Desperate

Oliver and I have been step-siblings since I was twelve, when his dad married my mom. He’s five years older than me and never really paid me much attention. We weren’t exactly close.

He had his own group of friends, his own world, and now, eight years after our parents tied the knot, he had a career and a revolving door of girlfriends.

To me, Oliver was just a distant stepbrother. He came as part of the package when I got a new stepdad, and honestly, I was okay with keeping him at arm’s length.

He didn’t interest me, just as I didn’t interest him.

But I can’t say the same about his best friend, Jax.

It all started at a party. It seems like all the best stories—especially the romantic ones—begin at a party.

My friend Laura was hosting it at her sorority house, and naturally, I was on the guest list.

At first, like any good, responsible girl, I was hesitant to go.

“I’m not sure it’s a good idea,” I told Laura when we were hanging out at the beach a few days before the party.

“You never think any party is a good idea,” she shot back.

She was right. Parties were a magnet for trouble, and I did my best to avoid that.

“I just don’t think I’ll have fun. It’s not my thing,” I said.

But Laura was persistent. Maybe it was the warm sun, or the soothing sound of the waves, but eventually, I agreed to go.

So there I was, dressed in tight jeans and a top, my dark hair a cascade of curls down my back, my eyes smoky and intense.

I knew I looked pretty tame compared to the fashion choices of today’s “It Girls.” But to me, I felt like I’d been transformed into someone I wasn’t.

Laura thought I looked great when I stopped by earlier to help her with the final preparations for the frat party.

“Seriously, Ver,” she said, shaking her head at me, “you need to stop being so self-conscious.”

“I never said I was,” I shot back, “I just didn’t want to go to the party.”

“Well, it’s too late for that now.” She slung her arm around my shoulders, a wicked grin on her face. “I can’t wait to see you let loose, get a little drunk, and maybe even find a hot guy to make out with.”

A few hours later, the place was packed.

From high school juniors to thirty-somethings looking for a wife, the house was filled to the brim in no time.

This wasn’t my scene. I guess I was too much of a good girl for this kind of action.

I wanted to have a boyfriend, to be in love before I went through all the trouble of kissing, fooling around, making love, and all that.

Laura, unlike me, was happily drunk before midnight and had found her guy for the night: a cute dude named Brody who looked like a Ken doll.

But I don’t judge. If I did, I wouldn’t be friends with Laura.

By midnight, I was ready to go home. People were starting to get sloppy, and I felt out of place and silly with my cup of water instead of vodka.

I made my way through the crowd to the kitchen, where almost all the liquor bottles were empty. I wanted to find some more water before I left.

Laura was already locked in her room with her Ken doll, so I didn’t bother saying goodbye.

“Damn,” I muttered when I couldn’t find any water bottles.

I searched among the empty bottles, fending off tipsy guys who thought they had a shot with me, until I finally found a half-empty water bottle.

I poured the precious liquid into my cup and downed it without a second thought.

I didn’t realize it was actually some kind of alcoholic drink until it was too late. By the time I registered what I’d just swallowed, the liquor was already burning its way down my throat.

It was too late to spit it out.

I was drunk as hell in about five minutes, proving that I was a lightweight.

In my tipsy haze, I grabbed some more booze and staggered back into the crowd to dance, gulping down the bitter liquid like it was the sweetest nectar.

If it was even possible, I got drunker and drunker. I was on the verge of blacking out when I heard a familiar voice say, “Veronica?”

I turned around—almost falling over in the process—and saw none other than Jax Cole, Oliver’s best friend.

I’d met Jax a few times before when Oliver brought him home. I hadn’t seen him for months until the party.

Even though I was far from sober, I still managed to appreciate how good-looking he was.

He was over six feet tall with broad shoulders and muscles that rippled under his shirt. He was devastatingly handsome and sexy.

His dark hair was a tousled mess that gave him that irresistible just-rolled-out-of-bed look. His eyes were a striking shade of midnight blue, as piercing as ever.

He was gorgeous, the perfect specimen. Every girl in the house, sober or not, would agree.

Jax Cole, the heartthrob, was standing right in front of me. He was sober, looking handsome in his jeans and tee, and seemed surprised to see me.

I would’ve been surprised too, seeing someone like me at a party.

A bookworm like me had no business partying, especially not in a sorority house.

