Chapter 146 - 0146: You Need To Learn A Few Things

Chapter 146: Chapter 0146: You Need To Learn A Few Things

Jaxx’s Point Of View

She was a damn drug.

Addictive. Intoxicating. Infuriating.

Every single thing about Elena drove me past the point of sanity. The way her mouth parted when she looked at me with those wide, wrecked eyes. The raw, desperate fire in her expression that proved she couldn’t hide from me anymore, no matter how hard she tried to keep that composed mask in place.

I’d watched her build that mask for months, layer by careful layer, and I’d taken a savage satisfaction in peeling it away piece by piece. The sound of her moans... like a woman drowning in her own heat, needy, broken, completely mine.

Every gasp she gave me felt like a small surrender, another piece of her walls crumbling into dust, another brick pulled from a fortress she’d spent years constructing around herself.

And fuck, did I want her.

Not just in the way a man wants a woman for a quick throwaway night. This was deeper, darker, infinitely more consuming. She was becoming a sickness under my skin, a fever I didn’t want to break, a craving that pounded behind my skull every second I wasn’t inside her.

I’d spent months telling myself I could control this, that I was patient enough to wait her out. I’d been wrong. There was no controlling something that had already taken root in my blood, something that had burrowed so deep I no longer remembered what it felt like to breathe without thinking of her.

And the worst part?

I didn’t even hate it. I craved it. I welcomed the obsession. The way she looked at me... like I was the only man who could tear her apart, the only one who could make her burn, make her beg, make her shatter until there was nothing left of the quiet, obedient little doll she used to pretend to be.

I remembered the first time I saw that mask slip... just a flicker, barely there, and I’d known then that everything beneath it belonged to me. I’d been patient that night too, filing the memory away like a man hoarding gold, waiting for the day I’d finally cash it in.

The way her lips trembled when I spoke to her, like she was starving for every filthy word I fed her. The way her breath hitched whenever my hands bruised her skin... broken, frantic, like I was the only air left in the room.

I catalogued every reaction, every helpless twitch of her body, because I intended to memorize all of it. I intended to own it. Every gasp, every shiver, every flicker of shame that crossed her face... I wanted it all committed to memory, filed away like evidence of the war I was winning.

Holding back from her had been a slow, excruciating torture. Every line of my self-control was frayed down to a single thread.

I’d lain awake more nights than I could count, replaying the sound of her voice, the way she looked at me before she caught herself and looked away, ashamed of wanting something she thought she shouldn’t.

Some nights I’d hated myself for the restraint. Most nights I’d hated her for demanding it of me without even knowing she was doing it.

But I wasn’t going to rush this.

What was the fucking point of rushing when I could draw it out? When I could savor the taste of her, the sound of her crying out my name, the feel of her completely unraveling beneath me?

I wanted to fuck her so deeply, so relentlessly, that the only thing left in her head was my touch, my voice, and the brutal ache I left behind in her body. I wanted her to wake up tomorrow and feel me in every bruise, every sore muscle, every whispered memory of tonight.

I wanted my mark on her to outlast the morning, to outlast the week, to outlast any foolish attempt she might make to forget this had ever happened.

I wanted to ruin her for every other man on this earth.

And fuck, I would.

I stood up, straight and heavy, my mouth still glistening wet with her juices. The sweet, sharp taste of her lingered on my tongue like the finest top-shelf whiskey... rich, slick, dangerously addictive.

I could have stayed on my knees for hours, drowning in her, but some hungers demanded more than a single course.

It had taken every ounce of iron in my blood not to take her months ago. But I needed her to come to me of her own free will. Not just as a weapon to throw in Graham’s face... though the thought of taking what he thought was his made my blood sing, but because she couldn’t fight the pull anymore.

I wanted her to come to me bruised, angry, bleeding from her past, needing revenge... needing me. I’d waited, calculated, watched her fight herself in a war she was always destined to lose. I’d studied her the way a general studies a map, learning every weakness, every fault line, every place she might eventually break.

And now that she was here?

I was never letting her go. She was never leaving this room the same way she walked in.

She turned to face me, her face flushed a dark, feverish pink, her chest heaving as she fought for oxygen. Her lips were swollen, slick and red from my tongue, my teeth, from the way I’d just eaten her out like she was made solely for my consumption.

Her eyes met mine... wide, dark, pupils blown out, filled with a volatile mix of shame, desire, terror, and absolute, unchecked need. She looked like a woman standing at the edge of something she couldn’t name, torn between diving in and running as far as her legs could carry her.

I could see the war raging behind her eyes, and I intended to make sure I was the only side that won.

I smirked, slow, dangerous, completely knowing.

"I did tell you," I murmured, my voice a low, rough purr that scraped across the quiet room. "I told you you’d come to crave me. That you’d stand right in front of me and beg me to fuck this tight, pretty body of yours until you can’t stand up."

Her breath hitched sharply, her bottom lip quivering as she stared up at me. "Wha... what do you mean?" she whispered, her voice barely audible, broken, trembling, like a girl who knew the brutal truth but was too terrified to hear it said aloud.

I tilted my head, stepping closer, my eyes locking onto hers... dark, possessive, unyielding. I could see the exact moment panic and want collided in her expression, neither one strong enough to win outright. It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever watched, that internal collapse, that quiet civil war she was losing in real time.

