CHAPTER FIFTEEN

 

Hours of Seven and sex, and he might be able to die a happy man. Jax rolled over and lay on his back. Seven used his bicep as a pillow. He wasn't entirely sure, but there was a decent chance that she was asleep. He was well fucked. Better than he'd been for as long as his mind could reach back. He wanted to blame his fascination with her piercings, but that would be the easy way out. She was fun. In many ways.

Fun to flirt with.

Fun to kiss, nibble, lick, and eat.

Fun to screw.

But it was the way that she came, totally and completely letting herself go, giving a raw realness in a way that he didn't know could happen. It was very… Seven-esque, and he dug it.

"You asleep?" He turned, tucking his other arm around her soft waist and sliding his palm over her hipbone.

"Nope. I just can't move."

A quiet rumble of laughter made his chest move. "My job here is done."

"I'd clap, but then…" She lifted her shoulder against him. "The whole moving thing."

"Clap, huh? That'd be a first."

One of her eyes opened. "There's a small chance I don't believe you."

He smirked, taking that moment to pull her naked body on top of his. "There's always the chance I'm wrong."

"You, wrong?" She nodded, sprawled over his torso, and let her chin rest against his. "That I believe a thousand times."

"Good to see pumping you full of orgasms doesn't quiet your attitude."

"Not a chance, big boy. Sorry if that was your grand plan."

"Plans come and go."

She smiled, and her mussed, bright hair hung over her face like a bold frame. "What's the next one?"

Jax ran his hands down her bare back, slowly skimming the beautiful swell of her ass. "Food."

"Oh, that's a good one. But the whole moving thing, remember?" She let her lips tickle against his as she spoke.

If he wasn't starving and she hadn't repeated how she couldn't move half a dozen times, the second time her tongue darted out and teased his lip, he would have flipped her over and started their antics again. But he was starved, and she was… whatever she was.

"A nice place like this? International business travelers?" He rolled her over carefully onto a pillow and stood, noticing that Seven didn't shrink away from how her hungry stare worked over him. "Let's see if their room service is twenty-four hours."

He glanced outside and noticed the sky wasn't the black it had been. A purple hue softened the skyline. He had no idea what time it was. Maybe the hotel even had breakfast open. He grabbed the phone and pressed the button for the front desk.

A moment later, a man answered. "Buenos dias. Cómo puedo ayudarle?"

What the hell was the word he was looking for? "El servicio a la habitación?"

"Si."

Awesome. "Anything that's la comida de desayuno."

He hung up and turned around to find Seven sitting up, knees pulled up with her arms tucked around them.

"What are we having?"

His grin hitched. "I think I ordered breakfast food. Hungry?"

She slow-clapped. "I'm impressed. Very Navy SEAL of you. Adapt to your surroundings."

Jax rolled his eyes and moved back to the pile of blankets and pillows they'd constructed into their sex den. "I can probably pull it off in Arabic too."

"Ohh, I'm getting hot and bothered all over again."

He curled his fingers, beckoning her to him, and she rolled her eyes.

"C'mere, Seven."

"You get bossy when you're hangry." She crossed her arms over her breasts.

"You've not seen me bossy, lucky." He curled his fingers again, silently calling her to him.

"You've not gotten lucky because of me… yet." She moved forward so that she was on all fours, her ass swaying back and forth.

"Oh, yeah? What would you call earlier?"

"It was inevitable." She slinked closer, crawling toward him, sending blood straight to his cock with every inch.

"Yeah—" Jax almost hissed when she burrowed into his naked lap and licked his thigh, dragging her tongue to the sensitive flesh near his groin. "Shit, Seven."

"Relax." She maneuvered his legs so that she kneeled in between them, carefully twisty-stroking his cock and letting the tip of her tongue toy with the thick ridge of his head.

"Not sure if relax is the right word." But his eyes sank shut when her lips closed around his hard-on. His breath stuttered at the wet heat enveloping him, and the smooth slide of the ball stud as her tongue feathered down him was bliss.

A vibrating moan rumbled over him as Seven worked him into her mouth. The crown hit the back of her throat, sliding deeper, and her hands felt as if they were everywhere at once. Twisting. Stroking. Massaging. She worked his shaft and played his scrotum. God, Jax was dizzy as his hips wanted to move. His mind wandered to an infinite blankness where he couldn't experience anything but her wicked mouth sucking him within an inch of his life.

Seven's blow job explored. It was messy with drool and sounds that he would remember. It was perfect, and he was trying not to come, needing this to last forever—or at least until room service arrived. Fuck.

Panting, he needed to fill her mouth. "Seven."

She nodded on him, moaning.

Jax thrust up, and she held her mouth down, gagging then massaging, gagging and working his shaft. He didn't want this to end. He gave her short, quick thrusts, and she bobbed her head in time, stacking her hands.

"Oh, shhhh—"

Seven's lips carefully stayed on the sensitive tip of his cock, her tongue and tongue stud sliding along the ridge of his crown as he came.

