Page 118 of Jax & Knox

The rest of the night is a blur. Music plays. Drinks flow. The Old Ladies take over the dance floor, pulling Ainsley with them. She's laughing, her face glowing, her hands touching the rings on her fingers like she can't believe they're real.

I watch her from across the room, Jax beside me.

"We did good," Jax says.

"Yeah," I say. "We did."

Later, much later, we take her home.

She's still wearing the cut, and she keeps touching it, running her fingers over the stitching.

"I can't believe you did that," she says, her voice soft.

"Believe it," Jax says, pulling her close.

Once we're inside, I lock the door behind us and turn to face her.

She's standing in the middle of the living room, her eyes dark and full of heat.

"Take it off," I say, my voice low.

She blinks. "What?"

"The cut," I say, stepping closer. "Take it off. Slowly."

Her breath hitches, but she obeys, sliding the leather off her shoulders and folding it carefully before setting it on the couch.

"Good girl," Jax murmurs, coming up behind her.

We take our time.

Jax kisses her neck while I work on the buttons of her shirt. We undress her slowly, reverently, kissing every inch of skin we reveal. My mouth trails down the soft curve of her stomach. Jax's hands cup her breasts, thumbs brushing over her nipples until they're tight and aching.

By the time she's naked, she's trembling.

"You're so fucking beautiful," Jax says, his hands sliding over her hips.

"So perfect," I add, dropping to my knees.

I settle between her thighs and drag my tongue through her already-slick folds. She gasps, fingers flying to my hair.

"Knox—"

"Let us take care of you," I growl against her clit.

Jax is behind her now, mouth on her throat, one hand rolling her nipple while the other reaches down to spread her open for me. I eat her like I'm starving, slow, deep strokes of my tongue, sucking her clit between my lips until her thighs shake.

"Please," she begs, voice already breaking.

"Not yet," I say, and keep going.

When she finally comes, it's with a sharp cry that echoes off the walls. Her hips jerk against my face. I don't stop until she's whimpering and oversensitive.

Only then do I stand.

Jax turns her toward the bed and guides her down onto her hands and knees. I climb onto the mattress in front of her while he settles behind.

"Look at me," I tell her.