Ragatha X Jax Novels & Stories

Tonight I was going to make him feel exactly what I’ve been feeling. My best friend Lena had found the perfect weapon: Jax. 6’5”, deep olive skin, eight-pack abs, thick muscular arms, and a cocky smirk that screamed “I will ruin your marriage.” We booked him specifically for the one Saturday Mark was home. When the doorbell rang, my pussy was already wet with revenge. Lena let him in. Jax walked into my living room shirtless, grey sweatpants hanging dangerously low on his hips. Every muscle was carved and oiled. The heavy outline of his thick cock swung between his legs like a challenge.

She looked at Jax. “You want him to lie,” she said. “Or you want him to be honest.” Jax exhaled slowly. “Honesty doesn’t fix stupid.” Rhea’s gaze finally shifted to me. “Is she stupid,” she asked. “No.” “Is she chasing the club.” “No.” “Is she using you.” “No.” “Then what’s the issue,” she asked Jax. Jax’s jaw ticked. “The issue is attachment.” There it was. The word no one liked saying.

She opened it and her stomach flipped. Jax filled the doorway, six-four, shoulders like bridge beams, black tank top stretched across a tattooed chest, arms corded with muscle, jeans low on narrow hips. Dark stubble, scarred knuckles, eyes the color of wet slate. Tool belt slung low, heavy wrench in one hand. “Leak?” he rumbled, voice like gravel. “Under the sink,” Lena managed, stepping aside.

Jax stood at the foot of the bed, still fully clothed, staring down at her like a predator. "Look at you," he growled. "Spoiled little rich girl, naked and collared, spreading her legs for her bodyguard. Does it turn you on knowing how wrong this is?" "Yes," she whispered, cheeks burning. Jax slowly removed his jacket and shirt, revealing his powerful, tattooed chest and abs. Aria’s mouth went dry at the sight. He climbed onto the bed between her legs but didn’t touch her pussy. Instead, he leaned down and sucked hard on one of her nipples, teeth grazing the sensitive peak while his hand squeezed the other breast. Aria moaned loudly, arching into his mouth.

I'm sorry for everything---'' ''---No, it's not going to happen.'' ''Please.'' ''No.'' ''Please, Jason, Please I'm begging you-'' ''Can't you see Sasha? Do you think that I can love someone? Huh? You really think that there's some ounce in my heart that I care about. That I am some prince charming, a knight shining armor? I'm not. I'm Jason Vella, a billionaire that doesn't give a fuck about anybody else. Do you hear me? I don't care about anyone but my damn self."

He stopped right across from me and dropped into the seat facing mine, his long legs spread wide. "Storm's getting nasty," he said. His voice was deep, rough like gravel. "Name's Jax." I swallowed. "Elena." "Nice name." His eyes traveled down my body slowly, stopping at my legs. "You always dress like a good girl on night trains?" Heat flooded my face. "I work at a library. This is normal clothes." "Normal clothes that make me want to rip them off." He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Been watching you since you got on. You walk like you're scared of your own shadow, but your eyes... they say something else."

alone. Now, Jax was surrounded by the Original OG Members of the Krauser Kartel—the legends who had helped Oliver Reed reclaim Metro City. There was Nikolai Khrushev, Don Krauser's silent but deadly right-hand man; Nikita Khrushev, Nikolai's sister, the sharp-eyed owner of Nikoffee; Jonas Rex, the real estate mogul who knew every secret tunnel in the district; Latisha Henderson, the investment guru whose cold logic matched Jade's; and Ethan Knox, the attorney who knew exactly how to make a body "disappear" legally.

Satera The cool night air hit Satera's face like a slap, but it couldn't stop the acrid burn in her throat. Her ears are ringing with the ghost of the bass, and the rough grip Bensjasmin had on her arm is already forming a tender bruise. “Stupid. So, so stupid Satera! Are you mad? He's Khaid Jager! People die for bumping his elbow, and you told him his eyes were on 'booties'!”

he exclaimed. “Rhygher ?” I repeated the name in surprise. “But who is Rhygher ?” I wondered. “We need to finish up this business here quickly and get back to the pack house soon. We can’t afford to endanger our identities to an unknown, powerful enemy,” Jax said and we nodded in agreement. Suddenly, we heard the echo of snapping sounds and torture cries from the western flank and all heads turned towards Jax. “WHAT ? I just wanted to have some fun,” he childishly defended himself and I couldn’t help myself from smiling at his childlike, mischievous behaviour.

“Maybe I do.” The light turned green, but he didn’t move right away. Instead, he pulled the cab into a darker side street, killed the engine, and turned around. The divider was already down. He looked even bigger up close—rugged face, stubble, strong jaw. His name tag said Jax. “Get up here,” he ordered quietly.