Page 73 of Cobra
“Oh fuck!” she screams as she comes and I lap up every bit of it, loving the way she tastes.
I look up at her and see the desire in her eyes. I want her so fucking bad. I grab a condom from my nightstand, slipping it on and then positioning myself at her opening. She arches toward me, and I slip in just a bit.
"I'm gonna tell you my name, and then I'm gonna take you. It isn’t gonna be slow and sweet. I feel like I’ve been waiting for you my whole goddamn life. No one else gets that only you Olivia. Because you’re mine." Her eyes widen at my admission. "My name is Jaxon Hayes."
Shock crosses her face, and I slam into her at the same time. Her hands slide up my chest, but I take them and lean forward holding them above her head before starting to drive into her hard and fast. Her moans get louder and quicker as my soul crushing need comes to the surface. Her thighs tighten around me, and I know that after this build up, I won't last too much longer either.
I pull out, flipping her over before she can even question me. Pulling her ass up, I have her on all fours. My hand crashes down against her ass and she yelps. "Fuck, you're as good as I imagined you'd be." I slam into her again, and she moans, her hands gripping the sheets.
I reach around playing with her clit needing her to finish before I do. I pinch the bundle of nerves between my fingers, and she screams, her pussy squeezing me in a heavenly death grip. “Say my name. I wanna fucking hear it.” I pinch harder this time.
“Jaxon!” she cries out as she climaxes.
"Fuck." Her screaming my name was the final nail in the coffin. I explode as I fuck her harder than I ever thought was possible.
I release my grip on her, and she falls to the bed. Looking down at her sated expression is something I dreamed of. I stand up, pulling off the condom and then pulling her to me.
There’s no way I’ll ever be able to let her go.
Later, the room is quiet again. Not tense. Not sharp. Different.
She’s curled into me, her head tucked against my chest like it belongs there, her breathing slow and even in a way I didn’t expect to hear tonight.
My arm is wrapped around her, holding her close without thinking about it, without questioning it. This feels right in a way that nothing else has in a long fucking time. My body isn’t tight. My mind isn’t running through threats and exits and worst-case scenarios. It’s quiet.
Completely.
For the first time in years… I sleep. Not half-aware. Not ready to wake at the slightest shift. Not waiting for something to go wrong. I sleep. Because she’s here. Because she’s in my arms. Because something in me knows… nothing’s getting to her.
And for the first time…
Nothing’s getting to me either.
I wake up before he does.
That shouldn’t surprise me, but it does. Everything about this feels like it should be disorienting, uncomfortable, wrong in ways I can’t fully explain. Instead, the first thing I register is warmth. Solid. Steady. Surrounding.
Him.
Cobra’s arm is still wrapped around me, heavy and secure across my waist, his chest pressed against my back like he never let go once he pulled me in. His breathing is slow, deep, even. Not the kind of sleep where someone’s half-aware, ready to wake at the slightest shift.
Carefully, I shift just enough to turn my head. His face is relaxed in a way I haven’t seen yet. The hard edges are still there, the lines that come from a life that didn’t give him much room for anything soft, but they’re… looser. Less guarded. He looks younger like this. Not harmless. Never that. But human in a way he doesn’t allow anyone to see.
Something in my chest tightens. I don’t touch him. I don’t move closer. I don’t do anything that might break this moment. I just watch. And then his eyes open. Not slow. Not groggy.Sharp. Focused. On me.
There’s no confusion there, no hesitation as he registers where he is, who he’s holding, what happened last night. His grip tightens slightly. Not trapping. Anchoring. The air shifts. The tension between us isn’t awkward. It isn’t soft either. It’s charged. Unspoken. Like something changed and neither of us is pretending it didn’t.
“Morning,” I say quietly.
His gaze flicks over my face like he’s checking something, making sure I’m still here, still real. “Yeah.” That’s it. That’s all he gives me. But it’s enough. Because I can feel everything he’s not saying.
I shift again, pushing up slowly.
His arm drops away without resistance, but I feel it. The absence. He sits up a second later, running a hand over the back of his neck, his body already resetting into something more controlled, more contained. Distance again. Not physical. Not fully. But it’s there. He stands, moving toward his dresser, movements efficient, deliberate, like last night didn’t crack anything open at all.
But it did.
I saw it. I felt it. And now I’m watching how he puts it back together. That matters. More than anything he could say. I don’t mean to notice his scars. Not like this. Not all at once.
