Page 129 of First in Line

When he bites down on my nipple a little too hard, I cry out as my walls pulse fervently around him. He licks the taut tip to soothe the pain away until I beg him to kiss me.

He immediately complies, starved for my lips. We’re not in the best position for this, especially since neither of us is willing to compromise and slow our climb to the heavens. It’s more tongue and teeth than lips, but I don’t care, and I don’t think he does either.

“Jax,” I moan into his mouth.

“Are you almost there, princess?” he grunts, giving me a deeper, more precise thrust.

“Yes… I need—I need—”

As if he were waiting for this moment, his fingers do something different between my legs, ripping a guttural cry out of me. His thrusts double in vigor, and the lethal precision of his fingertips leaves absolutely no room for anything other than a bone-melting orgasm. He rises to his elbow just in time to see me shatter around him in the morning light.

It’s so intense and profound that it almost feels like torture, so devastatingly good it shouldn’t be enjoyable. My vision is blurred with tears of overwhelming pleasure, but I try to keep my eyes on him the whole time. I scream his name as my walls flutter around him over and over.

I’m lost in the midst of it when I feel the first spurt of his climax inside me. The pulses of his length match the raw, divine moans he lets out, as overtaken by pleasure as I am.

Along with the uncontrollable pulses, I clamp my walls to make it as good as possible for him. It must work because he curses, his hips hectically driving into me as he continues orgasming.

Entire minutes seemed to pass by the time we both come down from it. Once he has regained control of himself, he leans in again to lay an adoring kiss on my lips. And when he pulls away, his hand cradles the side of my face while his eyes linger on mine. What I see in them makes my heart flutter even harder than the orgasm did.

We haven’t said the word again, or whenever we did, it was in the past tense. But it’s right there, in the way he looks at me.

Love.

Has it returned, or did it never leave? On my end, I know I always held him in my heart, despite leaving him all those years ago. I learned to live with the gaping hole his absence left behind. But now that he has found his way back into my life, it has been filled again. In fact, I fear he takes even more space now than he did then.

What about him? Has he loved me this whole time? Could he, with the way I abandoned him? I know he hasn’t had any sort of significant relationship since I left. But I still broke his heart, and I’d understand if he had cast me out of it at some point.

After one last, satisfied kiss, he lets himself fall back a little and breathes out, “Fucking hell…”

I concur with a feeble nod, as stunned as he is.

“This never gets old.”

Again, I agree.

When he moves to pull out, I hold him there, my slack hand gripping his thigh again. “Not yet,” I whisper.

He pushes back in, forcing some of his cum out. As we wait for me to be ready to let go, he gently pecks my skin, which is now veiled with a sheen of sweat.

After a moment of this, I breathily say, “Can we circle back to you skipping the Austrian Grand Prix?”

“Hm?”

“It’s not reasonable, Jax.”

“I haven’t missed a race since I started,” he explains. “I even raced when I had COVID.”

“Exactly.”

“I meant they can cut me some slack.”

“Jackson …”

“Come on, it’s Spielberg. Who gives a fuck?”

“Austrians?”

“I’m not even sure they care.”