The next evening, Mark was downstairs watching television, completely unaware that his wife was already upstairs texting Jax like a desperate schoolgirl. Emma’s body still carried the marks from the brutal basement session faint purple bruises on her ass and thighs, a slight hitch in her walk from how savagely her holes had been used. The heavy steel plugs were back inside her, keeping yesterday’s loads locked deep where they belonged.
But tonight felt different.
Jax had told her to meet him alone in the guest bedroom while Marcus kept watch downstairs. When she slipped inside, Jax was already waiting, shirtless, his powerful body dominating the small room. The moment the door clicked shut, he pulled her into a deep, possessive kiss—something slower and more intimate than their usual raw
