Ride me Down

Chapter Nine – Burned Into Each Other

They stumbled down the hallway like they were drunk on each other—hands everywhere, mouths crashing together like they couldn’t get close enough, fast enough. Her fingers tugged at his shirt, his teeth grazed her neck. Every step was a messy, desperate blur.

By the time they reached his bedroom door, she was breathless, lips swollen, heart hammering like a warning she had no interest in heeding.

Jax stopped her from opening it. Pressed her back to his chest, his breath hot against the side of her face.

“I’m claiming you, Taylor.”

She let her palms flatten against the door, steadying herself—not just from the rush of his voice, but the way her body reacted like it wanted to be claimed.

Still, her mouth worked faster than her head.

“Didn’t you already?” she asked, voice dry, mocking. “I mean, you did have me in the storage room.”

His chest rumbled with something between a laugh and a growl.

“You didn’t come,” he said against her ear, voice dropping. His hand slid across her stomach, low and slow, until her breath caught.

“I didn’t come.”

Taylor swallowed hard, her body tightening with the weight of that promise.

She knew exactly where this was going.

This wasn’t about s*x anymore.

This was about surrender.

And Jax—he didn’t deal in halves.

“After tonight,” he said, his voice laced with finality, “there’s no turning back. You’re mine. Mine alone.”

Her fingers curled against the doorframe, heart thundering. But she didn’t back away.

Didn’t argue.

Because the truth was—part of her wanted to belong to someone who burned this hot and looked at her like that.

Even if it scared the hell out of her.

When she didn’t answer right away, Jax pressed against her harder—his mouth trailing heat along her throat, his fingers slipping beneath the hem of her dress like he had every right to be there.

She wasn’t even wearing underwear anymore—she’d lost that battle somewhere between the wall and the chaos. And now he had free access. Manipulating her like he owned her.

The bastard.

“I need you to tell me you understand what I’m saying,” he murmured against her skin, voice low and dangerous.

She bit her lip, eyes fluttering shut as that familiar pressure started to build low in her belly—hot, tight, impossible to ignore.

“Say you’re mine, Taylor.”

She almost laughed. Of course he’d play dirty. Of course he’d use this to get what he wanted.

If she didn’t say it, he’d stop. And she’d combust. Right here in the damn hallway.

“I'm yours,” she breathed, giving him what he wanted—but barely.

He didn’t move. Didn’t let up.

“Louder,” he said, voice smug. “I want everyone to hear you.”

This evil bastard.

Her jaw tightened. Her pride screamed in protest, but her body didn’t care. Her body was seconds away from unraveling, and he knew it.

“I’m yours, Jax!” she bit out, the words more like a growl than a confession.

Only then did he pull back—like he hadn’t just lit her on fire from the inside out.

He chuckled softly, satisfied, smug as hell.

And she swore in that moment—when her legs were still shaking and her pride barely hanging on—she was going to get him back for this.

He’d think twice before trying to own her again.

He opened the door to his bedroom, glanced back at her like he already owned the outcome.

“Well,” he drawled, that arrogant glint in his eyes, “let’s give you what you need.”

She turned, fire snapping in her gaze, ready to chew him out—to remind him she was nobody’s game piece. But she didn’t get the chance.

He was on her before the first word left her mouth, pressing two fingers to her lips. Slow. Intentional. Letting her taste herself.

“You need me,” he said, voice all heat and knowing. “Don’t deny it.”

God, if she wasn’t so drunk on adrenaline and lust, she would’ve walked right back out and slammed the door behind her. But she didn’t. She couldn’t.

Because damn him, he was right.

She hated how much she needed him in that moment. Hated how her pride bent every time he touched her like that—like he knew her body better than she did.

As she stepped into his room, his hand came down on her ass—hard enough to make her gasp, loud enough that the echo cracked through the space like a warning.

“Lose the dress,” he said—ordered, really—like it was just another given.

She didn’t turn around. Didn’t give him the satisfaction of her eyes.

But the dress came off anyway.

Not because he told her to.

But because she wanted to.

Jax didn’t say a word—he didn’t have to. He moved in like gravity itself was bending toward her, hands rough and certain against her bare skin. He touched her like a man who knew exactly what he’d been handed.

She gave him that much. For now.

He lifted her with ease, tossing her onto his bed like she weighed nothing. Her heels scraped against the sheets on impact, the sharp edge of one catching the fabric and tearing right through it.

