Chapter 182 This Pussy Has Been Starving
I showed up twenty minutes early, legs already shaking as I walked down the hallway toward the private training room. My heart was pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat, in my clit, everywhere. Last night I’d barely slept. I’d tried—curled up next to Mark’s snoring back—but every time I closed my eyes I saw Jax’s mouth on me, his fingers twisting inside, that filthy praise in my ear. I’d ended up in the guest bathroom at 2 a.m., legs spread on the counter, fucking myself with three fingers while I bit my lip bloody to stay quiet. It hadn’t been enough. Nothing was enough anymore.
I pushed the door open without knocking. Jax was already there, wiping down the weight bench with a towel, his back to me. The room smelled like him—sweat and that woodsy cologne that made my knees weak. He turned when he heard the door click shut. His eyes went wide for half a second, then dark. Hungry.
I didn’t say a word.
I just dropped my gym bag, hooked my thumbs in the waistband of my shorts, and shoved them down along with my panties in one motion. The sports bra came off next. My tits bounced free, nipples already tight and aching. I kicked everything aside, walked straight to the padded weight bench, and lay back on it. The vinyl was cool against my bare skin. I spread my legs wide—knees bent, feet planted on the edges—and let my thighs fall open. My pussy was already glistening, lips swollen and slick from the drive over, from the way I’d been clenching the whole way here just thinking about this.
Jax’s towel hit the floor. “Fuck, Lara.”
His voice was wrecked. He crossed the room in two strides and dropped to his knees between my spread thighs like he couldn’t wait another second. No teasing this time. He grabbed my ass with both hands, yanked me to the edge of the bench, and buried his face in my cunt.
I cried out the second his tongue hit me. Hot, flat, dragging from my entrance all the way up to my clit in one long, greedy lick. He groaned into me, the vibration shooting straight through my body. Then he sucked my clit into his mouth—hard—and my hips bucked off the bench. He ate me like a man who’d been starving for days. Long, messy strokes of his tongue, dipping inside me, then back to my clit, flicking it fast and relentless. His stubble scraped the sensitive skin of my inner thighs, adding that sharp little bite that made everything feel dirtier.
I grabbed his hair, holding him there, grinding against his face. “Jax—oh God—”
He pulled back just enough to look up at me, lips shiny with my slick, eyes wild. “This pussy’s been starving,” he growled, voice thick. “Husband’s been neglecting what it needs. Look at you—dripping all over my bench before I even touched you.”
Then he was back on me, two thick fingers sliding deep without warning, curling hard against my G-spot while his mouth worked my clit. I came fast—too fast—back arching, a sharp cry ripping out of me as my walls clamped down around his fingers and my clit pulsed against his tongue. He didn’t stop. He licked me through it, slower now, gentler, like he was savoring every twitch and flutter.
When I finally stopped shaking, he stood up.
I watched him shove his shorts down, and my mouth went dry.
His cock sprang free—thick, heavy, the shaft curving slightly upward, veins standing out dark and ropey along the length. It was easily eight inches, maybe more, the head fat and flushed deep red, already leaking a thick bead of precum that dripped down the underside. The whole thing looked obscene, angry, perfect. It bobbed once when he wrapped his fist around the base and gave it a slow stroke, spreading the wetness over the head.