Chapter Six: The Crash (Rewritten)

The air in the ballroom had changed.

The chandeliers above still glowed soft gold, but the room felt darker somehow—warmer. Heavy. Like the space had inhaled her secrets and was holding its breath, waiting.

Claire could barely move. Her thighs were slick, her breathing unsteady. Her body—trapped, trembling, traitorous—was pressed against Jaxon, still facing away from him, locked in a slow, grinding rhythm that no longer resembled dancing.

This was something else now.

His thick cock was hard against her ass. And growing harder by the minute.

And she hadn’t stopped him.

She hadn’t even tried.

Jaxon’s arms wrapped around her from behind. His hand gripped her lower stomach, holding her in place while his hips moved slowly, deliberately, against her backside. Each roll of his hips made her entire body jolt—each graze of his hardness sent a shockwave through her core.

“You feel how hard I am for you?” he whispered in her ear. “This is what you’ve done to me.”

Claire whimpered, letting her head drop back onto his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut.

She couldn’t deny it.

Her panties were soaked.

She could feel herself pulsing—throbbing—every time his hips pressed forward.

“You’re so fucking soft,” he murmured, dragging his nose along the edge of her jaw. “So hot in my hands.”

His free hand slid slowly up her side, his palm large, warm, and searching. He didn’t ask. He didn’t check. He just explored her body like he already owned it.

He skimmed the side of her breast—just enough to make her arch—then traced down again over her ribs and back to her waist.

Claire couldn’t stop shaking.

“God, Jaxon—”

“Shh. Let me feel you.”

And then—he leaned in.

His lips met her neck.

It wasn’t a kiss at first. More like a drag of heat. His mouth opened against her throat, then closed around her skin with a slow, sucking pull that made her knees nearly collapse.

“You taste so fucking good,” he growled, his tongue flicking at the hollow just under her jaw.

Her nails dug into his forearm.

He kissed lower. Slower. His mouth warm and wet against her skin, licking softly, then sucking—just hard enough to leave heat behind.

Claire moaned, head falling to the side, eyes glazed, lips parted.

“That’s it,” he whispered. “Give it to me. Let me hear what I’m doing to you.”

Her hips moved now—*with* him. He guided her easily, pulling her back into every grind of his cock, letting her feel the full pressure of his length rubbing against her soaked center, separated by too little fabric.

Her mind was gone.

Her thoughts were gone.

All that existed was the heat between her thighs and the way his mouth devoured her neck like he’d been starving for it.

“Your fiancé would hate this,” Jaxon whispered. “Seeing you like this. Needy. Soaked. Letting another man touch you everywhere.”

“I’m not cheating,” she panted, barely able to say the words.

“You’re letting me rub my cock into your ass while I suck on your neck,” he growled. “You’re dripping down your thighs. And you’re not stopping me.”

She whimpered again, her whole body shuddering. His mouth closed around the base of her neck and sucked hard, her breath catching in a strangled gasp.

“You’re jelly in my hands, Claire,” he said. “You want more. I can feel it.”

He wasn’t wrong.

Her body had stopped obeying her. Her hips rolled. Her head stayed slack against him. Her breathing came in stuttering moans every time his tongue traced her pulse or his cock ground slow and thick against her.

Then it happened.

His hand slid lower. Down her stomach. Down to the top of her thigh. His fingers hooked the hem of her dress and lifted—just an inch.

Not to touch.

Not yet.

But to threaten.

“You want to know what it feels like?” he breathed at her ear. “To have someone rip every last bit of control from you?”

“I shouldn’t…” she moaned. “I can’t…”

“You’re already there,” he whispered. “You just haven’t admitted it yet.”

Claire’s eyes fluttered open.

She reached down, grabbed his hand—*not to push it away,* just to hold it in place.

To keep it from going any further.

She turned her head slightly—cheek brushing his. Lips dangerously close.

“Not yet,” she whispered.

“I’ll wait,” he said, his voice wrecked and low. “But not long.”

His cock twitched against her. Huge. Demanding. Ready.

And still… they danced.

Slow. Filthy. Drenched in heat and guilt.

Her body was no longer hers.

It was his.

And they both knew—one more push, one more moan, one more flick of his tongue—

And she’d give him everything.

Chapter Seven: The First Kiss

Claire’s heart was slamming against her ribs.

Her thighs were soaked.

Her body was fire.

But still—somewhere inside—she held the line.

Held it with white knuckles and trembling hands.

