Ride me Down

Chapter Fifteen - Trouble Wears Lipstick

Taylor hadn’t been called to Jax’s office before. She paused outside the heavy door, knuckles raised, heart thumping in her chest—not out of fear, but anticipation. Maybe a little bit of nerves. There was something about being summoned like that. It made her feel like she was about to be part of something bigger, or scolded like a child. She wasn’t sure which.

She knocked once and opened the door.

The first thing she noticed wasn’t Jax. It was the smoke.

It curled through the air like it belonged there—like the walls were used to it. The room smelled like tobacco and leather and Jax. Her eyes landed on him, and for the first time, she saw the cigarette between his fingers. He was leaned back in his chair, legs wide, shirt tight across his chest, exhaling like it was the most natural thing in the world.

He didn’t even look up at her yet.

She froze in the doorway, pulse fluttering. Of course she knew he smoked—she always smelled it on his skin when he pressed into her, always tasted it faintly when they kissed. But seeing it?

That was different.

It was wrong. Messy. So outside of her world. But somehow… hot.

Dangerously hot.

He glanced up at her then, and the look in his eyes made her breath hitch. Like he knew exactly what was going through her mind.

“Close the door, Taylor,” Jax said, voice low and steady. Like steel wrapped in velvet.

Ghost stood near the desk, arms crossed, watching her. Amused. Maybe even smug.

She closed the door quietly behind her, and it was Ghost who spoke first.

“You always talk a big game about not liking this world,” he said casually, tilting his head as if reading a book he already knew the ending to. “But you’re getting awfully comfortable inside it.”

Taylor didn’t rise to the bait. She moved toward Jax instead, crossing the room slowly, eyes locked with his like they were the only two in it.

“Why did you call me in?” she asked. She kept her tone neutral, trying not to betray the heat simmering in her skin from just looking at him like this.

Jax took one last drag before he crushed the cigarette in the ashtray. “Wanted to show you something.”

He gestured to the papers spread across the desk—maps, notes, photos. Territory lines. Business contracts. Cash flow. Her eyes scanned the surface, picking up pieces she didn’t fully understand but could tell were important.

“This is what I do,” he said simply. “The legitimate side. The side you said you wanted to understand.”

She nodded slowly, taking it in. The weight of it. The power. He wasn’t just dangerous because of the way he could fight or threaten or take a life. He was dangerous because he ran all of this with the same precision he used to unravel her in bed.

And she… was part of it now.

Ghost didn’t say anything else, but she could feel his eyes on her. Like he was taking notes. Calculating.

She knew what that look meant.

She was being measured.

And Jax, whether he realized it or not, was letting her in deeper than ever before.

Taylor lowered herself into the leather chair across from Jax’s desk, trying to seem casual—even though she could feel Ghost’s eyes tracking every breath she took.

It felt like a test.

Not a conversation. Not a check-in.

A test.

Like both men were silently assessing what they were really working with when it came to her.

She crossed one leg over the other slowly, deliberately. Ghost didn’t flinch, but she didn’t miss the subtle way his posture shifted—he was paying attention. And not just to her clothes or her tone. He was watching her energy. Her control. The performance.

Jax didn’t say anything for a beat. He just stared at her like he was trying to figure out if she was bored, impressed, or moments away from setting his office on fire.

Honestly?

She wasn’t sure herself.

Because Ghost might’ve been worried about her causing drama or stirring s**t she couldn’t clean up—but all Taylor could think about, as Jax leaned forward and lit another cigarette with that cocky, slow precision, was dragging him out of that chair and onto the desk.

Right here.

Right now.

That chair she was in suddenly felt too warm. Too tight. The scent of smoke, leather, and Jax filled her lungs in a way that made her thighs press together automatically. She swallowed hard and tried to keep her gaze steady.

“Something funny, princess?” Ghost asked, his voice dry, low.

She blinked, snapping out of it.

Had she been smirking?

