Page 27 of Puck Tease
"Take it off. Now."
My fingers fumbled with the clothes, clumsy and shaking. I kicked off my shoes, the laces catching for a moment before my feet slid free. My jeans dropped to the floor, pooling around myankles. I peeled off my socks on the wet tile, feeling the cold, rough surface beneath my soles.
I stood naked in front of him, exposed. My own skin, unblemished save for the fading bruises on my hips from Tuesday’s session, felt soft, vulnerable, almost translucent against the sharp angles and rigid planes of his frame.
Jax's gaze swept over me, a slow, deliberate appraisal. His eyes lingered on the purpling bruises blooming on my hips, the red marks still visible on my wrists.
"You're healing too fast," he muttered, his voice a low rumble. "I need to leave a better reminder."
He grabbed my wrist. His grip, though slippery with water, was iron-strong. He pulled me forward, dragging me into the torrent of the shower spray.
The water was scalding, a shocking blast against my skin.
"Fuck!" I hissed, the word torn from my throat as I tried to pull back. "Jax, it's too hot!"
"You'll get used to it." His voice was flat, unyielding.
He shoved me against the tiled wall. The ceramic was cold, a stark contrast to the boiling water that slammed against my chest, stealing my breath. The shock made me gasp, a choked sound.
Jax crowded in, pressing his entire body against mine, pinning me to the wall. His wet skin slid against mine, friction reduced to zero, a slick, primal contact. He was heavy, solid, an unyielding mass. His cock, hot and demanding, pressed against my stomach, a thick rod of muscle and blood.
"You kept me waiting," he growled, his face inches from mine, water running off his eyelashes onto my cheeks.
"I came as fast as I could." The words were breathless.
"Not fast enough. I've been standing here for twenty minutes, hard, thinking about breaking you open."
He reached down, his fingers calloused and rough. He didn't bother with foreplay. He didn't bother checking if I was ready. He grabbed my thigh and hiked it up, hooking my knee over his hip, forcing my stance wide.
"Jax, wait—"
"No waiting."
He reached behind me, his fingers finding my slick hole. He spat into his hand—a gesture that had become Pavlovian for me, a signal of what was to come—and slicked my opening, rough and fast.
Then he pushed.
My head cracked back against the tiles with a dull thud. "Ah!" The sound was ripped from my throat.
He entered me standing up. It was awkward, slippery, and brutally efficient. He had to crouch slightly to get the angle, driving upward into me with a grunt. The position stretched me in a way the bed never did, forcing my weight onto one leg, leaving me completely reliant on him for balance.
He buried himself to the hilt, a deep, invasive fullness.
I groaned, clutching his wet shoulders for stability, my fingers digging into the slick muscle. The fullness was immediate and staggering, an encompassing invasion. He felt bigger in the shower, heavier, his presence overwhelming.
"Wrap your leg tighter," he ordered, gripping my ass with both hands, his fingers digging into my flesh, holding me up.
I hooked my ankle around his lower back, my muscles straining.
Jax began to move.
It wasn't a rhythm; it was a struggle, a series of violent collisions. His feet slipped slightly on the wet floor, forcing him to correct his stance with harsh, driving shoves. Every thrust was a brutal impact. My back slammed against the wall.Thud. Thud.Thud.The sound echoed, stark and loud, amidst the roar of the water.
"Quiet," he hissed, biting my ear, his teeth scraping against the lobe. "Do you want to get caught?"
"Then... stop... hitting... the wall," I gasped, the words punched out of me, each syllable a desperate plea.
"Can't help it," he grunted, his breath hot against my neck. "You feel too good. So fucking tight."