Neither of them even blinked.

Jax kicked off his boots—but that was it.

The rest stayed on.

And of course it did.

It was a message. A warning. A reminder that this was still his game, still his world, and right now, she was in it on his terms.

A power play, plain and simple.

He wanted her stripped bare and open, while he kept his armor. She knew exactly what he was doing.

And still—her body answered to him like it forgot she had a choice.

Her mouth quirked into something between a smirk and a snarl.

“You planning to keep the mystery alive, or are you just afraid to let me see you undone?” she asked, voice sweet with venom.

His eyes flashed, hungry.

“Careful, darling,” he said, voice low and rough. “Keep talking like that, and I’ll make sure you can’t walk tomorrow.”

Taylor’s breath caught—but her chin lifted.

“Promises, promises,” she whispered.

But Jax didn’t take the bait. Not yet. He was too focused—dangerously so. A man with a plan and no intention of rushing through the parts that drove her crazy.

He shifted on the bed, his body closing in over hers, all heat and muscle and command. She didn’t need to be told what to do—her legs parted on instinct, welcoming him in like her body had already surrendered.

Her pride, however, wasn’t going down without a fight.

He settled between her thighs, that familiar smirk brushing against her mouth.

“Oh, you’re not getting out of bed tomorrow,” he murmured, voice dark and low like a sin she was about to commit all over again.

Her breath hitched. Her heart kicked.

The sound of his zipper dragging down cut through the dark room—loud, raw, final.

It sent a shiver down her spine.

She trembled in his arms, not out of fear—but anticipation. Need. That all-consuming ache only he seemed to know how to set off.

Jax settled between her legs, spreading her open—like there was no room for hesitation anymore. His lips brushed against hers, soft for a second. Too soft. Then he moved, and the pressure of him sliding into her pulled a ragged cry from her throat.

That was it. That was him.

There was no space left for thoughts. Just the way he filled her. The way he smelled—woodsmoke, leather, control. It was all over her now.

Her hands found the hem of his tee and slid under, fingers splaying against his heated skin. Then she raked her nails down his back—slow, deliberate, claiming him right back.

If she was going to burn, she’d leave her marks in the ash.

Because this wasn’t surrender.

This was a brand.

And then it hit her.

Her orgasm slammed through her like a wave crashing over a cliff—built on the edge of his teasing, dragged out until it cracked her wide open. She saw stars. Her body arched, back bowing, breath shattering as she cried out his name.

Jax didn’t stop. Of course he didn’t. He kept moving, kept owning the moment, making sure every second of it wrecked her in the best way. She was a mess beneath him—gasping, begging, burning.

But when she finally came back down from that blinding high, her brain clicked back into place.

If he made her feel that undone…

Then he deserved the same.

She wasn’t going to let him walk away from this night with all the power.

With a determined gleam in her eye and still breathless from the aftershocks, she rolled them—fast, fierce, focused.

She ended up on top, straddling him with a wicked smirk and fire still licking at her veins.

“Your turn,” she whispered, voice husky but sure.

And then she moved.

Slow at first. Teasing. Intentional.

She was going to ride him until he broke.

Until he forgot his name.

Until he remembered hers.

She watched his face twist in pleasure, his composure finally cracking. That smug control of his—gone.

It was the most satisfying thing she’d seen all night.

Her palms flattened against his chest, steadying herself as her lips grazed the side of his neck—soft, slow, deliberate. A kiss meant to wreck him the way he’d wrecked her.

And then she felt it. The way his body tensed beneath hers. The way his breath caught right before he let out that deep, guttural groan that set fire down her spine.

He came, hard. His grip bruising her thighs in the best way. She’d wear his fingerprints like a crown.

But she didn’t let him off easy.

No—he didn’t go easy on her, and she had no intention of doing him any favors.

She kept going. Drew it out. Pushed him through the edge until he finally—physically—had to pull her off him and drop her beside him on the bed like he needed a minute to remember how to breathe.

She smirked at the ceiling, flushed and satisfied.

Then she turned her head—and met his gaze.

That look in his eyes?

Wicked.

Possessive.

A warning that he wasn’t finished with her. Not even close.

Taylor exhaled, dragging the sheet higher over her bare chest as her heartbeat slowed.

Yeah, she’d started something tonight.