“Not funny,” she said, clearing her throat, “Just… thinking.”

“Careful with that,” he replied. “Thinking gets people in trouble around here.”

Jax blew out a slow stream of smoke, eyes flicking between them. “Let her think, Ghost. She needs to learn how to survive this place.”

Taylor leaned back, refusing to let either of them see the chaos running wild inside her head. She was supposed to be proving she belonged. That she could handle the heat.

And all she could think about was how to get her hands on Jax again.

So maybe Ghost was right to watch her so closely.

Maybe she was trouble.

But if she was, Jax only had himself to blame for lighting the fuse.

Ghost didn’t lean back like a man finished with the conversation.

No, he leaned in.

Closer. Slower. Observing her the way someone might watch a spark dance too close to gasoline.

Taylor held his stare, refusing to shrink, even though every nerve in her body screamed he saw right through her. He wasn’t just measuring her worth to the club or to Jax. He was reading the shift in the air—reading her like a threat and an open book at the same time.

Then the corner of his mouth twitched. Not quite a smile. More like amusement with teeth.

“Mm,” he muttered, straightening up. “You’re trouble.”

His eyes cut to Jax, then back to her. “In more ways than one.”

Taylor didn’t blink. She just tilted her head, lips parted like she was about to reply—but Ghost didn’t give her the chance. He was already turning toward the door.

“Try not to burn the place down while I’m gone,” he tossed over his shoulder before disappearing into the hallway.

The door shut behind him with a soft click.

And just like that, the room felt smaller.

Quieter.

Hotter.

Jax watched her from behind his desk, cigarette smoldering between his fingers, his gaze heavy enough to crush the breath in her lungs.

“You gonna sit there looking at me like that all day, darling?” he asked, voice low, thick, dragging over her skin like a touch.

She exhaled slowly, legs uncrossing as she stood, walking around his desk with dangerous calm.

“Ghost’s right,” she said, mouth barely above a whisper. “I am trouble.”

Jax’s smile curved sharp at the edges. “Good.”

Taylor didn’t wait for him to reach for her.

She came around the desk slowly, fingers trailing along the edge, her eyes locked on his like a dare. The smoke from his cigarette curled between them, sharp and earthy, mixing with the tension already thick in the room.

God, she shouldn’t be this turned on by the sight of him like this. Relaxed, but never soft. That dangerous glint in his eyes, like he already knew exactly how far she was willing to go—and that he was going to make her prove it.

He leaned back in his chair, legs spread just enough to send her pulse racing.

“You planning on using your words,” Jax said, voice low, rough, “or something else to tell me what you want?”

She reached for the cigarette between his fingers and took it. Didn’t smoke it—just let it burn between her fingers, like she needed the heat to ground her. Her other hand slid to his shoulder, pushing lightly until he sat still and silent beneath her.

“You already know what I want,” she murmured, lips ghosting over his jaw. “You’ve always known.”

He growled low, the sound vibrating through her as his hands found her hips. He didn’t pull her down—not yet. Just held her like a man choosing when to lose control.

And she let him choose.

Because that’s how it always worked with Jax. Until it didn’t.

When he finally dragged her into his lap, she gasped—loud enough for the office walls to hear. Loud enough that the guards outside probably shared a look.

And definitely loud enough that Ghost, wherever he was now, would know exactly what she was doing in this office.

She didn’t care.

Let them hear.

Let them know she was his.

His trouble. His spark. His fire.

And she was going to burn through this man until there was no denying it.

Taylor let the cigarette hover for a moment, her eyes fixed on Jax like a challenge. Then she leaned over and crushed it in the ashtray, the final exhale of smoke curling around her face like a halo made of sin.

No hesitation. No second thoughts.

She dropped to her knees between his legs like she belonged there—which, in this moment, she did. Not because he told her to. But because she chose to.

Jax’s jaw clenched. His hands gripped the arms of the chair like he was already fighting the loss of control she was about to drag out of him.

“You going to stop me?” she asked, voice silk and fire.