“I don’t cheat,” she whispered, voice thin and hoarse.

She could still feel his breath on her neck. His cock pressed thick and unforgiving against her ass. His hands still wrapped around her stomach, one resting just below her breast, the other hooked at her hip.

She was falling apart in his arms—but still, she said it.

“I don’t cheat.”

Jaxon didn’t mock her. He didn’t smirk.

He just leaned closer.

“Then prove it,” he said, voice dark and steady.

She blinked.

“W-What?”

“I’m going to kiss you,” he said softly. “Once. Slow. Real. And if you don’t kiss me back—if you can keep still—then I’ll walk out of this ballroom and never touch you again.”

Her mouth opened. But no sound came out.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he went on. “Just… don’t move. Don’t kiss me back. If you can do that, I’ll believe you.”

Her whole body tensed. Her thighs clenched involuntarily. The idea of his mouth on hers sent a violent jolt through her core. But still—she nodded.

“Okay,” she breathed. “Fine.”

Jaxon said nothing. He just slid his hands up her arms—slow, warm, possessive—and turned her to face him.

She gasped.

His eyes were heavy, dark, full of something that burned low and dangerous. His chest rose and fell in shallow breaths. He looked at her like he was about to devour her.

“Last chance to run,” he said.

She didn’t move.

His hand lifted, fingers curling gently under her jaw. Tilting her chin up. The pad of his thumb brushed her lower lip, and her knees almost buckled.

Then—he kissed her.

Not a peck. Not a tease.

A kiss.

Slow. Deep. His lips moved against hers like a man tasting something forbidden—something he’d dreamed of for too long and finally gotten.

Claire stood frozen at first. Her fingers curled into fists at her sides. Her lips stayed still. She tried—tried so damn hard—not to respond.

But his mouth… oh, God. The warmth. The pressure. The need.

She made it five seconds.

Maybe six.

And then her lips moved.

Soft at first. A shift. A tremble.

Then deeper.

Her hands rose to his chest. She gasped into his mouth—and he took it. His tongue slipped between her lips, slow and sure, tasting her. Claiming her.

She moaned.

And that was the end.

He growled—deep, raw, triumphant—and crushed her to him.

One arm locked tight around her waist. The other slid down.

Over the curve of her back.

Over the swell of her hips.

Down to her ass.

And then—he grabbed it.

Hard.

Claire broke from the kiss with a breathless gasp, eyes wide as his fingers squeezed tight around the firm, sculpted round of her ass.

“Fuck, Claire,” Jaxon growled. “This ass…”

He squeezed again. Both hands now. Full palms. Strong. Unapologetic. Like he was memorizing the weight and shape of her—pressing her against him so she could feel just how hard she had made him.

“You’ve got the tightest, sexiest ass I’ve ever touched,” he rasped, licking down her jaw. “You think I haven’t noticed it every time you bend over near me?”

She whimpered, helpless in his arms. Her arms were wrapped around his neck now, lips swollen, body pulsing.

“Jaxon—”

“No more pretending,” he growled. “You kissed me back. You want this. Don’t lie again.”

“I can’t—” she moaned, even as her hips rocked forward against his.

“You already did,” he whispered.

He kissed her neck again—open-mouthed, wet, filthy—and ground his cock against her one more time.

Claire clung to him, gasping. Her body was no longer fighting.

Her body belonged to him.

And there was no going back.

Chapter Eight: The Fall

The kiss had changed everything.

Claire wasn’t in control anymore.

Her fingers were tangled in Jaxon’s shirt, her lips bruised from his, her eyes half-lidded with lust as he held her flush to his body—his cock a hard, unrelenting presence between them.

But it wasn’t just the kiss.

It was the way he grabbed her.

His hands were on her ass again—firm, dominant, obsessive. He gripped both cheeks, squeezing like he was testing the limits of her flesh. She gasped, moaned, clung to him tighter.

“Fuck,” Jaxon groaned, squeezing again. “This ass. Claire, I can’t stop touching it.”

“You’re not… supposed to,” she whimpered, breathless.

That earned her a rough laugh.

“No?” he said, voice low. “Then you’d better take responsibility for what’s happening next.”

He squeezed harder—*harder*—fingers digging in, pulling her against his cock. The pressure was unbearable. She could feel every thick inch of him through his pants, pressed directly against her aching, soaking heat.

Her body convulsed, a pulse of slick wetness flooding her panties.

