Page 95 of Shadowed Sins: Nitro

"If he sees you like this—bent over, taking me—" His voice goes dark, possessive. "I'd have to kill him. Anyone who sees you like this dies."

The crude protectiveness shouldn't affect me, but my body responds involuntarily, tightening around him. I remain silent.

"Hey!" A voice calls from the boardwalk. "Think I saw someone down by the south end!"

The guard's footsteps pause, then head away from us. But Jax doesn't stop. If anything, he fucks me harder, his free hand reaching around to find my clit.

"That's it," he growls. "Come for me. Right now, while they could still catch us."

His fingers circle my clit with perfect pressure, his cock hitting that spot inside that makes me see stars, his hand on my throat just tight enough to make everything intense.

"Mine." The word is a command in my ear. "Say it."

The orgasm crashes through me as the word tears from my throat. "Yours."

I come so hard my knees buckle, only his grip keeping me upright. My pussy clenches around him in waves, pulling him deeper. He follows seconds later, groaning into my neck as he fills me, his cock pulsing inside me.

For a moment, we stay frozen together, both panting in the darkness. Then reality crashes back like the waves against the pier.

"Fuck." I straighten on unsteady legs, his cum running down my thighs. "I didn't mean—I'm not yours—that was just—"

"Liar." He turns me to face him, and his expression is pure possession. "You've been mine since that first night in the garage. Since you analyzed my entire operation while eye-fucking me."

Voices above us again. Multiple people now, laughing about something. A bottle breaks. Too close.

"We need to go." I try to smooth my ruined dress, acutely aware that I look thoroughly fucked. Because I have been. "Now."

"Yeah." But he doesn't move, just watches me with those dangerous eyes.

Footsteps on the stairs again. Multiple sets. The sound of a radio crackling.

"Shit." Jax grabs my hand. "Run."

We sprint across the sand, laughing like maniacs as flashlight beams sweep behind us. My heels sink into the beach, his dress shoes sliding on the loose slope. We're a disaster—clothes ruined, hair wrecked, that post-fuck glow that everyone will see.

We burst onto the boardwalk just as security rounds the corner behind us. Jax pulls me into the crowd of teenagers, both of us breathless and giddy with adrenaline.

"Act normal," he whispers in my ear, even though nothing about us looks normal.

"I don't know how to act normal." The admission makes me laugh harder, slightly hysterical.

"Me neither." He pulls me closer, and his body's responding again. "Fuck, we need to get back to the car."

We weave through the crowd, still holding hands. People definitely stare—at our ruined gala clothes, our tangled hair, the way we can't stop touching each other, the obvious just-fucked energy radiating off us.

The Audi chirps as he unlocks it. We fall into our seats, both catching our breath. The windows immediately start fogging from our body heat, the confined space making everything more intense.

"We look like we fucked under a pier," I say, catching our reflection in the rearview mirror. Wrecked. My lipstick smeared across his mouth, his fingerprints bruising on my throat.

"We did fuck under a pier." He reaches over, thumb tracing the marks he left. "Right after I had to watch you in that dress all night, pretending I didn't know exactly what you taste like."

"The team's going to have questions about why we disappeared—"

"Let them." His voice goes possessive. "Let them see you're mine."

"I'm not—" The protest dies as he leans across the console, kissing me slow and claiming.

When we separate, I'm shaking again. Not from fear this time. From what I said when I came. From what it means.