Jax The second I close my office door, I’m backed up against it, and a thick, hard body presses me onto the surface. “Nice outfit,” Gray says, running his fingers over my waist. I don’t know if it’s deliberate, but he does it in just the same place Monroe touched me. “Thanks,” I say, as he leans back, his eyes impossibly bright in the dim lighting of the room. He presses his hips against mine, and I hiss at the feel of his hard- on. “Jesus, Gray.” “How do you know Nick fucking Monroe?” he asks, and my head snaps up to stare at him, my back arching away from him in shock. There is no apology in Gray’s eyes, just a dark purpose I’ve not seen from him before. I frown, staring at him in bewilderment. “How the fuck do you know Nick Monroe?” I whisper. “I make it my business to know about the scum at the bottom of this city’s barrel,” he murmurs, his eyes not leaving mine. I can’t read him at all; his face is a stoic mask, but there’s something in the way he’s holding me that feels almost proprietary. I don’t know what to make of this. “Why did he have his hand on your waist?” he asks, his hands tightening around me, and just like that, my temper flares, and I grip his arms, pushing at them angrily. “Get the fuck off me.” I use all my strength, gripping his forearms as tightly as I can and flipping us around so he’s the one pressed against the door, but the illusion of control is short-lived. He’s still bigger and stronger than me, and his arms go around my waist, trapping me against him. He laughs when I try to fight him off. “Where did you get so strong?” I snarl at him. “Fuck you. I’m stronger than I look,” I say bitterly, gasping as he presses his nose against my neck, licking at my skin, biting it. “Is that your type?” he asks finally. “Bad boys without scruples? Because I could tell you stories about my past that might surprise you.” He shoves his hips harder against me, and I can’t help the low moan that breaks free as he grinds into me. I fight against him again, but he’s incredibly strong. “I think I need to remind you who you belong to.” I close my eyes, gasping at the promise in those words as he pulls me away from the door and turns, lifting me up against him and carrying me to the desk. With one movement, he swe eps the minimal items onto the floor and drops me back down, flipping me around and shoving my face down onto the surface.
Fuck. Why is this so hot? The fear and worry triggered by Monroe begin to spiral away, even before he’s laid a finger on me. I want to feel it again, the emptiness and the peace from when he spanked me before. I am shuddering uncontrollably as he rubs a hand over my ass, making a low grunt in the back of his throat as he lines us up, bending over me, covering my whole body. I groan as a stack of cash is dropped in front of me. I close my eyes as my body throbs with need for him. I don’t know why I love this so much, the act of reminding me what I’m there to do. There must be five grand there, and then another stack lands next to it as I moan low in my throat. His fingers slide over my ass and between my legs, his cock rocking into me. “Right now, you’re mine,” he whispers in my ear. “You belong to me. This money makes you mine, and you’re going to take everything I give you and let me know how much you want it. It’s not like anyone can hear you in here, right?” he asks, the thump of the music throbbing all around us. “I might just see if I can make you scream louder than you ever have before.” Then it happens, the first sharp sting against my ass, and I collapse forward on the desk, my cheek pressed against the smooth surface, the money crushed beneath my tits as the blows rain down. I’m jolted forward every time, his hand sending patterns of heat and pleasure through me as I groan, my fingers holding onto the edge of the desk for dear life. After a minute, he pulls down my tights and underwear and backhands me so hard I really do scream for him, a long wail of release that feels as if it is wrenched from somewhere de ep in my soul. I have never felt silence like this before. We’re in a club, surrounded by sound, and yet I can’t hear a thing. My head is empty. All I can think about is Gray. “Who owns you?” he asks, his hand slamming down against my skin. “You,” I whisper. Right then, I know it’s just words, but I don’t care. I love the illusion of it. The freeing, impossible vulnerability of it. “Don’t ever forget it,” he says, striking my ass over and over, the heat building so much that I wonder if I could come just from this. He spanks me for what feels like hours, until I’ve melted against the surface of the desk, my mouth parted, body slumped, craving the next jarring slice of pained pleasure. Then he kicks my legs apart, and I hear his fly descend as he drops his pants. His hands smooth over me gently as he lines up his dick and holds still. “Okay?” he whispers. I’m barely coherent enough to answer, but he doesn’t move. My eyes are closed, and I’m so blissed out I can’t say a word. I feel his chest press against my back. “Jax?” he murmurs. “You alright?” His voice is edged with concern now, and the tiny part of my brain that can still function is desperate to reassure him. “M’okay,” I manage to get out. “I’m ready for you.” A finger smooths the hair behind my ear, so carefully it almost brings tears to my eyes. He places a gentle kiss on my neck.