She gasped again, high and sharp, and Jaxon grinned against her neck.

“You’re dripping,” he growled. “You feel that? Soaked through. All from grinding that perfect little ass against my cock.”

And then—he did it.

He raised one hand. And slapped her ass.

Not hard. Not cruel. Just enough to make her jolt and yelp.

“Ah—!”

Her mouth dropped open, stunned. Her body arched into him involuntarily.

He didn’t give her a chance to recover.

His hand slid up to the back of her neck, gripped it, tilted her face back up to his—and he crashed into her mouth with his again.

But this time, it wasn’t slow.

It was wild.

It was devouring.

He kissed her like she was the last woman on earth, like he’d starve if he didn’t taste her, tongue plunging into her mouth, licking across hers, dragging her lips open wider as he took more and more.

Claire moaned into the kiss, her own tongue tangling with his, desperate and sloppy and wet.

It was wet. The kind of french kissing that left trails of saliva between them when they gasped for breath. That made her dizzy. That made her thighs clench with every flick of his tongue across hers.

His mouth was hot, hungry, needy.

And she matched him.

She kissed him back like she needed him to live. Moaning. Whimpering. Letting her tongue dance and twist and tangle with his, letting her hips begin to roll again—this time on her own.

She was grinding.

Slow at first. Small little circles of her hips into his cock.

But then deeper.

Harder.

Rubbing her aching, soaking pussy through her panties against the thick outline of his cock with a rhythm that screamed need.

“That’s it,” Jaxon growled against her lips, still kissing her between words. “Fucking ride me. Show me how bad you need it.”

Claire whimpered, her hips moving on their own now, chasing the friction, chasing that pressure, chasing the unbearable swell of pleasure building between her thighs.

She was panting into his mouth, wet lips parting only to pull him in deeper, tongues dancing, spit hot and shared, their kiss nothing but desperate, filthy need.

She was soaked.

And she felt it—that wave cresting.

The clenching deep inside her. The way her body stuttered forward.

“I—Jaxon—oh my God—”

“You’re close,” he whispered. “You’re gonna cum just from dancing on my cock, aren’t you?”

She nodded frantically, breath ragged, voice trembling.

“Don’t stop,” she gasped.

And he didn’t.

He grabbed her ass again. Hard. Held her tight and guided her movements—grinding her against him with strong hands, pressing her right where she needed it most.

“Come for me,” he said, biting her lip between kisses. “Let go.”

Claire was right there.

One more grind.

One more breath.

One more squeeze—

And she would fall.

Chapter Nine: The Ruin

Claire was shaking.

Her arms were locked around Jaxon’s neck. Her lips were swollen from kissing. Her body—flushed, soaked, throbbing—was grinding against him in desperate, urgent circles.

She was right there.

Seconds from coming.

Grinding her soaked panties against the thick, hard line of his cock, soaking through the front of his pants, moaning into his mouth like she couldn’t breathe without him.

“You’re gonna cum for me,” Jaxon whispered into her ear. “Grinding that tight little ass on another man’s cock… on the night before your wedding.”

Her eyes fluttered. She whimpered.

“Daniel couldn’t make you feel this desperate if he begged,” he growled. “I bet he doesn’t even know what this ass is capable of.”

And then—**he slapped her again**.

Harder this time.

Right across the round, toned swell of her perfect, fit ass.

“Oh—fuck!” she gasped.

Her body shattered.

It hit her like lightning.

Claire’s thighs clenched. Her hips jerked once, then twice. Her mouth dropped open as a strangled moan ripped from her throat.

“J-Jaxon—!”

He caught her.

Arms tight around her waist. Holding her up as her knees gave out. Her body pulsed and trembled violently, hips bucking against him as her orgasm tore through her—**the hardest, longest, most devastating release of her life.**

And they hadn’t even fucked.

“That’s it,” Jaxon murmured, holding her close. “Let it happen. Let it all go.”

She clung to him, breath catching in sobbing gasps against his neck. He kissed her temple. Her cheek. Her jaw. Then back to her lips—soft, slow, grounding kisses this time, guiding her down from the high.

“You okay?” he whispered.

She nodded, but her voice cracked.

“I… I didn’t mean to—”

“You meant every second of it,” he said, brushing a curl from her face. “And don’t you dare pretend otherwise.”

Her heart pounded. Guilt crept in.

But not as fast as the aftershocks still rolling through her.

She’d come.