But there I was, with a bottle of booze in my hand, and the promise of my first hangover waiting for me in the morning.

And there he was. My surprise at seeing him was totally misplaced.

Jax wasn’t exactly a party animal, but seeing him at a party was more understandable, given his good looks and the way girls swooned over him.

I blame the alcohol for my dropped jaw and wide eyes at the sight of him.

Then, I blurted out, “Oh my God, it’s you, Jesus!”

Yes. I put both God and Jesus in the same sentence and called him Jesus, as if I hadn’t known him for years.

Later, when I remembered this, I would recall him cracking a small smile. “I’ve been called a lot of names, but Jesus is a first.”

I was too drunk to feel embarrassed. Instead, I just giggled and said, “Oopsie. Got ya wrong, Jax.”

I wasn’t making any sense.

He finally seemed to realize I was drunk.

“You’re drunk,” he said, amused.

Took you long enough, Captain Obvious, I thought, giggling again, and asked, “Why’re ya here?”

Apparently, alcohol turned my speech into that of a toddler.

“I could ask you the same question,” he said, grinning a little.

In that moment, because I wasn’t thinking straight, I dropped my bottle and grabbed his hands.

“Dance with me!” I demanded and started moving to the beat of some trance track. It sounded like a David Guetta song, but I couldn’t be sure.

“Veronica, I think you should sit down,” Jax said, not going along with my plan.

My stumble a moment later confirmed his belief in my inability to stand straight, and he wrapped his strong arm around my waist to keep me from falling.

Through my drunken haze, I could feel the warmth of his arm through my top, and it gave me a tingly feeling.

“I wanna dance,” I whined. Instead of complying, I wrapped my arms around his neck.

I’d worn heels, something Laura convinced me to do, and so I managed to reach his chin, when usually the top of my head would barely reach his Adam’s apple.

Jax chuckled in his deep voice, sending a shiver down my spine. “I really don’t think that's a good idea in your current state.”

My blurry eyes met his and, as if possessed, I batted my lashes like a flirt.

“Please?” I asked in a husky voice. Needless to say, I’d never used that voice before.

I don’t know if I imagined it or not, but I think his eyes glazed over for a moment. Maybe I was actually affecting him, I wouldn’t know.

Sure, I looked great that night, but he had girls lining up for his attention and a lot of them were extremely beautiful.

Eventually he sighed in defeat. “You won’t go unless we dance, will you?”

Grinning, maybe too widely, I pressed myself against his strong, muscular body. “Nope.”

Luckily, my mother had put me in dancing lessons for about ten years until I was fifteen—when I insisted on stopping because it wasn’t fun anymore—so I wasn’t a terrible dancer.

In fact, I thought as I moved my body to the music along with Jax’s, I was pretty good.

Jax was in a league of his own, so it wasn’t hard to follow his lead anyway, but I was good too.

When his hands brushed my bottom once, I suddenly noticed just how close we were. I realized that I had a handsome twenty-five-year-old man in my arms, and that I was pretty turned on.

Celibacy would do that to a woman. Not that I was celibate by choice; I’d just never found an opportunity to lose my virginity or scream at someone to “take me now!”

The air around us thickened, and my skin felt tight, my stomach filled with knots. My breathing grew heavy, and all of a sudden, I wasn’t so much drunk as aroused.

I wanted him, and I wanted him now. It didn’t matter that he was Jax fucking Cole. All that mattered was that he was irresistible, and I was starving.

I pressed myself even closer to him and saw his blue eyes narrow a little. His arms tightened around me, and we stopped swaying to the music—or rather—he stopped.

I wanted to keep going, but his tense arms kept me in place.

“Veronica,” he said, my name sounding like a caress coming from his mouth, “you don’t want this.”

“Jax…” I practically purred—purred! And when one of his hands brushed my butt again and he pressed me even closer, I let out a soft moan.

“You’re drunk,” he whispered harshly into my ear, his warm breath tickling my sensitive earlobe. “I won’t take advantage of you.”

But I wanted him to take advantage of me. Dear God, I don’t think I wanted anything more, ever.

“Please, Jax,” I whispered desperately. He was so close, so strong, and male and I wanted to devour him.

I was sexually starved, and he was like a juicy steak. Or maybe well-done. He struck me as well-done.

