Chapter 5

~Ava~

I went to my room but I could still feel it. I still had my skirt twisted around my waist, thighs sticky, brain screaming. I sat on the room chair like a broken doll for a solid ten minutes just breathing through my mouth because if I moved I was gonna do something stupid.

Like touching myself.

Which he literally forbade me from doing.

I hated him so much I wanted to cry,I wanted to rub my clit until I saw stars and then mail him the wet panties with a thank-you note written in blood.

Instead I just sat there clenching my fists so hard my nails left crescents in my palms.

I heard footsteps.

Fuck.

I yanked my skirt down, sprinted to the couch in my room, grabbed the remote like I’d been binge-watching some stuff and not getting foot-teased into oblivion by a married professor twice my age.

Jax just walked in without walking.

“Will you learn to knock?”

“You still look like shit,” he said.

“Love you too.”

He walked over, dropped next to me on the couch. Close. He smelled so sweet. 

He stared at me. “Why are you shaking?.”

I hadn’t noticed. My knees were literally knocking together.

“I’m cold,” I lied.

“Bullshit.” He reached over, put two fingers under my chin, tipped my face up. “What’s up with you?”

I slapped his hand away. 

“I'm in the mood okay.” 

Jax blinked twice. Then he started laughing. Not nice laughing. The kind where you’re actually furious but your body picks violence.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Ava.”

“I know!”

He dragged both hands through his hair. “Do you need help?.”

“Yeah, well…? Not from you though.”

Silence stretched. 

I shifted, squeezed my thighs together. Still so wet it was embarrassing. The ache was a living thing now, clawing at me.

Jax noticed. Of course he fucking noticed.

“You’re killing me,” I muttered.

He tilted his head. “Sure you don't need help with that?”

My head snapped around so fast I almost got whiplash. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” His voice was rough, low. “You’re sitting there about to cry from how bad you need to cum. I’m right here.”

“We hate each other and we're…you know….,” I reminded him. And myself.

“Exactly,” he said, like that solved everything. “Hate-cum is still cum. Nobody has to like it, plus I'm not your brother don't do that.”

I opened my mouth to tell him to fuck off, but all that came out was this pathetic little whimper when I shifted again and the seam of my panties rubbed my clit exactly wrong.

Jax’s eyes dropped to my lap. “Say no and I’ll go to my room. Say nothing and I’ll pretend I didn’t just watch you dry-hump the couch cushion.”

“I hate you,” I whispered.

“Yeah,” he whispered back. “Keep telling yourself that.”

Another beat.

I didn’t say no.

He moved fast. One second he was beside me, next second he had me pinned to the couch, mouth crashing into mine like he’d been starving for it. I kissed him back just as hard, biting his lip until I felt it swollen. He groaned into my mouth and I felt it between my legs like a pulse.

“Fucking brat,” he growled against my lips.

“Fucking asshole,” I snarled, yanking his hair.

He shoved my skirt up to my waist, fingers hooking in my panties. “These are ruined.”

“Then take them off, genius.”

He ripped them. Literally ripped them. I heard the lace tear and I swear I got wetter.

Cold air hit me and I bucked. He shoved two fingers inside without warning and I yelled into his shoulder.

“Jesus you’re so soaked,” he muttered, pumping slowly, curling just right. “This from the professor or from me kissing you?”

“Shut up,” I gasped, riding his hand already. Both. I don’t know. “Don’t stop.”

He didn’t. He added a third finger, stretched me, thumb on my clit doing circles that made my vision spark.

I was babbling within thirty seconds. “Please, please, Jax, fuck….”

“Say it right.”

“I hate you, please make me cum, I hate you so much….”

He laughed, dark and filthy, and crooked his fingers hard. I came with my back arched off the couch, his name and a string of curse words ripping out of me.

I barely finished shaking when he pulled his fingers out and I whined at the loss.

Then he dropped to his knees, yanked my hips to the edge of the couch, and put his mouth on me.

I saw God.

Or the devil.

I don't know the exact difference.

He didn’t tease. He went straight for it, tongue flat and rough, licking up everything like he was starving. My hands flew to his hair, holding him there, legs over his shoulders. He sucked my clit so hard I screamed, then soothed it with soft licks that made me sob.

“Best pussy I’ve ever tasted,” he muttered against me, voice muffled. “Fucking criminal.”

I came again so fast it hurt, thighs clamping around his head, probably suffocating him. He didn’t care. Kept licking me through it until I was pushing at his forehead going “stop stop stop too much….”

He finally pulled back, lips shiny, eyes black. “Still hate me?”

I was crying and laughing at the same time. “So fucking much.”

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smirking like he’d won the Super Bowl. “Good. Keep it that way.”

I lay there wrecked, legs still spread, skirt around my waist like a belt, trying to remember how breathing worked.

He stood up, adjusted himself through his jeans he was hard as steel, outline obscene, and looked down at me.

“We’re not fucking,” he said. Not a question.

I nodded, still dazed. “Not fucking.”

“Tonight,” he added.

I swallowed. “Tonight.”

He leaned down, kissed me soft this time, letting me taste myself on his tongue. Then he bit my bottom lip, not gentle.

“Next time you need to cum,” he said, “you come find me. Not him. Not your own hand. Me. Got it?”

I should’ve told him to fuck off.

Instead I whispered, “Got it.”

He walked out without another word.

I stayed on the couch until my parents got home at 12:47, pretending to be asleep under a blanket that smelled like sex and bad decisions.

When Mom kissed my forehead goodnight I almost laughed in her face.

Best pussy eater I’d ever met was currently in the room above mine probably jerking off to how loud I screamed his name.

Welp! help me, I hated him so much it felt like love.