Page 55 of A Little Crush (The Little Things #6)

RORY

K eeping our extra-curricular activities under wraps has been pretty easy, all things considered.

That is, until we step outside of his penthouse and into the real world.

Add in being surrounded by the entire Lions roster for today’s flight without random strangers acting as a buffer, and I can barely look anyone in the eye.

I swear I can still feel him inside of me, despite us having slept together three other times. And yes, I’ve been counting.

After one too many meltdowns on flights, my dad let the team borrow his private plane since it has a bedroom suite where Poppy can nap without being bothered.

Not that she doesn’t sleep like a rock, anyway, but Jax appreciated the gesture.

I, on the other hand, feel like a thief on the run.

Can Reeves or Griffin or Everett tell I’m sleeping with their friend slash coach?

Have they figured out that I gave him my virginity and really, really like sex now that I know what all the fuss is about?

Act. Normal , I remind myself. It’s not like it’s that new.

It’s been three days. Three blissful days of sleepovers and sex and playing house and basically living out every fantasy I’ve ever had without a single person knowing except me and Jaxon.

Okay, Poppy knows, too, but I think she can keep a secret.

Speaking of which, I’m almost disappointed that she’s curled up in the bedroom while the rest of the team is in the main area, each in our respective seats.

If she was here, I could distract myself, but I guess my phone will have to do.

As I browse social media while attempting to not look like a crazed stalker with all the glances I keep stealing at a certain coach chatting with his brother, a throat clears, so I look up.

“Hey.” Eric lifts his chin toward the empty seat beside mine. “Mind if I…?”

“Yeah, of course.” I move my carry-on to the floor, nearly taking out my pinky toe in the process.

He’s been dealing with family stuff for the last couple weeks, and I’m not the only one who’s noticed his absence.

Truth be told, there’ve been one or two nail-biters during the last few games, and I have a feeling it has to do with a certain someone missing from the bench.

As Eric collapses into the seat, he asks, “So, how’ve you been?”

“Pretty sure I should be asking you that question.” I place my hand on his forearm, feeling guilty for not having checked in before. I wanted to, but I didn’t know what to say. Didn’t want him to feel obligated to respond while dealing with everything else. “I heard about your mom. I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right.”

It isn’t, but I get it. The need to cover with nonchalance when reality hits too close to home. “How is she?” I ask.

“Good.” He smiles, and when I realize it’s genuine, a relieved sigh slips out of me. “They caught it early, so the doctors are hopeful it’ll be smooth sailing…other than the chemo.” He grimaces. “Yeah, that part’s a bitch. ”

“I believe it. That’s gotta be rough.”

“Yeah, but my mom likes to tell me it’s harder for me than it is for her. I think she’s full of shit,” he clarifies, “but she’s handling it like a champ.”

“I’m glad she has you.”

“Yeah, me, too.” That same boyish smile plays at the edge of his lips. “She’s the best.”

“Seems like it’s genetic, then,” I reply, unsure what else there is to say.

Actually, scratch that. There isn’t anything to say.

Period. It’s like when I lost Arch. Sometimes things are just…

shitty. If I’ve learned anything from my own experience, it’s that silence can be more genuine than false promises, like, “I’m sure she’ll get better soon,” or something like that.

Instead, I give him a reassuring smile of my own.

“Well, it’s good to see you. I’m sure the team is glad you’re back. ”

“Yeah.” He sighs. “Listen, I want to apologize for ghosting you after the banquet.”

“You didn’t?—”

“I kind of did,” he argues. “I was trying to stay focused on the home opener, then I got the call the morning after, and…yeah.”

I wave him off. “No worries at all. Pretty sure I’d be a terrible person for holding it against you. So, seriously, you’re good. Your focus is where it should be.”

“Still.” He nudges my shoulder with his. “What do you say I make it up to you after tomorrow’s game?”

“Uh. Sure?” My focus slides to Jax for the barest of seconds, despite my best attempt to keep my impulse in check. “I guess it kind of depends on when you’re thinking, but...”