"You know exactly what I mean, Bambina. You came here knowing what I’d do to you. You left that ring on the counter because you wanted my hands on you instead."

Her cheeks flushed an even deeper crimson, her fingers twitching uselessly at her sides, instinct begging her to touch me while her fear held her anchored. I took the final step, closing the space completely, my broad chest slamming against hers, pinning her against the edge of the mahogany table.

My hips pressed hard into her stomach, letting her feel the rigid, aching length of my cock trapped behind my jeans, heavy and demanding.

She sucked in a breath like she hadn’t expected the full weight of me this close, this insistent, and something flickered across her face that looked almost like relief, as if being cornered was the only place she’d ever truly felt safe.

"And I intend to keep every single promise I ever made you," I growled.

Her breath caught in her throat, her eyes widening as the heat of my body washed over her, the undeniable promise of what I was about to do to her sinking deep into her bones.

I watched her throat work as she swallowed, watched the fight in her eyes flicker and dim, watched the last of her resistance crumble like ash between my fingers.

I reached out, my heavy, calloused fingers brushing against the curve of her cheek before hooking under her chin, tilting her head up sharply. I forced her to look at me, to lock eyes with me, to know exactly who was breaking her down.

"You want this," I growled, my voice a dark, filthy purr against her lips. "You want it so bad it’s making you sick. You want it just as much as I do."

Her lips parted, a soft, ruined sound escaping her throat, but no denial came out. Only silence, and the ragged rhythm of her breathing, answered me.

She couldn’t deny it. Her body was already soaked for me.

I leaned in, my mouth brushing against the shell of her ear, my hot breath fanning across her damp skin as I let the filthiest thoughts in my head spill out.

"You want me to fuck you until you forget his fucking name," I whispered, my hand sliding down from her chin to wrap firmly around her throat.

I didn’t squeeze hard enough to cut off her air, just enough to apply steady, possessive pressure, reminding her of who owned every breath in her chest. "Until the only name you can scream, the only name burned into your head, is mine."

She whimpered, her back arching instinctively into the press of my body, her small hands clawing at the front of my shirt, pulling me closer, needing the friction, craving the control.

I pulled back just an inch to look at her face, my vision darkening with raw, unadulterated lust, with a possessiveness so feral it made my jaw ache.

Something primal in me roared at the sight of her unraveling like this, at the knowledge that I’d caused it, that no other man before me had ever managed to strip her down to something this raw.

"So," I said, my voice dropping into a low, absolute command, a threat and a promise all in one. "On your knees, Bambina."

Her breath hitched. Her muscles locked, her body tensing as the command echoed in the room, but she didn’t move fast enough.

Not yet.

I tightened my grip on her throat, just enough to draw a sharp gasp from her lips, just enough to remind her of where she stood with me. Her pulse fluttered rapidly against my palm, fast, frantic, like a trapped bird beating its wings against an iron cage.

The heat radiating off her skin seared into my palm, her scent... sweet, slick, intoxicating, filling my nose until I could taste her on the back of my throat.

I wanted to bottle this moment, this exact mixture of fear and want warring across her face, to keep it forever as proof of what I could do to her.

"And beg me," I growled, my voice rough, dark, demanding every piece of her pride. "Beg me to fuck your mouth like a good girl."

Her eyes widened, shock and raw, dirty lust warring in their depths. Those gorgeous, defiant eyes that had haunted my sleep for months stared up at me like I’d just shattered her entire world.

Like no man had ever dared to speak to her with such filthy authority. Like no one had ever wanted to break her down so completely.

Good.

She needed to learn right fucking now that I wasn’t some soft boy playing gentle games with her. I was a man who took what belonged to him.

And I wanted her. Badly. So fucking badly my blood felt like boiling acid, my cock ached to the bone, and my control hung by a single, fraying thread. I’d waited long enough. I refused to wait a second longer than necessary.

"I... Jaxx, please," she choked out, her fingers tightening on my shirt. "Don’t make me..."

"Don’t make you what?" I taunted softly, leaning down until my nose brushed hers. "Don’t make you say what you’re already dying for? Look at you. You’re shaking. Your heart is hammering against my hand. You want to kneel for me, Elena. You’ve wanted it since the moment you walked into this room."

I slid my hand down from her throat, my fingers tracing slow, deliberate patterns down her spine, watching her body react, watching her skin pebble into goosebumps under my touch.

She shivered violently, her spine curving, her hips unconsciously pressing back against my thigh, seeking more, needing everything I had to give.

Every small, involuntary movement she made only fed the hunger clawing through me, sharpening it into something almost unbearable.

I brought my hand back up, dipping two fingers into the wetness gleaming on her inner thighs, coating them in her slick before bringing them up to her face. I pressed my wet index finger between her swollen lips, parting them slowly, keeping my eyes locked dead on hers.

The wet slide of her tongue against my skin as she swallowed my finger was obscene, filthy, a silent submission that made my gut twist with absolute victory.

I felt that small act settle into my chest like a claim staked and won, a quiet surrender more intoxicating than anything she could have said aloud.

"If you want me to pleasure you, Princess..." I murmured, my voice a low, dark purr, my wet finger hovering just an inch from her mouth, glistening in the dim light, taunting her.

I paused, staring into her wide, helpless eyes, letting the heavy weight of the silence stretch between us, letting her feel the absolute finality of what came next.

"Then you need to learn a few things about who you belong to now."