Page 83 of Puck Tease
I bent at the waist. I placed my palms flat on the rug.
Jax didn't undress fully. He just unbuckled his belt. The sound of the leather sliding through the loops was loud in the quiet room. He unzipped his trousers.
He pushed his underwear down.
He stepped between my legs.
He didn't use lube. He spat into his palm, slicked himself, and pressed the head against me.
"Ready?"
"Always."
He pushed in.
It was a slow, heavy invasion. He was bigger than the plug, hotter, harder. He filled the space completely, stretching me open until I felt like I was splitting.
I groaned, my head hanging low. "Jax..."
"I've got you," he whispered.
He buried himself to the hilt. He stayed there for a long moment, just breathing, letting our bodies sync up.
This was the ritual. This was how he came down. The violence of the game, the noise of the crowd, the pressure of the contract—it all stayed outside the door. In here, it was just this. The weight of him. The friction.
He started to move.
It wasn't the frantic, desperate fucking of our college days. It was confident. Assured. He owned me, and he knew it. He didn't have to prove it anymore.
He drove into me with long, deep strokes, his hips snapping against my ass with a rhythmicthud.
"You like the jersey?" he asked, his voice strained.
"Yes."
"It looks better on you than it does on me."
He reached down and grabbed the fabric, bunching it up in his fist, pulling me back onto him.
"You know what the guys said in the locker room?" he asked, thrusting deeper.
"What?"
"They asked why I didn't go to the club. They asked why the rookie sensation goes straight home every night."
"What did you tell them?"
"I told them I have a very expensive piece of equipment at home that needs maintenance."
I huffed a laugh, which turned into a moan as he hit my prostate.
"Equipment," I gasped.
"Expensive equipment," he corrected. "High maintenance. Very tight."
He slapped my ass.Smack.
"And mine."