He collapsed back, landing on a pillow as she pulled away and curled under his arm. He was numb. Just like she'd said earlier, he couldn't move—not after he pulled her to his chest, letting her hair stick to his sweat-dampened skin.

Knock. Knock.

"Damn it." He groaned, not that he wasn't still hungry, but standing would require more effort than he could manage.

"Hang tight." Seven unwrapped from his hold and fashioned the sheet around her like a gown, the end of it trailing behind her as she headed toward the door.

Jax pulled a blanket over his lower half as she opened the door.

Seven laughed. "Wow, you ordered a lot!"

The room service waiter wheeled in their order, glancing his way briefly but catching himself and saying nothing.

Seven smiled with her sex-swollen lips and crazy hair. "Don't mind him."

"I didn't," the man said in a heavy accent, handing her the bill to sign. "As long as he's alive, my boss does not care."

She scrawled on the bill and signed with great flare then smiled as though the devil whispered in her ear. "He almost had the life sucked out of him, but I think he's going to make it."

The guy couldn't hold back his laugh, no matter how much he blushed and tried. Even Jax shook his head and chuckled.

She saw the delivery person out then beelined to the cart of food. "What to start with first?" She searched under lids, oohing and ahhing, then went to the kitchenette to wash up.

Probably a good idea. He lumbered up and headed to the bathroom. "Whatever. Be back in a minute."

After a quick glance for his boxer briefs, he didn't see them and decided that naked was still the best course of action. A minute later, hands and face washed, he returned to Seven's elaborate picnic on the nearby couch. She'd moved some blankets and pillows, along with the coffee table, and had lost her sheet-gown.

"This might be one of the best ops I've ever worked."

Her eyebrow rose. "This might be one of the best Mayhem headaches I've ever had."

They both stood there, assessing in silence what that might actually mean and wondering if this would happen again. He had no idea. Too fucking bad. "Pancakes look good."

"Thought so too." Her flat smile didn't match the chipperness of agreement.

They met on the couch and dug in, devouring food with easy conversation, somehow not awkward even though they weren't clothed.

He was full, sated in many ways. And now, Jax's eyes seemed too heavy to stay awake. Seven yawned, and he eyed the bedroom where they'd stolen the covers. "Now we sleep?"

She popped up like a jack-in-the-box. "I need to get going."

His eyes went wide as he watched her fold all the sheets and extra blankets they'd pulled from the closet, smoothing the corners as if they had to be perfect.

"Are you staying here, or were you going back to…" She gestured to the window, and the city skyline was starting to show the break of dawn.

"You're not going to stay here?" he asked.

"People will worry if I'm not in my bed in the morning. Never know with those guys."

Jax ran his hand over his chin. "Right. I'll walk you—"

Her hand went up as if she were stopping traffic. "No. It's okay. I can see myself out."

"Seven…" He tried to get a read on the naked woman folding sheets. "I'm not a caveman. Only a jerk. Okay?"

"Jerk face," she joked quietly. "This has nothing to do with you. Everything to do with me. I like to be on my own. Do things my way. Please don't make me insist and pitch a fit, because I will."

Jax studied her, quieting the chivalrous grumble he didn't want to use in protest. "Sure."

Seven finished folding the blankets and dressed as he pulled on his boxer briefs and jeans, watching her tidy the room. He gathered that there was a certain way she did things, and the woman liked her independence. Who was he to force his protective nature on her, especially when he wasn't that familiar with it when it appeared?

Finally, she looked around, seemingly pleased. "Okay, then."

He grinned. "Things are to your satisfaction?"

She walked over and pressed her lips to his, melting against him on the couch for a goodbye kiss that could've started everything over again if she'd asked him. Jax pulled back, finger-combing her hair. "We should do this again sometime."

A blushing hue hit her cheeks. "Maybe."

Self-conscious innocence wasn't what he'd expected from her, not after all their shenanigans. "See you around, then."

She kissed him one more time then headed to the door. "Bye, Jax. Thanks for a great night."

The hotel door shut, and he waited, wondering if she would knock and change her mind. It was one thing to want to leave, but walking out alone into a cold, lonely hallway and heading into a foreign city, where they were meeting with a cartel boss, was another.

She didn't. A minute ticked by, and still, her exit didn't sit well with him. He wasn't trying to be a patronizing asshole who got his way, but seriously…

Jax tapped his fingers, waiting for the urge to see her home to dissipate. It didn't. "Fuck it."

He stood, grabbed his shirt and shoes, pulled them on, and looked around the room. He didn't want to stay there without her. His hotel room wasn't far away from hers.

After waiting what he was certain was long enough for her to catch an elevator, Jax left the room, went to the lobby, and asked the doorman which way the beautiful woman with pink went. She wasn't someone people could miss or forget.

A moment later, Jax found himself a half block behind a pink-haired showstopper and walked at enough of a distance that he could get to her if someone hassled her. No one did, and he stayed far away when she walked into a hotel with motorcycles lined nearby.

"Get some sleep, Seven." He should too, but suddenly, all he could do was think about whether colors had personalities and if bright, bold pink had meaning.