Ride me Down

Chapter Eight - Heat & Havoc

She could’ve gone upstairs. Could’ve stayed in Jax’s room, hidden under a blanket, and pretended none of this was happening.

But no.

If Jax thought he could stir the pot, crack open her heart, and then watch her fall at his feet—he had another thing coming.

So she stayed.

And if she was going to stay, she’d put on a show.

She found the drinks table, grabbed a bottle, and poured herself a double shot of something that smelled expensive and tasted like fire. It went down fast. Too fast. But that was kind of the point.

By her third drink, she was all smirks and glitter and false confidence, moving through the crowd like she owned the damn place. She could feel the stares—half of them confused, half of them hungry.

She didn't care.

Her heels clicked across the floor as she made her way to the makeshift dance area where a few others were moving to the music, bodies too loose, too close.

Taylor joined in.

Not to blend, but to burn.

She swayed, slow at first—just enough to turn a few heads. Then deeper. Hips rolling with the beat, arms over her head, dress clinging to every curve. Her hair fell around her face, lips parted just enough to look effortless, dangerous, untouchable.

She wasn’t dancing for attention.

She was dancing for him.

And when she glanced across the room and saw Jax—standing like a storm about to break, arms crossed, jaw tight, eyes locked on her like he could tear every man near her to shreds—her smile deepened.

Because he hadn’t looked away once.

She tossed her head, spun on her heel, and danced closer to a guy she didn’t know—let him rest his hands low on her hips, just long enough to watch Jax’s restraint snap.

She thought she had him.

Thought she’d finally chipped through that wall of control he wore like armor.

But then she saw it—that damn smirk.

Like he wasn’t rattled at all. Like he knew she wouldn’t really go through with it. That she’d flirt, tease, dance too close, and then fold the second his voice dropped low enough to remind her who he was.

Well.

He didn’t know her half as well as he thought he did.

Because what he clearly forgot was that drunk Taylor—the version who ended up tangled in his sheets, breathless and moaning his name—was bold. Reckless. Flirty as hell. She didn’t overthink. She didn’t hold back. She just did.

And right now? She was in full control.

She turned her back on Jax, her dress riding a little higher as she slid closer to the guy dancing behind her. His hands hesitated—like he couldn’t believe he was getting away with touching her. Taylor just smiled and let her hips grind back slightly into him, slow, measured, enough to make a point.

Let him watch.

Let him see what he’d passed up. Let him sit there with that ridiculous smirk and burn.

She threw a look over her shoulder—not at the guy, but at Jax.

He wasn’t smirking anymore.

His jaw was tight, his eyes two sharp points of heat tracking every move she made. That storm in him? It was at the edge now. Rattling the walls, begging to break loose.

Good.

She tilted her head, gave him one of those sugary-sweet smiles, then raised her drink in a mock toast.

Cheers, biker boy.

The guy behind her leaned in, lips brushing her ear. “You sure your man’s okay with this?”

She laughed softly, her eyes still locked on Jax. “Oh, he’s not my man.”

But the second she said it, the air shifted.

Jax moved.

Not fast.

Deliberate.

A predator who’d finally decided the game was over.

She barely registered the shift in the room before his hand wrapped firmly around her wrist.

Not rough. But commanding. Possessive.

The guy behind her stepped back like he’d just touched a live wire.

And Jax?

Jax didn’t say a word.

He just moved.

Through the crowd. Past the music. Past the stares. Dragging her with him like she weighed nothing, like the decision was already made.

Taylor didn’t resist—but she didn’t go quietly either.

“Oh, what’s this?” she said loud enough for a few heads to turn. “You want a dance now too? Gonna join the party after all, Jax?”

His jaw was clenched tight, that muscle ticking in the side of his face. He didn’t look at her as he stalked toward the back hall, but she saw it in the way his grip tightened slightly.

She was getting under his skin.

Good.

“You’re not the boss of me, you know,” she went on, matching his steps without stumbling even once in her heels. “Dragging me out like I’m some little brat who misbehaved—what are you gonna do now? Lecture me? Ground me?”

They hit the end of the hall. A door slammed open.

He shoved her into a room—storage maybe, dimly lit, stacked with boxes—but she barely registered it because the look he gave her as he shut the door behind them made her heart punch her ribs.

It wasn’t anger anymore.

It was possession.

And heat.

And something wild he couldn’t cage anymore.

“Keep talking,” Jax growled, voice low, rough, like he was barely hanging on. “Keep pushing me, Taylor.”

She didn’t back down. Didn’t flinch.

Instead, she stepped closer, tilted her head, her voice a taunt wrapped in silk. “Why? What are you gonna do, Jax? Claim me? Finally admit that I’ve been yours this whole damn time?”

He closed the distance in one breath.

His mouth was on hers in the next.

There was nothing soft about the way he kissed her—no hesitation, no restraint. Just weeks of tension, frustration, and need crashing all at once.

His hands found her waist, pulling her against him, and she let out a breathless moan as her back hit the wall. Her fingers tangled in his shirt, nails digging in, like she needed to anchor herself to something—anything—before she completely shattered.

He kissed her like he was starved.

And she kissed him back like she’d been waiting for this moment ever since she first walked into that damn biker bar in heels that didn’t belong there.

When he finally broke the kiss, his forehead rested against hers, his breath ragged.

“You don’t get it, do you?” he whispered, voice cracked open. “You’ve been mine since the second I saw you in that dress.”

Taylor’s eyes fluttered open.

Still breathless. Still aching.

Still burning.

And for once... she didn’t have anything clever to say.

Not yet.

She tilted her head back, breath hot against his throat, her pulse thudding like a war drum.

Yeah—she wanted this. God, she wanted him.

