Chapter 216 - 0216: I’ve Missed You (r18+)

Chapter 216: Chapter 0216: I’ve Missed You (r18+)

Jaxx’s Point Of View

The remote hit the floor with a dull thud, forgotten the second it left my hand. I didn’t give a fuck where it landed. My fingers were already working at the buttons of my shirt, yanking it open, the fabric tearing away from my skin, my chest heaving as I let it slide down my arms and pool at my feet.

I’d spent three weeks buttoned up in boardrooms, measuring every word, calculating every move, and now I couldn’t stand the feel of anything between us. Three weeks of careful composure, unraveling in the space of a heartbeat.

The air in the room was thick with the scent of her, and it was driving me fucking feral. I could see the way her skin prickled, the way her breath hitched as she heard the fabric whisper against the floor. Three weeks of distance collapsed into this single moment, and I felt the full weight of everything I’d been holding back... every unanswered call I’d talked myself out of making, every night I’d lain awake in some sterile hotel room aching for her, every argument

I’d rehearsed in my head about why staying away was the right thing to do. All of it crumbled now, useless against the simple fact of her standing in front of me.

She knew what was coming. And fuck, so did I.

"Jaxx?" she whispered, her voice small, trembling, her fingers still white-knuckled on the back of the couch. "What are you doing?"

"What does it feel like I’m doing?" I said, reaching for her, my hands shaking. Me, shaking, because the sight of her like this, bent over the couch, her ass on display, her thighs trembling, had me unraveling. I’d imagined this a thousand times in those empty hotel rooms, but nothing compared to the reality of her.

No fantasy had ever come close to the warmth radiating off her skin, the way she smelled like home even after everything that had kept us apart. I’d told myself I was strong enough to wait, patient enough to do this right. Standing here now, I understood how foolish that had been.

"Tell me," she breathed. "I want to hear you say it."

"You want words now?" A dark laugh scraped out of my throat. "Fine. I’m going to take these panties off you. Then I’m going to taste what’s mine. Then I’m going to fuck you until the only name you remember is mine. That enough words for you, Bambina?"

She made a sound into the cushion, half moan, half something like surrender, and the sound alone nearly undid me.

My fingers hooked into the lace of her panties, dragging them slowly to the side, exposing her... dripping, swollen, her folds glistening under the dim light. The vibrator was still nestled against her, buzzing faintly, and I groaned as I pulled it away, the slick sound of it sliding free making my cock throb painfully against my zipper.

I didn’t turn it off.

I let it hum in my palm for a second, watching as her body jerked, her hips rolling, chasing the sensation even as I took it from her. There was something intoxicating about holding that small piece of her pleasure in my hand, knowing I controlled whether she got release or ached for it. I wanted her aching. I wanted her to feel exactly what I’d felt for three endless weeks... the hunger, the restlessness, the maddening need for something just out of reach.

"Such a greedy girl," I murmured, my thumb brushing over her clit, feeling how sensitive she was, how desperate. She whimpered, her moans filling the room as I dragged the vibrator through her folds one last time, coating it in her wetness before setting it on the table with a hand that wasn’t quite steady.

Then I tore her panties from her body.

The sound of fabric ripping was obscene, and she shivered, her breath hitching as the cool air met her bare, dripping pussy. "Jaxx... those were..."

"I’ll buy you ten more," I growled. "A hundred. I’ll buy you a whole fucking drawer of them just so I can ruin every pair."

I brought the scrap of lace to my nose, inhaling deeply, groaning at the scent of her... sweet, musky, all mine. My tongue darted out, tasting the fabric, tasting her, and my cock throbbed painfully against my zipper, leaking, aching for her. I was past reason now, past every careful thought I’d rehearsed on the flight home. There was only her, only this, only the frantic drumbeat of my own pulse in my ears, drowning out whatever remained of my self-control.

"Fuck, Bambina," I said, my control slipping as I took her in... the way her thighs trembled, the way her folds pulsed, the way her body ached for me. "Look at you. Look at how fucking perfect you are for me. Three weeks of empty beds and closed doors, and you’re still this perfect."

"Please," she whispered. "Please stop talking and..."

"And what?" I dragged two fingers through her folds, slow, deliberate, watching her whole body jolt. "Say it. Finish the sentence, Elena. I want to hear you ask for it."

"I..." Her voice cracked, her hips pushing back against my hand, shameless now, past pride, past anything. "I need you. Please. I need you inside me. I’ve needed it for three weeks and I hate you for making me wait and I hate you for being right, and just... please, Jaxx."

I groaned, long and low, my forehead dropping against her spine for a second, steadying myself against the storm she’d unleashed in my chest. Her skin was damp, warm, and I felt her pulse jump beneath my lips. For a moment I just breathed her in, letting myself feel the full weight of having her here, real and trembling beneath my hands instead of a memory I replayed in the dark. "Say that last part again."

"Please, Jaxx?"

"The other part."

"I hate that you’re right," she whispered, and there was a tremor in it that told me how much that admission cost her.

"That’s my girl," I said, and slid two fingers inside her, slowly, deeply, feeling the way her walls clenched around me, the way her body milked me, begging for more. I worked her slow, curling them, dragging out every gasp, and she was sobbing by the time I pulled free, her thighs shaking so hard she could barely hold herself up.

"You’re soaked," I said, my fingers teasing her entrance, feeling how hot she was, how tight. "So fucking ready for me. You’ve been ready since the phone call, haven’t you? Since I counted you down in front of him."

"Yes," she admitted, wrecked. "Yes, God, yes."

I couldn’t take it anymore.