He didn’t answer.

Didn’t have to.

The groan that rumbled out of him when her hands slid up his thighs said enough. Said everything. She made sure he felt her heat, her mouth, her need. Made sure it was clear: she wasn’t just his. He was hers too.

And when his head tipped back, his breath coming out in sharp, broken sounds—ones she didn’t bother hiding, ones she wanted everyone to hear—Taylor smiled.

Let them listen.

Let them know.

This wasn’t just about s*x or power or possession.

It was about making sure no one in this compound ever questioned what they were to each other again.

She rose slowly after, lips swollen, eyes gleaming with wicked satisfaction, and dragged herself onto his lap, tucking herself into his chest like she hadn’t just undone him at his desk.

Jax stared down at her like she was made of fire and danger—and like he wanted to get burned again.

“Remind me to never underestimate you again,” he muttered, voice rough, reverent.

Taylor smirked against his throat. “You’ll forget,” she whispered. “And I’ll enjoy reminding you.”

She barely had time to get comfortable on his lap before Jax shifted beneath her—gripping her thighs, lifting her effortlessly, and setting her down across his desk. Her back hit the wood with a thud softened by the papers beneath her, legs parting instinctively at the sheer command in his eyes.

“I’m not finished,” he growled, dragging her closer.

“Clearly,” she breathed, already breathless, already burning.

And then his mouth was on her.

She gasped, fingers clawing at the edge of the desk, her moans echoing off the walls like a sinful anthem. Jax wasn’t gentle, wasn’t sweet—he was thorough, relentless. Like her pleasure was a battle he had every intention of winning.

And she was losing herself to it. Her body arched off the desk, head tilted back, lips parted as the high took her by storm.

She was right there, undone in the most wicked, glorious way—

When the door creaked open.

“Meeting’s in fifteen,” came Ghost’s voice, dry as a desert, completely unfazed. “We leave in ten.”

Jax didn’t stop.

Didn’t even pause.

Ghost lingered just long enough to catch the full effect—the sight of Taylor trembling, wrecked, her release crashing through her as her mouth parted in a silent cry.

He stepped back out with a mutter, “You’re both trouble.”

Jax finally rose, his mouth glistening with proof of what he’d done to her, eyes blazing with satisfaction. He leaned over, kissed her hard—deep and claiming.

Then he grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair, cast one last look at her ruined on his desk, and said, “Lock the door behind me.”

And then he was gone.

With Ghost.

And Taylor was left breathless, aching, and completely owned.

But more importantly—so was he.

Taylor and Dani sprawled across Jax's bed, pillows tucked behind their backs, feet tangled at the end as they faced each other, laughing quietly. The bedroom was dim, cozy, and surprisingly calm compared to the chaos of the compound. This felt like a safe place for just a moment.

"I still can't believe you did that in his office," Dani teased, nudging Taylor's knee.

Taylor groaned, burying her face in her hands. "Don't remind me. Ghost walked in on us. Do you know how mortifying that is?"

Dani snorted. "Mortifying for you. Ghost probably wrote it down in his mental notebook titled: 'Another Day in the Life of Jax Maddox.'"

Taylor peeked between her fingers. "He saw me, Dani. In a moment no one else should see me like that."

"Sparkles, if it helps, Ghost has seen it all. Literally. That man could walk into a hurricane and light a cigarette without blinking. Trust me, you're not the wildest thing he's walked in on."

Taylor rolled her eyes but smiled. "Still. I don’t want him thinking I’m some club groupie or worse."

"He won’t. We don’t judge here, Taylor. This place runs on music, booze, s*x, and adrenaline. We’re not exactly a convent. But we respect what’s ours. And you? You’re Jax’s now. That makes you ours too."

There was a pause. Comfortable. Safe.

Then Dani smirked, rolling off the bed. "I’m getting us a glass of wine. We’re talking about everything until your man walks through that door and ruins the moment."