My attention flicks to Jax again before I can stop it. He isn’t talking to Griffin anymore. Nope. He’s watching me. And thanks to the intensity gleaming in his dark eyes, I grip the edge of the armrest, attempting not to squirm.

Catching on, Eric mutters, “Shit, I didn’t even think about you being on the clock, so if your boss says it’s?—”

“She can’t,” Jaxon announces. He strides closer and plops down in the seat across from us.

“Oh?” Eric frowns.

“I need her to watch Poppy.” Jaxon doesn’t bother giving either of us any more of his attention as he pulls out his phone. One of the benefits of flying private with the team is free WiFi, and it seems Jaxon has no issue multitasking despite how rude it makes him look.

Why is he acting so…cold?

“Sorry,” he adds. His focus shifts from Crowther to me, then back to his phone like he has better things to do than worry about a girl he’s sleeping with making plans with another man.

“Maybe next week, then?” Crowther offers. “You know, when Poppy’s with her mom? I’d love to show you the pizza place we talked about?—”

My phone buzzes, interrupting him. Well, that’s not true. I’m pretty sure he’s still talking, but I don’t hear a word. Not really. I’m too confused by the random text from a certain someone who’s playing with his phone in the seat across from me.

Jaxon

I need to fuck you.

What the hell?

I peek up at Jax, but he isn’t looking at me. He’s looking at his stupid phone.

Jaxon

Get up and walk to the bathroom. Now .

Walk to the bathroom? Why?

Before I can type my response, my phone buzzes again.

Jaxon

Get. Up.

“There a problem, Squeaks?” he asks, sounding bored and simultaneously interrupting Eric, though I’d almost forgotten he’s here.

“N-no problem,” I answer.

“You sure?” Eric prods. “You look tense.”

Tense? More like intrigued and confused.

“I, uh, I need to use the restroom. I think I’m having some motion sickness issues.” I press my hand to my flushed cheeks. “I’ll, uh, I’ll talk to you later, Eric.”

“See you, Rory.”

I stand, keeping my pace steady as I head toward the onboard suite where the private bathroom is located.

I want to look behind me. To see if he’s following.

But I don’t. Instead, I keep my head held high and my hands loose at my sides like I don’t have a care in the world despite Jaxon’s text message flashing through my mind like a neon sign.

I need to fuck you.

Stepping inside, I tiptoe past a sleeping Poppy and go to close the bathroom door when it’s slapped open.

My squeal of surprise catches in my throat before Jax holds his hand against my mouth, silencing me.

With his opposite hand on my waist, he twists me around, pushing my spine against the door until every inch of me is caged in.

“Do you have any idea how jealous I am right now, Beautiful?” he growls. “Seeing him ask you out right in front of me?” He bends forward, crowding me and stealing my space as he breathes me in. “Fuck, I wanna kill him.”

“You shouldn’t have texted me,” I whisper .

“And you shouldn’t have gotten all flushed and turned on,” he argues.

“Well, you’ll have to forgive me for getting a little hot and bothered when the guy I’m sleeping with sends me a text saying he wants to fuck me.”

His hand locks on my waist, and he grinds against me. “Turn around.”

“What?”

He hikes up my sundress and cups my pussy through my soaked underwear before tearing them down my thighs. Once I’m bare from the waist down, he repeats. “Turn. Around.”

My breath hitches as I twist in the small space.

He kicks out my feet, nudging them further apart like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

Is he serious? Is he really doing this? Are we really doing this?

I peek over my shoulder at him as his hand finds my shoulder, and he folds me in half.

The familiar zip of pants echoes through our staggered breathing before the head of his cock nudges against my entrance.

“Put your hand on the mirror,” he orders.

As soon as I do, he thrusts into me, and I jolt forward, grateful for the leverage or else I would’ve hit my head on the glass.

A familiar burn takes my breath away as I stretch around him. Yup. There it is. Staying fully seated inside me, he nibbles the side of my neck, scraping his teeth against the sensitive flesh as he lets me adjust to him.