Soaked through her panties. Still dressed. Still standing. And it had been the best orgasm of her life.

Daniel had never made her feel like this. Not even close.

She hated that thought. But it was true.

Jaxon let her legs steady under her again.

And then—he leaned in close, hand firm under her chin, lifting her gaze to his.

His voice dropped to something deeper. Firmer. Commanding.

“On your knees.”

Claire blinked.

Heat flashed through her like a second orgasm trying to be born.

“W-What?”

“Get on your knees for me, Claire,” he said, not louder—but stronger. “Now.”

She didn’t even think.

She dropped.

Smoothly. Silently. Onto the ballroom floor, the hem of her dress pooling around her knees. Her hands lowered to her thighs.

She looked up.

And there he was.

Jaxon. Towering over her. Eyes dark with hunger. Cock straining behind the front of his pants. Hands clenched at his sides like he was seconds from undoing his belt.

And Claire?

She had never felt more turned on.

She was trembling. Aching. Wet beyond reason.

And staring up at him like he was the only thing she’d ever worship again.

Chapter Ten: On Her Knees

She was still panting from the kiss.

Still dazed. Still high from the feel of his mouth crashing into hers—his tongue, his heat, the bruising pressure of his lips claiming what he wasn’t supposed to have.

But now… she was on her knees.

Claire.

The bride-to-be.

Kneeling.

Her palms rested on her thighs, her dress bunched around her, skin flushed, lips swollen, thighs trembling and soaked beneath satin. And before her stood Jaxon—towering, shirt rumpled, jaw tight, cock visibly outlined through the front of his pants.

And he was watching her like she was his prey.

“You know what happens next,” he said, voice low, rough. “Don’t you.”

She nodded, barely.

“Say it.”

“You want me to… take it out,” she whispered.

“*My cock.* Say it.”

Claire’s stomach flipped. Her face burned. But her pussy clenched so hard she could barely sit still.

“You want me to take out your cock.”

He stepped closer, towering over her now, the thick outline just inches from her lips.

“Good girl,” he murmured. “Go ahead.”

Her hands shook. She reached up slowly, hesitating at the waistband of his slacks.

“Jaxon…” she whispered. “This is really—this is cheating.”

“Yeah,” he said. “It is.”

“Daniel—”

“Is upstairs,” Jaxon cut in. “Sleeping like a good little groom while his fiancée kneels in front of me, wet and panting and about to wrap her fingers around a cock that’ll ruin her for anyone else.”

She whimpered.

“Say it,” he whispered. “Say what you’re doing.”

“I’m cheating on my fiancé,” she breathed. “I’m about to touch someone else’s cock.”

“Not someone else’s,” Jaxon growled. “*Mine.*”

She unfastened his pants. Slowly.

The zipper dragged down, exposing the waistband of his briefs. And beneath it—his cock strained, thick and heavy, begging to be freed.

She slid her hand in.

And then gasped.

“Oh my God,” she breathed, fingers trembling. “It’s… huge.”

“Pull it out.”

She did.

And her breath caught in her throat.

Eleven inches. Thick. Veiny. Glistening with precum. It arched slightly upward, so hard it twitched in the air. She held it in both hands instinctively—one at the base, the other near the middle—and still couldn’t cover all of it.

“Daniel isn’t like this,” Jaxon said, watching her face.

Claire didn’t answer.

She didn’t have to.

“Spit,” he said.

She looked up.

“On my cock. Get it wet.”

A shudder rolled down her spine.

She leaned forward slightly, eyes locked on his, and let a thick trail of spit fall from her tongue.

It landed across the head. Dripped down his shaft. Coated her fingers.

“Good fucking girl,” he muttered.

She started stroking.

Slow. Careful. Two hands moving in rhythm. Her grip was soft at first, testing. Exploring. The spit and precum made every stroke slick and lewd.

“You’re really doing it,” Jaxon growled. “Jerking off your fiancé’s best friend the night before your wedding.”

“I shouldn’t be,” she whispered, voice shaking. “But I can’t stop.”

“Because it feels better than anything he’s ever made you feel.”

She nodded slowly, pumping her hands up and down.

“And because you love knowing you’re cheating,” he added, teeth gritted.

Her breath caught.

She didn’t say yes. But her hands moved faster.

She stroked from base to tip, twisting slightly at the head, her thumb swiping over the thick drop of precum. Her small hands worked him with quiet, desperate precision.

“You’re gonna make me cum,” he warned, jaw tight.