Taylor laughed. "Bring the bottle. We’ll need it."

By the time Dani returned with two glasses and a half-full bottle, Taylor had kicked off her shoes and was curled back into the pillows. They chatted—about everything. Jax, Mason, Ghost, the club. The strange rhythm of this life Taylor was slowly adjusting to.

The door opened with that same casual confidence that always preceded Jax—slow, deliberate, like the room already belonged to him. He strolled in, eyes zeroing in on her as if Dani wasn’t even there.

“I need to feel you,” he said, voice low and rough like gravel, like it had been sitting in his chest for hours just waiting to be spoken.

Taylor’s face flushed immediately. Not from the need—God, that was already coursing through her like fire—but from the memory of earlier.

She sat up straighter, glancing quickly at Dani who smirked and took that as her cue. “I’ll get out of your way,” Dani said lightly, sliding off the bed and grabbing the now half-empty wine bottle on her way to the door. “Use protection—oh wait.” She winked, then slipped out before Taylor could throw something at her.

When the door clicked shut, Taylor turned to Jax, her expression half scandalized, half amused. “I can’t believe Ghost saw me like that.”

Jax leaned against the door for a beat, watching her with an unreadable look before walking toward her. “Ghost has seen worse,” he said simply, his voice softening just enough to take the edge off her panic. “You don’t need to let it get to you.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Worse? Like what, a full-on orgy in the kitchen?”

He smirked as he sat on the edge of the bed, his hand reaching out to tuck her hair behind her ear. “That wouldn’t even make top ten.”

She groaned, burying her face in her hands for a second. “This is mortifying.”

“You’re mine,” he said, voice firm now, fingers lifting her chin until she met his gaze. “They all know it. And if Ghost walks in again? He’ll handle it like he always does—by walking right back out.”

“But still—”

“Taylor,” he cut her off gently, “this life? It’s loud. It’s messy. There’s no such thing as privacy, not really. I told you—this world’s not clean and polite.” He paused. “And I’ll warn you now—it might happen again. You ready for that?”

She swallowed, heart pounding. But she didn’t look away.

“If it means being with you?” she said. “Then yeah, I’ll deal with it.”

His lips curved slightly—not quite a smile, but the kind of look that made her stomach flip.

“Good,” he muttered. “Because I’m about to make you loud enough to wake the whole damn place.”

Taylor barely had time to catch her breath before Jax’s hands were on her—strong, sure, and completely unapologetic. He guided her back onto the bed, his mouth brushing hers with maddening control, not a kiss yet, but a warning of what was coming.

“You know what Dani said before she walked out?” he murmured against her lips.

She shook her head, eyes already glassy with anticipation.

“She joked about using protection.” His lips ghosted down her neck, words dragging fire across her skin. “But that’s not happening. Not now. Not ever. You’re mine, Taylor. I want nothing between us. I need to feel you. All of you.”

Her pulse kicked hard, breath catching as her legs parted instinctively, her whole body reacting to that rough promise.

He didn’t wait for permission—because he already had it. The way she clung to him, the way her hips lifted to meet his, the way her fingers tangled in the hem of his shirt—she was begging for it without words.

Clothes came off in a blur of heat and hands, their mouths crashing like a storm too long held back. He moved with intention, every touch branding her, every kiss staking a claim. He didn’t just want her pleasure—he demanded it. Again and again.

And Taylor? She gave it freely.

Not because he asked.

Because her body didn’t know how not to anymore.

Because somehow, even with the chaos, the threats, and the lack of boundaries—this man made her feel more alive than anything ever had.

Her hands gripped his shoulders as he pushed deeper, rough and relentless, the tension between them snapping loose like a live wire. She cried out his name and felt him smirk against her skin—like he lived for that sound.

And maybe… maybe he did.

Because when she shattered beneath him, shaking and spent, Jax didn’t move right away.

He just looked at her.

And she saw it again—the thing he’d never say out loud.

The thing she was starting to feel, too.