace.
“I could fuck you for the rest of the day.” Oh, I wouldn’t mind. “But, fuck,” Jax roars, and fills me with his warm cum. “So good.”
Jaxson releases me, and I collapse to the bed in a sweaty heap, my heart racing, and my mind spinning. He comes back with a towel and cleans me off and then falls behind me, scooping me into his arms. Even though every ounce of me is electrified by the hard fuck and the intense orgasms I just received, my eyes weigh a ton, and I can’t stop them from closing.
My eyes flutter open, and I realize I passed out from exhaustion. Clearly, lack of sleep and being fucked to oblivion wipes a girl out. Jaxson’s hand aimlessly moves up and down my shoulder, as he stares up at the ceiling. I stretch my limbs and feel oddly refreshed. Revived. This had to be the best sleep I have gotten in ages, if I’m honest. For once, when I closed my eyes I wasn’t haunted by my past and didn’t feel as if I was being crushed by the pain in my heart.
“How long have I been out?”
“About two hours,” he mumbles and places a kiss on top of my head.
Only two hours? It feels as if I’ve slept for days.
“Did you sleep?”
“Nah.”
"What's wrong?" I brush my hand through his hair, trying to get him to look at me. I can feel the tension rolling off his body.
"I'm just thinking.”
"Yeah, I know, I can hear you thinking. It's uber loud.” The only problem is the words aren’t clear.
He sighs but doesn't say anything as he continues to stroke his hand up and down my arm. Goosebumps rise on my skin from his gentle touch, and I savor it. I've missed it so much. I've missed him. I snuggle in closer, suddenly needing to inhale his scent thinking he could disappear again any second.
"I'm just processing everything," he says after what feels like an eternity of silence. "But I’m also enjoying how good you feel in my arms again.” He tucks me in closer.
“I feel the same.”
He's holding back something, but I find myself too exhausted to press him. He needs time, and I need to give him that.
“Do you think I could take a shower? And maybe borrow some clothes?”
“I don’t know. Are you going to stay?”
“I’d like too.”
Not like I have anywhere else I’d rather be right now.
“Then yeah, I think I have something you can wear."
Jaxson is gone from the room when I get out of the shower, but the aroma of something baking tells me just where he is. My mouth waters as happy memories circle my brain as I slip into one of Jaxson’s oversized shirts. When we were together, every Saturday, Jaxson would make breakfast for us before we set out to do whatever for the day.
The man can cook and bake. He was my own personal Emeril Lagasse and Duff Goldman rolled into one.
Now my Saturdays are filled with emptiness and dry cereal because I never have milk. Most of the time I never eat.
When I step into the kitchen and spot him with his shirt off, a mixing bowl in his hand, it's as if I’m being taken into the past and no time has passed between us except the fact he has five new tattoos on his body, and he's thicker in muscle—everywhere.
This used to be my life. I’d wake up to this, he was mine, and I wish for nothing more than to have a time machine to take me back. To when everything was good.
"I can't even begin to tell you how much I missed your food.” I swear I’m already drooling. When I spot the empty muffin pans on the stove, and the cut strawberries, I know I’m in for something good. “Please tell me they're banana strawberry muffins."
"Banana strawberry and blueberry." He smirks, and my mouth waters more.
"Damn. Spoiling me." I grin and stand beside him as he pours the batter into the muffin pans. Jaxson learned to bake for his sister. She was picky when it came to eating, especially during treatments. One day, he found a recipe for cupcakes with a bunch of healthy shit in it—his words—and she liked it, and that started something he hasn't stopped doing since. He wanted to make sure she was eating, even on her worst days. I, of course, got the benefits of trying everything he baked or cooked. When he lays the bowl down, I stick my finger in the mix and then into my mouth. “I think I’ve gone to heaven,” I moan, and I’m about to go for another dip when he swats my hand away.
“You still haven’t learned to keep your fingers out of the bowl. Go sit down.” He pats my ass and then nudges me to the little two-person table.
I sit in silence watching him move to the stove and scramble some eggs. I feel I need to pinch myself in case I’m dreaming because this is a dream I’ve had many times over the last two years.
When he places the plate down in front of me, I reach out for him, slinging my arms around his waist, pressing my face into his stomach. He smells like walking into a fresh bakery.
I never want this little bubble to pop.
"What are you doing?" He chuckles, and I glance up at him.
I want to confess how much I miss this, miss him, but for some reason, all the words freeze in my throat. "Thank you. I haven't had anyone do anything this nice for me—since you."
He brushes back a fallen strand of my hair. "Of course, now eat up. You have a very important meeting this morning."
"I do?" I spy him curiously, and I let my arms fall from around him. I didn't have anything on my agenda this morning.
"Yep. With IT." His lips curl into a mischievous grin.
"
IT, huh?"
"Yeah. In fact, I think I should give you a briefing before it starts…" He drops to his knees in front of me. His hands press between my legs, spreading them apart. The cool air touches my bare pussy, but I’m instantly wet by the sight of the desire in his darkening eyes. “It appears I didn’t give you a full assessment earlier.”
He licks his lips and runs his finger along my dripping core.
"Oh?”
"But only if you take a bite first. Want to make sure you’re getting fed while I do."
"I thought you were giving me a brief?" I smirk and pick up my fork to pick a piece of egg.
"Both. It’s a breakfast briefing." He scoots me to the edge of the chair. “We have about fifteen minutes before the muffins are done, but I happen to like one special muffin made just for me.” He buries his head between my legs and devours me.
CHAPTER EIGHT
JAXSON
As she laid naked, sleeping peacefully in my arms, I stayed up watching her, remembering the day she left me. But instead of the anger that usually poured out of me when the day would flash through me, it was regret. Because now I see the pain that was swimming in those watery green eyes, the pleading looks she was giving me to understand, but most of all the fear. It jumps at me every time I close my eyes. I had seen red flags everywhere. I had known something wasn’t right, but the second she handed me the ring, I dropped every warning she was giving me and gave up on her.
The divorce papers were the second blow; even if they weren't signed, they lacerated my heart that she’d actually gone through with it. It became official she wanted nothing to do with me. Then when I thought she was gone was the final blow. How much more did I need for her to say or do to make it clear she didn’t want me?
Now, years later, I’m finding out that her bastard father fucked with her mind, played her, played me, and took her away from me.
Yes, she should've told me what was going on, somehow, but I should've known her better. Known her father better. He decimated my family and scattered our ashes around till there was nothing left.
River scarred me good, and it fueled this anger in me because I was lost, unable to move on, keeping me tied to her by not signing those papers.
Barely Breathing (Keep Breathing Book 1) Page 7