But she needed him to know something first.

He broke his own rules for her. Chased her. Made a scene in front of his men—something she could only guess he’d sworn never to do. She was the first woman to ever make him lose it, and they all saw it.

That wasn’t just a win. That was power.

Still—she wasn't about to trade one cage for another.

“I’m not your possession,” she said, voice low but clear. “I’ll let you have me—right here, right now—but not as something you own. I speak for myself. I move for myself. I choose.”

Her eyes met his, sharp and steady.

“I can say and do whatever the hell I want.”

He didn’t back down. Didn’t soften.

He just smirked like the arrogant bastard he was and dragged his knuckles down her thigh, slow enough to make her breath hitch.

“Cute,” he murmured, “that you think you can make demands now.”

She arched a brow. “I just did.”

That smug glint in his eye dimmed just slightly. And that was all she needed.

She was letting him win—but on her terms.

So when he pressed her back against the wall again, his hand threading into her hair, mouth rough on hers, it wasn’t possession—it was surrender. On both sides.

She gave in with fire in her blood.

Because this time, it was a choice.

And he knew it.

He didn’t claim her like she was his property—he claimed her like she was his equal.

Like no one else could handle her spark.

And when his mouth moved from her lips to her throat, she whispered in his ear, voice laced with dark satisfaction:

“Next time, ask nicely.”

His grip on her hip tightened, his breath catching against her skin.

Jax kissed her with that same consuming force—rough, wild, and hungry. And she let him. God, she wanted him to. She had from the start, and now there was no more pretending.

She gasped as he pulled away, spun her around like he couldn’t wait another second. Her palms hit the wall, her cheek brushing cool concrete as her body shivered in anticipation.

Her pulse thudded loud in her ears.

She heard the low rustle behind her—the sound of leather and a belt being undone—and it sent heat rushing down her spine.

Her breath caught when his hands slid up the inside of her thigh, slow at first, then firmer, more demanding. She bit her lip, trying to keep quiet, but the moan still escaped her.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t soft.

It was urgent. Unapologetic.

And it only made her need more.

She arched into his touch, her head turned just enough to see a glimpse of him over her shoulder—his jaw clenched, eyes dark, every muscle in his body tight like he was holding back a storm.

Her voice was a whisper, breathless but steady.

“I hope you know... this doesn’t change anything.”

His fingers dug into her hips.

“Oh, darling,” he growled low in her ear, sending a shiver right through her, “it changes everything.”

Her eyes fluttered shut, breath catching as she felt him press against her—hard, hot, and unrelenting. Every inch of him shouted possession. He didn’t just take her—he marked her with every movement. There was no mistaking what this was to him.

Claiming.

And the worst part?

She welcomed it.

The moans that slipped from her lips weren’t quiet, weren’t sweet. They were raw, needy, and real.

There was no doubt that everyone heard her, heard how she belonged to Jax in every sense.

She knew this, but she couldn’t stop the sounds from coming. He knew exactly how to handle her. She hated how much she needed it—how much she needed him. How easy it was to lose herself in the way he handled her like he knew every nerve under her skin.

He wrapped a hand around her throat—not tight, but enough to remind her.

He was in control.

He always had been.

The bastard didn’t just make sure everyone heard how he claimed her—he made damn sure they’d see the aftermath too. The way she looked, sounded, felt after him. Like something wild and wrecked, marked down to the soul.

Her body still trembled—high from the adrenaline, from the way he held her, from the filthy, electric rush that hadn’t fully let her go. But she didn’t pull away.

She didn’t want to.

And he knew it.

Jax pulled her from the wall—not rough this time, but intentional. Grounded. Like he was making a choice and fully expecting her to follow it.

His gaze locked with hers. Dark. Demanding. That kind of look that said down on your knees, without saying a single damn word.

And her body—traitor that it was—obeyed.

Her knees hit the ground like instinct. No hesitation. No shame. She took him into her mouth, tasting herself on him, owning every second of it. She didn’t flinch, didn’t look away. Let him see exactly what kind of woman he had in front of him.

When his grip tightened in her hair and his control began to fray, he pulled her off him with a rough, frustrated growl that made her smirk.

Yeah. She still had power here too.

She barely had time to catch her breath before his hands were on her again—pulling her in, mouths crashing together like they were trying to drown in each other. They weren’t gentle. They weren’t even careful. They were a mess of need and tension and everything they hadn’t said out loud.

Jax adjusted his clothes with the kind of ease that said he’d done this before. Taylor scrambled to fix hers too, breath still ragged, body still humming from what had just happened.

But he didn’t give her much time.

Fingers wrapped around her wrist, firm but not cruel, and suddenly she was being dragged out of the storage room. They didn’t get far. They never got far.

That pull between them?

Relentless.

Halfway to the stairs, he turned and shoved her up against the wall again, mouth crashing down on hers like he couldn’t stand another second without tasting her.

She kissed him back with the same fire, letting her smirk bleed through the kiss. Because she knew what he tasted on her tongue—and so did he.

Then came the sound.

Voices. Footsteps. Laughter.

They weren’t alone.

Her cheeks burned, heat flooding her face, but Jax? He didn’t even blink. He didn’t stop. Didn’t care.

He leaned down, breath hot against her ear, voice low and rough and possessive as hell.

“Upstairs.”

Her lips brushed his jaw, smile teasing, voice breathless but firm. “Lead the way.”

Her legs felt like jelly, but she followed.

Past the stares. Past the whispers.

She didn’t care who saw her disappear up those stairs with him. Let them watch. Let them make their assumptions.

If they wanted a show—they got a damn show.

And now, she was going to give him everything.

On her terms. In his world.

But no one would forget who made the first move.