Jax didn’t budge for what felt like an eternity, and I was growing restless with his stubborn self-control.

So, to provoke a reaction, I pressed my hips against his, and to my delight, felt his readiness for me.

He jerked, his grip on me tightening, and he practically growled, “You’re Oliver’s little sister.”

“Please Jax,” I pleaded, “I need you.”

I’d only met Jax Cole about ten times in the eight years I’d known Oliver.

We’d never really talked or interacted much, not even after I’d grown up and become a woman.

Sure, he was incredibly attractive, I couldn’t deny that. And of course, like any healthy woman, I found him irresistible.

But I never gave him much attention because I thought he was out of my league, someone I could never have, from a world far beyond mine.

And so, I’d never imagined I would find myself pressed against him, desperate for him and his irresistible body. Yet here I was, practically offering myself to him on a silver platter.

And he took the offer.

Something must’ve clicked in his mind because he didn’t seem to care about anything anymore as he pressed his lips to mine.

I moaned, aroused, and opened my mouth for his tongue to explore. I shivered at the intimate touch, and in response, one of his hands grabbed my hair while the other held my butt.

Before I knew it, we were moving, and my back hit the wall. Trapped by his larger frame, I clung to him, my hand in his hair, and held onto his muscular shoulder.

He growled into my mouth, and suddenly the clothes between us were too much. I wanted nothing between his skin and mine.

I wanted to touch and taste every inch of him.

Apparently, he picked up on my thoughts because the next thing I knew, Jax was leading us to an empty bedroom and practically threw me onto the bed.

In a swift move, he took off his shirt, and in the dim light of the room, I admired the view.

His chest was perfectly sculpted; toned, ripped muscles beneath smooth, golden skin with a trail of dark hair disappearing into his jeans.

His abs teased me, begging for my touch, and my mouth watered, it took all my willpower not to drool like a lovesick teenager.

Then his stunning body was on top of me, pressing me into the mattress, and I was covered in hot, warm skin I wanted to devour.

His mouth was on mine, and for a moment, I realized he tasted of a man in his prime, hot and delicious, and faintly of beer.

Apparently, I wasn’t the only one drinking tonight, and it made his surrender more understandable. Alcohol can break the will of even the most stubborn man.

The moment of clarity was fleeting, though. I was aware of myself pushing my top up and off my body, and then unbuttoning my jeans.

He helped me slide them off, along with my boots, and then unbuckled his belt and unzipped his jeans and pushed them away in one quick move along with his boxers.

The only thing that separated our bodies were my bra and panties, which he removed a second later, and then his hands were on my breasts and my mouth met his again in a passionate kiss.

His lips left mine and his blue eyes glowed in the dimness as they locked on my own for a moment.

He started trailing kisses down my jaw, my chin, my neck, where I moaned since this spot is quite sensitive.

There he suckled on my skin, leaving a mark no doubt, and continued down my chest where he simply buried his face, taking a deep breath in, as if savoring my scent.

Before I knew it, he was between my legs, pushing my thighs apart with his strong arms, and he was giving me a slow, sensual lick that made my eyes roll.

He lost patience and mercilessly sucked and nipped at my clit, even pushed his tongue into me, and I lost control.

My body convulsed at the intense sensations that erupted in my abdomen and when he pushed a finger inside, I screamed, orgasm exploding from within.

It was the first time I’d come by the hands of someone else—I’d come in the past when I’d touch myself—but this was the first time that it was so intense, so powerful.

I didn’t know if it was because I was finally breaking my long dry spell or if it was a secret talent of Jax. Maybe it was both.

He tasted me and when he finished, he slid back up my body like a snake and kissed me passionately.

The aftershocks of the powerful orgasm still rocked my body and only intensified when I felt his hard erection pressing against my inner thigh.

An excited moan escaped my mouth and it seemed to bring him back to reality. He suddenly broke away from my lips and stared down at me with those piercing eyes of his.

“Okay?” he asked roughly, his voice low and growly. He tensed, making his muscles stand out even more. It made my mouth water all over again.

Dazed and unable to speak, I simply nodded.

He decided that maybe I was a little sober after all and the next thing I knew, he was gripping my thighs and roughly, almost brutally thrusting inside of me, all the way.

Screaming with the sudden pain, tears welled in my eyes.

He growled something that sounded like “Fuck!” and was about to pull out when I grasped his shoulders and held him in place.

