Page 77 of Puck Tease
"Come here," he said, his voice a soft command.
I crawled up the bed, settling between his thighs, my bare skin brushing his.
He didn't grab me. He didn't pin me. He simply looked at me, his gaze sweeping over my face, my chest, my body.
"I'm full," he said, patting his stomach with one hand. "But I still have an appetite."
"Jax, we have to check out in two hours. We have a flight." The words were a soft protest, already weakening.
"Plenty of time."
He reached out, his hand tracing a path down my chest, the tips of his fingers brushing the yellow and white gold ring before continuing down my stomach. He stopped at my navel.
"Rule Number Three," he whispered, his voice a low, intimate rumble. "You don't cum unless I say so."
"I know."
"When was the last time?"
"Last night. On the chair."
"That was hours ago," he tutted, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. "You must be desperate."
I wasn't, not really. Exhaustion still clung to my bones, a deep-seated weariness. But the way he said it, the quiet assumption of my need, of his power to ignite it—it was enough. A sudden rush of blood, hot and insistent, flooded south, stirring me to life.
"Maybe," I breathed, my voice thick.
"Lie back," he ordered.
I obeyed, sinking back onto the soft pillows, my head resting against the cool linen.
Jax moved. He didn't climb on top of me. Instead, he shifted, sliding down the bed.
He stopped at my feet.
He gripped my ankles, his fingers firm, and spread my legs wide.
"I want to see you," he said, his voice a low growl.
He sat back on his heels, his gaze intense, possessive, as he took me in. He looked at my cock, already stirring against my stomach. He looked at my balls, full and heavy. He looked at the puckered, wet hole he had claimed as his own.
"Perfect," he murmured, a sound of deep satisfaction.
He crawled forward, his movements slow and deliberate, like a big cat stalking prey in tall grass. He positioned himself between my knees.
He didn't touch himself. His focus was entirely on me.
He used his thumbs to gently spread my hole, pressing around the rim, massaging the delicate muscle.
"Still loose," he noted, his voice rough. "Good."
He reached for the bottle of lotion on the nightstand—the standard hotel moisturizer. He squeezed a generous amount onto his fingers, then coated himself, his cock gleaming under the soft morning light.
"Legs up," he commanded. "Over my shoulders."
I lifted my legs, draped them over his broad, powerful shoulders. It was a position of complete vulnerability, total exposure. My lower back arched, lifting slightly off the mattress.
Jax leaned forward. He lined himself up, a dark shadow against the bright room.
