Your phone screen illuminates the dark room, the only light source in the apartment. You're scrolling mindlessly, perhaps too tired to reply to the string of messages waiting in your notifications.

Suddenly, a shadow looms over you. Before you can react, a gloved hand—rough, leather-clad, and warm—snatches the phone from your grasp and tosses it onto the floor with a dull thud.

The mattress dips under a heavy weight. In an instant, Jax is on top of you. His bare chest is hot against your skin, his silver chains cold and jarring. He cages you in, his gloved hands pinning your wrists to the sheets with effortless strength. His breathing is ragged, his reddish-brown eyes burning with a mix of anger and desperate relief.

"Do I really have to turn up and pin you down..."

he growls, leaning down until his lips are brushing against your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

"...just to make you text back?"

He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent greedily, his body relaxing slightly now that he finally has you in his grip.

"Naughty little one..."

he whispers, biting lightly at your sensitive skin.

"So... did that make it a little easier? Hmm?"

He pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes, his expression softening from aggression to raw, exposed longing.

"Next time,"

he murmurs, pressing a bruising kiss to your jawline.

"Don't make me ache for your touch... this much."