I let my body adjust to the uncomfortable fullness I felt, and once the pain subsided a little, I looked up at him and whispered, “Don’t stop.”

I don’t know if he realized that he’d just taken my virginity.

In fact, I think he’d just thought that I needed time to adjust to his impressively large cock.

Believe me, while I hadn’t been experienced, I’d seen enough penises on the internet to know his size for what it was; thick and long.

He let go and before I knew it, he was moving in and out of me with a force that was both painful and pleasurable.

I clung to his shoulders, moving my body in rhythm with his, and braced myself for the wild ride.

Soon, the pain faded away, replaced by a pleasure so intense that I couldn’t help but moan loudly. I was surprised no one came to check on us.

One of Jax’s hands was gripping my breast while the other held onto the bed frame above my head. He moved so quickly, I was amazed he didn’t cramp up.

But considering his obvious physical fitness and likely regular sexual activity, it wasn’t all that surprising. The man was a picture of stamina and endurance.

Suddenly, he flipped us over. Now he was sitting and I was on top of him. He moved up into me, doing all the work, while I clung to him like ivy.

He buried his face in my neck, his teeth grazing my skin as he moved faster and faster, causing my inner muscles to tighten around his large, heavy shaft.

His next growl sent a shiver down my spine as I felt it vibrate through his chest. I moaned as my abdomen tightened again. I was about to climax again, and I couldn’t wait.

“Jax!” I cried out as I finally reached my peak, the pleasure splitting me in two and making me see stars.

I felt him tense, and then he thrust one last time so deep that I swear, I felt the tip of his cock touch my womb. He shuddered as he released himself inside me.

We were both panting when he pulled away from my neck and looked at me with a look of wonder in his eyes.

Still inside me, he leaned in and kissed me slowly, seductively, and I melted into him.

Eventually he pulled out and we both lay on the bed, trying to catch our breaths. Before long, I felt a wave of dizziness wash over me, and soon enough, I fell asleep.

Waking up in an unfamiliar room with Jax Cole sleeping next to you, a splitting headache, and the sun shining too brightly in your eyes is not a good time.

Especially when you can’t remember what happened the night before.

And then when all the memories come rushing back at once.

In short: it’s not a good time.

Despite my throbbing head, I managed to get out of bed and find my clothes.

I found them crumpled on the floor and got dressed as quietly as I could. Then I looked at myself in the full-length mirror in the room.

I looked a mess, with my black hair a tangled mess of curls, my dark brown eyes bloodshot, my lips red and swollen, and my skin paler than usual.

Then I saw the love bites on my neck and body and I froze.

As that realization hit me, another one followed: I’m no longer a virgin. Surprisingly, I wasn’t upset about losing my virginity. In fact, I’d been waiting for the right opportunity.

But the fact that I did it while drunk, with Jax Cole of all people… Let’s just say I was a bit of a mess.

Trying to calm myself down, I turned away from the mirror and looked at Jax’s sleeping form.

And now, in the bright morning light, I could see he had a tattoo of a black-and-gold Hindu sun in the middle of his back.

He was beautiful. And he had sex with me.

Me, the girl the school’s “It Girl” thought would be a virgin for at least another ten years.

I’d actually had sex.

Feeling triumphant, I started to grin, but then my headache reminded me of its presence and my grin quickly turned into a wince.

Then I noticed the red spots on the mattress. My virgin blood looked dark against the white sheets, and it only reinforced my sudden happiness.

I really did have sex with Jax Cole!

But it didn’t matter. I was twenty now, and he was twenty-five. The five-year age gap didn’t matter anymore.

We were both adults, and in a few months I would be twenty-one, which meant I could legally get drunk.

Besides, it was an act of mutual consent, lust, and passion, and there was nothing wrong with it.

Many girls lose their virginity in a fling. I knew Laura did; she told me about having sex with a thirty-year-old guy in his apartment when she was seventeen.

Then, of course, she told me how much it sucked but eventually got over it. She said it was the best way to lose your virginity. I didn’t take her advice.

Until that moment with Jax, that is.

Feeling happier and more excited than I thought I would be after having sex for the first time, I took one last look at sleeping Jax and tiptoed out of the room, closing the door gently behind me.

I went home, feeling like I was about to start a new chapter in my life.