Chapter 3: The Breaking of the Dam
The kiss was a pact. The moment her lips touched him, something sealed shut inside her, and something else, wild and hungry, broke free.
He was smooth and shockingly hot against her mouth. She lingered there, trembling, until his hand fisted in her hair—not painfully, but with absolute ownership—and guided her down.
The blunt head pressed against her lips, and she opened them. Salt and clean skin. She took him in, an inch, then two, her jaw already straining. It was too much. She made a muffled sound of panic and tried to pull back.
“Breathe through your nose,” Jax murmured, his voice a rough slide above her. His other hand came to rest on her cheek, his thumb stroking the stretched corner of her mouth. “Just relax your throat. I’ll go slow.”
It was a lie. He was not a slow creature. But the instruction, the pretend care of it, let her obey. She sucked in a sharp nasal breath and let him push forward.
Her world narrowed to this single, impossible point of intrusion. The thick ridge of him filled her mouth, pressing her tongue flat, nudging the back of her throat. Her eyes watered instantly. She gagged, a wet, involuntary choke that made her entire body convulse.
“There you go,” he said, a dark thread of amusement in his praise. “Just like that. Get used to it.”
He held himself there, letting her spasm and drool around him, letting the tears track down her cheeks. The shame was a bonfire in her chest, but beneath the flames, coals of arousal glowed hotter. This was degradation. This was also a kind of worship, and her body, traitorously, understood both.
He began to move. Short, testing thrusts that made her gag each time. The sound was obscene, a rhythmic, wet struggling that filled the quiet room. Her mind flickered—her father’s stern sermons, Cam’s gentle kisses, the polished dining table where this began. Then it all dissolved into white static, erased by the primal reality of her stretched lips and his low groans.
“Fuck, that’s tight,” he breathed. His hips started a deeper rhythm, no longer pretending. He used her mouth. Each thrust was a claiming, sliding over her tongue and bumping the entrance to her throat. She couldn’t breathe. Spit ran down her chin, onto her neck, soaking the front of her dress. Her hands, which had been fluttering nervously, now gripped his muscular thighs for balance, for something to anchor her as he dismantled her.
She was lost. A thing for his use. The thought should have horrified her. Instead, it coiled in her belly, tight and molten.
His breathing grew ragged. The hand in her hair tightened, holding her still as his thrusts became sharper, more urgent. “Gonna come,” he grunted, a warning and a command. “You take it all. Swallow.”
He shoved deep, hilting himself in her choking throat, and held. A hot, pulsing jet hit the back of her mouth. Another. It was bitter, alien. She gagged violently, but he held her locked, his body shuddering as he emptied himself into her.
When he finally pulled out, she collapsed forward onto her hands, coughing, strings of saliva and cum dripping from her lips onto the expensive rug. She drew in ragged, sobbing breaths.
He leaned back in the chair, spent, watching her. “Look at me.”
She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and looked up, her vision blurred.
“Did you swallow?”
She hadn’t, not all of it. Some was still in her mouth, a vile secret. She hesitated, then gave a small, miserable nod before forcing the remainder down. It was an acceptance. A final surrender.
A slow, triumphant smile spread across his face. “Good girl.” He stood, his softening cock glistening, and looked down at her crumpled form. “Get on the bed.”
She moved like a sleepwalker. The black silk sheets were cool and slippery. She lay back, staring at the carved crest on the headboard—a lion, she realized, clutching a spear.
Jax climbed over her, his weight dipping the mattress, caging her in. He didn’t kiss her. His eyes traveled over her body, then hooked his fingers in the neckline of her sundress. With one sharp tug, the fabric tore open to her waist. The sound was brutal in the quiet.
She cried out, more in shock than protest, her hands flying up to cover herself.
He caught her wrists, pinning them above her head with one large hand. “Uh-uh. Let me see what Cam’s been playing with.”
He looked his fill. Her pale skin, flushed pink. The full curves of her breasts, now rising and falling rapidly. The gentle swell of her stomach. His free hand traced a possessive line down her center, over her belly button, to the waistband of her plain cotton panties.
“So small,” he mused, almost to himself. He hooked a finger in the elastic and peeled them down her legs, discarding them over the side of the bed. He spread her knees apart with his own, settling between them. “Jesus. Look at this.”
He was staring at her pussy. The full, unabashed scrutiny made her want to squeeze her legs shut, but he was there, holding her open.
“Cam’s a lucky guy,” Jax said, but his tone was that of a man admiring a nice car he’d just stolen. “Tiny little thing. Pretty.” He ran a single fingertip along her outer lips, and she jerked, a fresh wave of slickness betraying her. He chuckled. “You like that? You like me looking at you here?”
She couldn’t answer. She turned her head to the side, her cheek against the silk, tears leaking from her closed eyes.
“Hey.” His voice softened, a mocking parody of comfort. “Look at me, Nia.”
She turned back. His face was close now, his expression unreadable.
“You took all of me in your mouth,” he said. “This part’s supposed to be fun.” Then he lowered his head.
The first swipe of his tongue was a lightning bolt. It wasn’t like Cam’s hesitant, exploring kisses. This was direct, knowing, and devastatingly skillful. He licked a broad, flat stripe from her entrance to her clit, and her back arched off the bed, a sharp gasp ripped from her throat.
“See?” he muttered against her, his breath hot. His tongue dove inside her, then circled her clit with relentless pressure. He was mapping her, learning what made her hips buck and what made her toes curl. He used his lips, his teeth in gentle nips, the scratch of his stubble on her inner thighs.
The guilt was still there, a shrill, panicked voice. But it was being drowned out by a roaring tide of sensation, each wave higher than the last. He was ruthless, denying her rhythm, building her up and then backing off until she was whimpering, pushing herself against his mouth.
“Please,” she heard herself beg, the word foreign on her lips.
“Please what?” He lifted his head, his chin glistening with her.
“I… don’t stop.”
He gave a low, satisfied laugh. “That’s my girl.” He returned to his work, and this time he didn’t tease. He focused on her clit, sucking it into his mouth, lashing it with his tongue until her whimpers turned into broken cries.
The orgasm, when it hit, wasn’t a gentle peak. It was a seizure. It tore through her like a silent scream, wringing every muscle taut before dissolving her into a boneless, shuddering heap. Stars exploded behind her eyelids. For a long moment, there was nothing—no past, no future, no Cam, no guilt. Just the pulsing aftershocks and the wet heat between her legs.
As she floated back, her chest heaving, she felt him shift. He loomed above her again, his face hovering over hers. He was hard again, his massive erection pressing against her thigh.
“See how good it can be?” he said, his voice husky. He brushed the damp hair from her forehead, a gesture oddly tender after the violation. “That was just my mouth. Imagine what this,” he ground himself against her, “is gonna feel like in that tiny little pussy of yours.”
The reality of it, the sheer physical impossibility, finally struck her with full force. A fresh tear escaped, tracking into her hairline.
He saw it. He kissed it away. “Shhh,” he whispered, his lips at her temple. “It’s gonna hurt. At first. But then… you’ll love it. You’ll beg for it.” He positioned himself at her entrance, the broad head a daunting pressure. “You’re mine now. You know that, right?”