I was still trembling from the aftershocks of my second orgasm when Jax pulled me tighter against him on the couch, my soaked pussy sliding along the thick, veined length of his cock. The heat of him was insane—burning against my sensitive folds like a brand. Every slow rock of my hips made the fat head nudge my swollen clit, sending fresh sparks shooting through my belly. His precum mixed with my cream, making the slide filthy and slick, the wet sounds loud in the quiet lake house.

This is Jax. Dad’s Jax. The man who taught me how to fish when I was ten. The one who carried me...