I lurch up again, pressing into his hand. I want so much more. I want everything.
But Jax retreats, slapping the end of the rope casually against his palm.
I work harder on the knot, releasing the first one. My arms drop about an inch, and I can reach the second far more easily.
“Mmmm,” Jax says. “Nicely done.” He drops the rope. This time he spreads my knees and slides both hands up my thighs. His thumbs press into me, splaying me so wide I feel a cool rush of air against the newly exposed folds.
I want more, to work this so fast that he doesn’t stop, that there is no pause. I slip my finger into the second knot and work it free. Just two more.
He doesn’t release me, but keeps working, one thumb circling the sensitive bud, and the other slipping along the wet spaces that welcome him greedily.
Now that I have room to work, the last two knots are easy. I pull them apart, and my arms fall away from the pole.
“Escaping bonds is a mind game,” Jax says. “Work with the knots, not against them.”
I can’t listen to anything. His fingers are making magic down below. I clutch his shoulders now that I’m free, and feel along his biceps. I haven’t touched anyone like this. I want to. I want to explore all of him.
Jax leans over me, bracing on one arm. His finger slips a little more deeply inside. I arch up and into him.
Sparks are bursting through me. My sensations are heightened, the smell of hay, the soft fuzz of the shawl, Jax’s breathing near my ear. He moves closer and his lips lock onto my breast, sucking lightly.
A buzz starts to build down low. I’ve never felt anything so intense. My need to be filled, to release the pressure, is maddening, unrelenting.
Jax’s movements increase in speed, delving more deeply. But something makes him stop suddenly and lift his head, looking at me. I don’t know what has happened, why he quit. My chest heaves.
He watches me quietly, concern on his brow, then he seems to shake it off. His fingers move back to the nub, and I close my eyes and the friction starts to reach something, to create some sort of synergy.
I relax into the hay and let it come over me, ripples like muscle contractions taking over my body in places I didn’t know existed.
Then suddenly the pleasure blasts out like a shock wave. I can’t stop myself from crying out, from saying Jax’s name. It’s too intense, too crazy, overwhelming and beautiful and wild.
I shudder around his hand. I can’t breathe, can’t talk, can’t think as I start to come down. This is what people talk about. This is why people do crazy stuff. This.
I want more. So much more. I want it again and again. I clutch at Jax. “What did you just do?” I ask.
His face looks puzzled. “This is new to you, isn’t it?”
I don’t want to answer. I don’t want him to know how inexperienced I am.
“I felt the resistance,” he says.
This is not the sexy talk I expected. It’s like an interrogation. I let go of him.
“Did you do the restructure surgery?” he says. “Were you in the program once?”
I bite back my disappointment even as my body still hums against his hand. I don’t know what he’s talking about. What restructure? What program?
Then it hits me. The hymen surgery. Fake virginity. Apparently it’s something certain types of operatives do.
“I didn’t even know people did that until you told me about it,” I say. I don’t know what he’s getting at, why he stopped. Doesn’t he want to do the rest? I sink into the hay. This feels over already. I want to weep.
Then I get it. He doesn’t want to be with a virgin. Or to destroy an expensive surgery.
He withdraws his hand. I grab at it, stopping him from pulling away. “It’s okay,” I say quickly. “I don’t mind doing this. With you.”
His Adam’s apple bobs. He looks genuinely concerned, something new. “You’ve never done any training, then,” he says.
“Do they take your virginity during it?” I ask, half sitting up. Surely not!