“That’s an understatement,” he says, and then I groan as he pushes inside me in one long, de ep thrust. It’s so unbelievably good, I sob out a groan. He’s moving too slowly. I need him inside me now, and with the last bit of strength I have, I slam my hips back against his, burying him to the hilt. “Fuck,” he cries out, hands gripping my hips, before tugging off his jacket and throwing it down behind him. “You'd better hold onto something.” That’s all the warning I get before I’m slammed forward into the desk, his thick dick thrusting inside like a battering ram as he fucks me so hard and fast I can hardly ke ep my body stable. It’s brutal and rough, my ass stinging the whole time. I’ve never felt better. I’m crying out with every slam of his hips by the end, as his hand moves to my hair and takes a commanding hold, pushing me down onto the table. My cheek is pressed against the money beneath me, and it’s the feel of it in that second that has me screaming as I come, harder than I ever have in my life. “Jesus Christ,” he mutters and rams into me several more times before going still. I feel him pulse inside me, filling me up and pushing impossibly de ep. “Fuck, fuck.” I can feel the walls of my body gripping him tightly, and he curses several more times before he collapses on top of me. We remain there in silence, the sounds of the club filtering through the walls around us as we both catch our breaths. “Holy fucking shit,” Gray says, letting go of my hair and smoothing a hand over my neck. After a minute or so, he sighs, standing back up and pulling slowly out of me. I can barely move my arms, my fingers cramping from holding onto the desk. Now that the insanely good sex is over, my whole body aches. I try to push myself up on shaking limbs, only to have an arm scoop around my waist and pull me up to standing. I can’t help but wince, my hand moving to my stomach, where the edge of the desk was pressing into me. I can feel that it’s made a dent in my hip. I hiss as I rub at it, and Gray moves around to face me, his expression filled with concern. “Did I hurt you?” his hands cover mine, smoothing over the spot, rubbing at it gently. “No, it’s alright,” I slur, trying to shake off the euphoria. “Won’t last.” He twists me around, pushing me gently to rest against the desk, but that’s even worse. My ass is on fire, and I wince, pushing off it again, as his brow furrows even more. He st eps back, and for a heart-stopping moment, I think he’s going to walk out and leave me here, but instead, he goes to the couch where the blankets and cushions are. Plucking one from the pile, he comes back and places it behind my ass so I can rest against the desk more comfortably. I chuckle as he positions me against it, and the heat from the spanking becomes a little more bearable. “You stay still,” he mutters, and crouches down, his fingers bunching in my tights as, with painstaking slowness, he pulls them back up, one leg at a time. As he reaches my hips, he struggles to stretch them any further, and I can’t help laughing as he glares at me, pulling at them until I help him settle them around my waist.
Once he has made sure I’m decent again, he straightens all of my clothes so carefully and precisely that I can’t help chuckling at him. A smile tugs at his lips as he meets my gaze. “You don’t have any pants on,” I say as he glances down at his cock, which is swinging freely between his legs. “You think I need to put them back on before I go outside again?” he asks, and I am really laughing now. “Uh. Yeah.” He smiles, a genuine, bright smile, then retrieves his pants and pulls them on, fastening his belt with practiced precision. Once he’s dressed, I expect him to leave, assuming this was a quick booty call and that he’ll want to get back to his life. But instead, he bends to retrieve his jacket, pulls it on, then takes my hand and leads me around my desk to the chair behind. As he does so, something shiny on the floor catches my eye, and I stop, pointing to it. “There’s something there,” I say, my speech still a little slurred as I bend down to retrieve it. It’s a dime, tarnished by time, and well- worn. I turn back to Gray, who is staring at it with that same little smile. “Is this yours?” I ask. “It is,” he murmurs, tugging me over to the chair again. He sits down and lowers me carefully into his lap, scooping my legs over him as I wince again at the weight against my butt. I am stiff in his arms, staring at him in confusion. “Uh, what are you doing?” He puts his arms around me and meets my gaze, raising his eyebrows. “Thought you might pass out there for a second. Just relax for a little while.” I shake my head. “I’m fine.” I hand the coin back to him, and he takes it from my palm, letting out a little sigh of relief. “Why do you have an old dime in your pocket?” I ask. He holds it up to the light, a strange look on his face. “I always carry it. It’s the first money I ever won,” he says. “Back in the day, when I thought making bets might make me rich.” “Did it?” “No. I was going down a really dangerous path, and then one lucrative bet paid off. The kind of money I never dreamed of, and I managed to walk away from a bad situation. It allowed me to break out of a life that might have gone in a very different direction if it had remained unchecked.” I frown at him, thinking of Scott balancing on that knife-edge himself. “Do you still gamble?” I ask, trying to ke ep any judgment from my voice. He smirks. “Not if I can help it. I used to be a demon at poker, but I don’t play any longer.” He places the coin into his inside pocket, smiling up at me. “I don’t need to gamble, I have all the money I’ll ever need, and that dime is in my pocket to remind me of my freedom.” I nod, shifting on his lap, wondering why he hasn’t pushed me off yet. But he seems unwilling to let go of me, and as his arms tighten around my legs, I attempt to get comfortable.
