Jax Dirty Air Series Novels & Stories

She was wearing a black bodysuit and blue baggy jeans… and there went my plans of treating her to an expensive restaurant. She looked pretty regardless. Her hair seemed crazy, but it suited her somehow. I was afraid to ask her if she needed to change it. I didn't want to offend her and have her blow up on me with how black women treated their hair. It seemed sacred. "I'm ready," Jordan announced giddily, her mood a contrast to what it had been earlier in the morning. "I can see that." "Can we get going?" I laughed and gestured for her to lead the way. She was oddly impatient today and I knew it was because of the answers she would be getting soon. Jordan tried to make me let her drive, but t

“You’re fucked, man. She’ll never give it up.” But Jax loved a challenge. Jax Harlan was the complete opposite of Grace. At twenty-three, with messy dark hair that seemed to cover his piercing blue eyes, a lean muscular build gotten from working at the local auto shop, and snake tattoos across his arms and chest, Jax was trouble. He rode a black motorcycle through the streets and always smoked behind the old diner. His crew of friends, a rough group of mechanics and dropouts were drinking at the pool hall one lazy summer evening when the challenge was thrown down.

The Revers had parked their massive, spiked choppers right in the middle of the holographic botanical gardens, completely ignoring the synthesized chirping of digital birds. Jax had claimed a sleek, geometric quartz fountain as his personal armory, sharpening his phased gear-axe on the edge of the basin. "I feel bad for the floors," Jax grunted, spitting the end of a cigar onto the glowing smart-glass. "It's like tracking mud into an operating room." "Get used to it," Dax said, walking past the mercenary leader. The President of the Iron Wolves hadn't taken his heavy leather cut off, though he had finally washed the dried blood from his face. "We aren't leaving. This is our forward operating

Jax said, grabbing his tactical pack and the steel case of anti-toxin from my counter. As the line of leather and gray nylon filed out into the freezing downpour, the roar of the Harleys clearing the shipyard gates was a synchronized scream of vengeance against the night. I walked back to the table, my fingers steady as I drove the needle into the wounded Stray’s central line, watching the monitor as his frantic heart rate began to level out against the machine.

Chapter 19 Crack Jax drove home with both windows down, even though the cold bit through his hoodie and made his teeth ache. He told himself the fresh air would clear Ronan’s scent from his lungs. It didn’t. Pine and smoke clung to his skin like smoke after a fire faint, stubborn, impossible to shake. The aftershock waited until he hit the highway.

The air was thick with the scent of sex, sweat, and wet earth. *Easy,” Jax murmured again, his voice strained with the effort of holding himself back. His hands on her hips were like iron, keeping her still. He didn’t shove. He insinuated. The slick head of his cock, coated in a mixture of his own cum and her juices, pressed insistently against her tight, crinkled star.

Leo lay under me, his hands stroking my dick while I got fucked hard. “I am gonna cum down your throat soon,” Jax growled from above. I managed a small nod. Darren watched all of us go at it while he was stroking himself. “Don’t hold back. Fill him up.” Jax came first, groaning as he shot hot cum across my tongue and I swallowed what I could while the rest was left to drip down my chin. Marcus sped up with his big cock insanely pounding into my ass until he buried himself as deep as he could in me and unloaded everything he had to give inside of me.

"Texas's roads aren't exactly kind to twenty-million-dollar dresses or the women wearing them. Now come on, let's go. We're on a schedule." He stepped out of the car before I could argue about the logistics of private aviation or the casual way he'd just mentioned Texas like it was a short jaunt down the street. The humid air of the tarmac rushed in, carrying with it the scent of jet fuel and summer heat. A moment later, my door swung open. Jaxx stood there, the sun catching the sharp lines of his jaw, looking every bit the dominant force nature intended him to be. He held out his hand to me, palm up, waiting with the patience of someone who knew I would eventually take it.

Never had we seen a bloodlust driven vampire, hunt and feed before and it made us nauseous to keep watching her bathe in - ughh - Xyler’s blood. So we did the only rational thing that we could think of and do- turn around and spill our stomach’s acids out. “Ewww. You ruined my favourite, custom made shoes, dude !!” Jax shrieked as he came back to his senses and got up. “Oh man !” he whined. “I will buy you another pair of- …. ughh …. blergh,” I sprayed all over Jax’s trousers too. “For the love of God, not my favourite trousers too !!” Jax cried out.

Max managed to get back to his house quickly before the other truck which was following him. He was surprised that he actually made it to the house beforehand, just knowing the people that were driving the truck. Luckily there was nothing really that could break. Everything that she had was really sturdy, and it had been there for a while. She had managed to go ahead and clean up as much as possible as they were loading everything up. They started upstairs and then worked their way downstairs as well. She vacuumed and then made sure that everything was clean even though it was always clean in the house because she never really did anything. well Max was busy talking to the guys she walked ov