My zipper was down in a second, my pants and briefs shoved just enough to free my cock, already hard, already weeping for her. The tip was slick with precome, and I groaned as I dragged it through her folds, coating myself in her, feeling how ready she was, how desperate. She pushed back the second she felt me against her, and I had to fist her hip to hold her still, my restraint hanging by a single thread, fraying with every small sound she made.

"Patience," I growled.

"I’ve been patient for three weeks..."

"I know," I said, and there was something raw in my voice that I didn’t bother hiding. "So have I. Every night, Bambina. Do you think it was easy for me? Being away, knowing you were back in this city, knowing some man would eventually look at you the way Daniel looked at you tonight? I’ve been out of my mind."

"You could have called," she gasped, her body trembling under my hands, trying to be still, failing.

"And hear your voice? No. I’d have been on the first flight home and the job would have fallen apart. It was easier to suffer in silence." Easier, maybe, but it hadn’t felt that way at three in the morning, staring at her name in my phone, my thumb hovering over the call button I never pressed. Easier was a lie I’d told myself so many times I’d almost believed it.

"You’re such a..." She broke off with a cry as I pressed the head of my cock against her entrance, just enough to make her feel it, just enough to make her mind blank out.

"Say it," I demanded, my grip on her hips bruising. "You feel that? You feel how fucking hard you make me? Three weeks of wanting you, right there. Say it, Elena. Tell me what you want. No more lying, not tonight."

"You," she sobbed. "You, I want you, Jaxx, please..."

And for one second, I paused, just to feel her, just to memorize this moment, the way her body trembled, the way her breath hitched, the way she needed me as much as I needed her. I wanted to hold onto it, this fragile instant before everything shattered into need, because some part of me understood how rare it was for either of us to be this unguarded. I’d built a life on control, on never letting anyone see the cracks, and here she was, undoing me with nothing but her voice. I thought, absurdly, that I could die happy right here, suspended in this single breath before everything changed.

Then I slammed home.

"Jaxx!" she cried out, her voice breaking, her body clenching around me, so fucking tight, so fucking hot that I saw stars. I groaned, my head falling back, my grip on her hips tightening as I bottomed out, my cock pulsing inside her, my body shuddering with the effort of not losing control.

"Fuck, Bambina," I groaned, my forehead pressing against her back as I fought to breathe. "You feel incredible." I pulled out slowly, savoring the way her body clung to me, the way her walls milked me, before slamming back in, harder this time, deeper, chasing something that felt less like pleasure and more like coming home.

"God," she gasped, her fingers clawing at the leather, her back arching under me. "I forgot... I forgot how..."

"I know," I said, and it came out smug and reverent at the same time. "So did I. Three weeks and I forgot what you feel like, and now I remember I’ve been starving."

I’ve missed this, I thought, my thrusts becoming relentless, possessive. Not just the feeling of her, though fuck, she felt like heaven, but this. Her. The way she trusted me, the way she let me worship her like this. It struck me then how rare it was, this surrender, and how little I deserved it after everything I’d put her through.

I thought of all the nights I’d convinced myself distance was protection, and I hated how wrong I’d been. I thought of every excuse I’d made, every wall I’d built between us in the name of keeping her safe, and none of it seemed to matter now, not with her shaking apart beneath me.

Every thrust was a promise.

Every groan was a vow.

"You’re mine," I said, my hips snapping against her, my cock burying itself inside her over and over, my fingers digging into her skin. "Say it. Say you’re mine, Elena."

"Yours," she gasped, her voice trembling, her body trembling, her pussy clenching around me like she never wanted to let go. "I’m yours..."

"Not Daniel’s," I demanded, driving deeper, needing to hear it, needing it like air. "Not anyone’s. Say it."

"Yours," she cried, louder now, her hips meeting mine, matching my rhythm like we’d never spent a day apart. "Only yours, Jaxx, I swear... only ever yours..."

"And I’m yours," I said, and the words tore out of me before I could think about them, before I could cage them. "Ten years, Bambina. You’ve had me for more than ten years."

Her breath caught. Even mid-gasp, even wrung out and trembling, I felt her hear it. Her hand came back and gripped my wrist, fingers digging in, holding on, as though she needed proof I wouldn’t vanish the second the words left my mouth. Maybe she did. Maybe after everything, proof was the only thing either of us still trusted.

Ten years of almosts and near-misses, of timing that never aligned, of choices that kept us circling each other instead of finally landing somewhere real.

"Jaxx," she whispered, and it wasn’t a plea anymore. It was something softer. Something terrified.

"Shh," I said, my thrusts slowing just enough to feel her, to worship her, to drown in her. Not just the lust, not just the need, but her. The way she fit against me, the way she trusted me, the way she gave herself to me. Her breath, her skin, the small broken sounds she made with her face pressed into my couch cushions, my name in her mouth like a prayer. "I know. I know."

Her hips rolled back to meet me, slow and deep now, neither of us chasing the edge anymore, just this. Just us. Just the two of us in the dark, breathing each other, as if the years of distance and silence had finally dissolved into something we could both hold. I pressed my palm flat against her stomach, feeling the frantic rise and fall of her breathing, and thought I might never let go of her again.

Whatever came after tonight, whatever mess we’d have to untangle in the morning light, I knew I couldn’t go back to the silence. Not now. Not after this.

"I’ve missed this," I groaned, my voice breaking.

And then, quieter, honest in a way I’d never allowed myself to be with anyone, I pressed my mouth to her shoulder and said the words that had haunted me for three weeks, maybe for ten years.

"I’ve missed you."