Page 94 of Burn of Obsidian

“It’s the only scar that survived the ritual that bonded me to my beast.”

“Thunder,” she said, her smile wonky in her inebriated state.

His fingers lingered on the skin of her cheek. He didn’t like what she did to him, with that smile. His entire body responded, muscles seizing and lungs struggling to draw a single breath. The power she had to bring him to his knees was inconvenient. They’d travelled across the ocean to find a document that could help stop Gideon, and yet all he thought about was her.

“Everything else I can heal. It’s part of the curse.”

A wrinkle appeared between her brows, and he wanted to rub all her worries away.

“A caveat to the beast,” he continued. “Except now the curse is broken, and I’m no longer at risk of eternity down in Hell.”

“Because of our mating?”

Jax swallowed, memorising every slope and angle of her face. “Yes, because of our mating.” If she chose to accept it, not that he would say that aloud. Their joining had been forced, so he’d do anything for her to choose him because she wanted to, and not because of guilt. He may not believe in the Fates, but he sure as hell believed Thea was always supposed to be his.

Her lips opened on a soft exhale, eyes sparkling as she slipped off the table to straddle his lap, her thighs parting over his hips.

“Watch your stitches,” he said, Thunder rumbling to the surface.

MINE, his beast growled, the mating bond strengthening until it felt like a constant thread of tension. It seemed she was relaxing the reins, likely subconsciously due to the alcohol.

“Hi Thunder,” she whispered, rocking forward to get a closer look at his irises. “Who’s a pretty boy?”

Jax smirked. He’d felt them shift to silver, but it was definitely him in control. “Not Thunder. Just me.”

His cock responded, hardening beneath his jeans as she moved against him. Thea must have noticed, as her smile turned sly as she rocked against him once more.

“So, you do smile,” she whispered, continuing to torture him with her body.

His cock ached, confined in the fabric. “Only for you.”

She stilled, eyes glistening before she reached for his zipper. He caught her before she could, one hand trapping both her wrists.

“Thea,” he warned when she tried to free herself, but he only held them tighter.

“You’re drunk.” He clenched his teeth when her body rolled against his, the fabric of her leggings much more giving than his jeans.

Fuck.

“Not enough to not know what I want,” she moaned, her back arching. “Please.”

The plea fell from her lips, and his cock twitched as if he’d been personally called. Jax knew he was fucked, because he was pretty sure he’d do anything for her, especially if she begged.

“Thea…” His resistance was weakening, her breathing coming in little pants as she worked herself against his constricted cock. Colour grazed her cheekbones and the tip of her nose. Her once warm brown eyes were obscured by black.

With barely restrained control, he jerked his hips up, forcing a whimper from her throat before he caught the sound with his lips. The need to consume her cries was an almost primal urge. Her breasts crushed against him, her tongue darting in as if she held any control on how this was going to go. She kissed him like it was a victory, her taste a mixture of whisky and something unique that was just her.

Before Thea, he’d rarely kissed anyone, not seeing the pleasure. The women he’d fucked before were nothing but a release.

But with Thea, he wanted everything.

Every kiss. Every touch. Every fucking orgasm.

She was his, and he was going to remind her of that.

“That’s it, my little thief; use me to come.” He rocked against her core, listening to the little whimpers as she used him for her pleasure. She grinded against him, the scent of her arousal a perfume he wanted to drown in.

Heat flooded his veins, her wrists still trapped in his grip. His hands ached to touch every inch, but he knew as soon as she was free, his remaining control would snap. He’d have her flat on the back on the table, legs spread so he could feast until she came against his tongue. Except three glasses of whiskey for her was the same as five to six for someone else. And he wanted her to remember every fucking second.