“This is mine,” he growls.

“Jax.”

“You are mine,” he grits out.

“Yes.” It’s nothing but a whimper but is the most true statement I’ve ever made. Of course, I’m his. I’ve always been his. And the fact that he’s finally owning me the way I’ve always craved is just the cherry on top of a supremely decadent sundae .

Sensing I’m ready for more, he pulls out, then pushes in again, keeping his pace slow but hard until my fingertips turn white against the mirror.

This. This is what I crave. The glimpse of desperation.

The need that somehow seems to match my own whenever we’re together.

He’s so good at hiding it. At keeping it locked tight.

Until moments like this. When it’s only me and him.

“Faster,” I beg. “Harder.”

He wraps his arm around me and plays with my clit, his fingers dipping a little lower to where we connect.

“You feel so fucking good, Beautiful,” he rasps. “So fucking good.”

“Keep going,” I moan.

I thrash against him as he pushes me higher and higher with every drag of his cock and brush of his fingers.

“Stay quiet,” he orders. “Not one fucking sound.”

His hand finds my mouth, keeping my moaning in check until sparks erupt and I see stars. My teeth dig into his flesh as I fall apart, coming around him, my body turning to stone before melting into a mess as he jerks inside of me.

Holy shit. Having sex on a plane was the last thing I expected when I boarded this flight.

And in my dad’s freaking private bathroom?

If he ever finds out, he’s going to kill me.

It doesn’t matter how accepting and awesome and open-minded he is as a father.

There are some lines that should never be crossed and this is one of them.

But also…wow. I’ve never had a quickie before.

Jaxon likes to take his time and leave me begging.

But this? This is one for the books. That much, I know.

Slowly, he removes his hand from my mouth, and I lean against the basin, trying to catch my breath while also attempting to wrap my head around the situation.

Did we really just do that? As his softening cock slips out of me, cum follows, and my gaze snaps to his in the mirror because, uh, that’s new.

“You came inside me,” I murmur.

Shit.

We didn’t use a condom.

How did we not use a condom?

“Fuck,” he mutters. “I came inside you.”

“That’s what I just said!” I whisper-shout, trying not to panic. “You weren’t supposed to do that.”

“Yeah, no shit,” he returns, but there’s a lightness in his tone, softening his words as he looks down, watching his cum drip down my thigh.

“Fuck, why is that hot?” Scrubbing his hand over his face, he reaches for the paper towels, wets them in the sink, and cleans me up, being extra gentle as I hiss through my teeth.

“Did I hurt you?” he asks.

Yes. But it’s a good hurt. Like sore muscles after a solid workout or something.

Licking my lips, I reply, “I wanted harder. You gave me harder.”

With a low chuckle, he leans down and brushes his fingers against my cheek. “I’m sorry I lost control.”

“Don’t be,” I argue as my mind replays exactly what we just did. In an airplane restroom. With his team a few feet away. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from grinning as my face’s temperature rises. “That was…hot.”

“Shouldn’t have come inside you. Not without your permission. I’m sorry.”

“I already told you that you could,” I return, referring to the night he took my virginity.

He tosses the used paper towel into the small garbage can, then twists me to face him. “Still.” He pecks at my lips. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. I promise. ”

Squeezing my thighs together, I admit, “And what if I want it to?”

His brows dip. “You sure?”

I nod.

With a smirk, he entwines our fingers together and kisses my knuckles. “Then I’ll make sure it happens again…on one condition.”

“And what condition is that?”

“You tell Crowther you’re not interested.”

My mouth curves up. “He already knows we’re just friends. I told him when he dropped me off after the banquet.”

Jaxon’s gaze narrows. “Are you shitting me?”

“Nope.” I kiss him again. “But I really like jealous Jaxon. He can stop by anytime. And I mean any time.”

With a resounding smack, Jaxon’s palm slaps against my ass, and I yelp in surprise before bursting out laughing.

Yup. I like jealous Jaxon a lot.