روايات وقصص ضمن Jax Dirty Air Series

Jake Jake walked into his small townhouse, the smell of spring flowers filling the air. He smiled at the sound of his brothers making fun of his cleaning habits somewhere in the recess of his memory. He needed to take a trip back to Texas soon. It had been three or four years, and though he talked to his mother and father every Sunday, he needed to see them. It was Bethany's fault... or maybe it was time to move past that. He pulled his shirt over his head and held it until he walked into his room, jumping and shooting it into the clothes hamper like a basketball.

Juicy put her hands on her hips and stretched her back. She felt it crack and sighed in relief. Oh that was good… "Mama I want pink bows." "Okay, Miss bossy." Jazzy was bouncing up and down on her butt in the salon chair. She was a bundle of energy. That girl could run from sunup to sundown. Troy was always there, running right beside her.

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.

Jax ripped off his tactical vest, using the heavy Kevlar plates to beat back the flames, stomping with his heavy boots until the fire died down into a smoldering, acrid mess. The air in the Great Room was a poison soup. Jax pulled the hem of his shirt over his nose, his eyes watering. He tried to reach the windows to vent the room, but the "veil" Magda had cast made the smoke heavy, like it was trying to push him back. His lungs burned, and his vision began to swim. He realized he couldn't clear the room fast enough—he had to get them out.