“I want to,” she whispered. “I want to feel it.”

“Fuck, Claire…”

She worked him harder now. Guilt and heat swirled inside her.

But guilt wasn’t stopping her.

It was turning her on even more.

She was jerking off her fiancé’s best man. With two hands. On her knees. Knowing what it meant.

And she didn’t want it to end.

Chapter Eleven: The First Taste

She wasn’t thinking anymore.

Claire was on her knees in the middle of a grand ballroom—the night before her wedding—with another man’s cock in her hands.

Not just any man.

Her fiancé’s best friend.

Jaxon.

He stood above her, jaw clenched, his huge cock twitching between her hands, soaked with spit and precum, thick veins pulsing under her fingers. Her cheeks were flushed, her dress wrinkled, her thighs trembling with need.

And her panties?

Absolutely drenched.

“You're not just touching me anymore,” Jaxon growled, staring down at her. “You're about to put my cock in your mouth. Say it.”

Claire looked up, eyes glassy, breathing hard.

“I’m going to suck your cock,” she whispered. “Even though I’m engaged.”

“Say it like you mean it.”

“I’m going to suck your cock, Jaxon,” she said again, voice trembling. “Even though I’m cheating on Daniel.”

“Good fucking girl,” he muttered.

Her hands moved slower now, teasing. And then one slipped lower.

To his balls.

Her fingers explored them, hesitantly at first—cupping them, feeling the heat and weight of them against her palm.

They were huge. Heavy. Full.

Claire shivered.

“Jesus,” she whispered. “They’re… you’re so full.”

“I’ve been hard for you all night,” Jaxon said. “You’ve earned every drop.”

She licked her lips.

And then—**she leaned in.**

Her lips brushed the base of his shaft. Then the side. Then lower. She kissed his balls. Gently. Slowly. Like she was tasting something sacred. She licked one, then the other, her tongue dragging wet and warm across the skin while her hand kept stroking his shaft.

“That’s it,” Jaxon growled. “Get your mouth all over them. Worship them.”

Claire moaned.

And she didn’t even realize it at first—**her free hand had slipped beneath her dress.**

Her fingers found her soaked panties and pressed against her swollen clit, rubbing in slow circles as she licked and kissed and sucked at his balls.

“You’re touching yourself while licking another man’s cock,” Jaxon said darkly. “You’re so far gone, Claire.”

“I can’t stop,” she whispered, tongue swirling around him. “I don’t want to.”

She moved higher now.

Licked up the underside of his cock. Her tongue traced every thick vein. Her hand kept stroking, wetter now, gliding with filthy squelches from the spit and precum coating him.

Then—**her lips wrapped around the head.**

Soft. Wet. Warm.

Jaxon hissed through his teeth.

“That’s it,” he said. “Wrap those pretty lips around my cock. Let me hear you suck.”

Claire moaned and closed her mouth around him deeper, her tongue swirling under the head, her hand stroking what she couldn’t fit.

She sucked slow.

Loud. Wet. Dirty.

Each pull of her mouth made a lewd slurp echo in the ballroom. Her spit dripped down his shaft. Her lips made slick, squelching noises as she bobbed forward and back.

“Listen to yourself,” he said. “You sound like a filthy little slut.”

“I feel like one,” she gasped between sucks.

“Because you are,” he said, grabbing the back of her head lightly. “You’re a cheating little bride. And I haven’t even fucked you yet.”

Her pussy clenched hard around her fingers. She was rubbing herself faster now, lost in it.

And then—**she spit**.

Thick, heavy saliva dropped from her mouth straight onto the head of his cock and dripped down her fist.

“Keep going,” Jaxon growled. “Get it messy. I want your chin soaked.”

She obeyed.

She sucked harder. Sloppier. Her mouth opened wider to take more of him, spit spilling from the corners of her lips, strings of it connecting her tongue to the shaft when she pulled back to breathe.

She gagged lightly.

Moaned.

And went back down.

Wet. Noisy. Filthy. Worshipful.

“You're going to make me cum like this?” Jaxon grunted. “Before you even taste my cock down your throat?”

“Not yet,” she whispered, licking the shaft again. “I want more.”

“Then earn it.”

And she did.

She kept sucking. Stroking. Moaning.

One hand wrapped around his base. The other between her legs, fingers soaked, working herself as she knelt like a whimpering, cheating mess in the ballroom.

She was shaking again.

And she wasn’t even close to done.