“Did I hurt you?” he asks gently. “Tell me the truth.” “Gray, I’m fine. I would tell you if I weren’t, but I need to get back to work.” “Just take a few more minutes to relax. I shouldn’t have done that here. I’m sorry.” I shake my head again, my mind still foggy from pleasure, my body languid and unlike itself. I feel as if I could take on the whole world, my mind a calm oasis. Finally, after another few moments of stiffness, I melt back against his body. He rubs my legs lightly and places a soft kiss on my temple. I pull back at the gesture, looking down at him. Our eyes lock and hold for the longest time, his fingers smoothing gently over my thighs. I’m not sure which one of us moves first, but then my lips are crushed against his, his tongue pushing into my mouth. This isn’t like the kisses we’ve shared before, in the heat of sex, or the wild abandon of our hard, quick fucks in the office. This is long, drawn out, and so unexpected that I want to pull back. Every pass of his tongue makes me press against him, looping my arms around his neck as he pulls me toward him. The kiss seems to last for hours, and when I finally pull back, I find myself straddling his hips, pressed against him as he blinks up at me. Neither of us speaks as I stare into those impossibly blue eyes, wondering what the hell is happening. After a little while, he sighs. I expect him to push me off and leave, but instead, he rearranges me against his body again, kissing my neck and reaching into his pocket for something. I frown as he pulls it out with a little shrug of his shoulder. “Happy birthday,” he says, handing me a long oblong box. I take it from him, his arm holding me steady. “You didn’t have to buy me anything,” I whisper, fighting the overwhelming urge to hand the box back, rise, and walk out of the room. He doesn’t say anything else, waiting for me to open it. I stare at the box, unsure how to interpret what he’s done, and terrified of making this more meaningful than it is. Surely, this is just his way of ke eping me happy enough to ke ep fucking him? Then I open the box and wish I hadn't. It’s awful to be pressed up against him in that moment, with nowhere to hide. Inside the box is a tiny golden necklace. It’s delicate, sparkling in the light, and utterly perfect. The chain is so slim it almost doesn’t seem real. The pendant is a tiny wind chime. At the base of each tube, there is a sparkling jewel, a little bit like the crystals that hung from the one I gave to his mother. I shudder to think what they are made of. He cannot know how much this affects me, how synonymous this tiny object is with my memories of my mother, and how wonderful it feels to have her next to me like this. “I saw it and thought you’d like it.” There’s something off about his voice now, and I’m struggling to draw in a full breath.
Don’t cry, Jax, for fuck’s sake. Do. Not. Cry. “Thank you,” I say, managing somehow to insert every emotion I possess into two syllables. “It’s beautiful.” His fingers smooth over my thigh again, and when I look at him, he’s staring at the charm with that same wistful expression I saw in his mother’s house. “I haven’t seen you wear anything but black and gold,” he says. I chuckle, glad to break the tension. “Gold-plated, sure. I’m assuming this is gold-plated and these are crystals, right, Gray?” I ask, holding it up to him. He swallows, his eye twitching. “Uh... sure.” I narrow my eyes at him as he smiles. I don’t know what else to say or how to respond, so I just pull it from the box and move to put it on. I fiddle with the clasp for a few seconds before he takes it from me, brushing my ponytail aside and fastening it around my neck. “How does it look?” I ask, forcing a casual nonchalance into my voice that I don’t feel. He stares at it for a long time, his fingers coming up to adjust it, placing it gently at the center of my neck. “It looks like you,” he says softly, and a tidal wave of emotion floods through me, so strong and violent that it’s impossible to suppress. I push myself off his lap, tears pooling in my eyes. “I need to get back to work.” He stares at me, his arms lowering from where they were wrapped around me. “Of course.” “Thank you for the necklace. Stay for as long as you like,” I mutter, and then stride out the door without another word. I need a minute alone to find the darkest corner of the club where I can gather myself. My fingers skim over the charm as I lean against the wall, feelings overflowing as I stand in the dark, holding back sobs. I don’t know why I’m crying, my mind flooded with memories of my mom, her sweet smile as she arrived home, pulling yet another trinket from her bag with such excitement and glee it spread through the whole house. I haven’t received a present for my birthday in years. My fingers clutch the tiny wind chime as I breathe de eply, trying to get myself under control. Somehow, in a mad and overwhelming time in my life, I have managed to find someone who truly sees me for who I am. And I will never really know him at all.