Primal Contracts
Under the thrum of stadium lights long faded, Lena Voss gripped the steering wheel of her sleek black SUV, rain slicking the windshield like sweat on fevered skin. The scent of wet asphalt mingled with the faint leather polish inside the car, her pulse hammering in sync with the downpour.
She’d tracked Jax Harlan here, to the shadowed parking lot behind the arena, after his brutal debut game for the Thunderbolts. The kid had torched the field—six touchdowns, a rookie record—but now he was torching her patience. Peering through the wipers, she spotted him: Jax, all six-foot-four of coiled muscle and sun-bleached hair, pinned against a chain-link fence by some redheaded cheerleader type. His hands roamed her ass, skirt hiked up, her giggles cutting through the storm like cheap perfume.
Fuck this, Lena thought, her green eyes narrowing. She’d clawed her way to senior agent at Kane Sports Group, brokering deals for gridiron gods, and Jax was her golden ticket. But that contract? The one with the ironclad three-year no-penetrative-sex clause? He was testing it already.
Horn blaring, she swerved closer. Jax’s head snapped up, those ice-blue eyes locking on her. The girl bolted, heels splashing puddles. Jax straightened, jersey clinging to his ripped torso, smirking like he owned the night.
“Get in, Harlan. Now.” Her voice was steel, edged with the primal growl building in her chest.
He sauntered over, dripping defiance, and slid into the passenger seat. The cab filled with his scent—sweat, turf, and something raw, animalistic. “Agent Voss. Miss me already?”
“What was that? Day one on the roster, and you’re dry-humping the squad? Read the fine print, Jax. No slipping into warm holes. Not pussy, not ass. Oral only. Our perks handle the rest.”
He laughed, low and rough, thighs spreading wide in those tight pants. “Perks? Like those agency whores trained for neck, nuts, and rimjobs? I’m a quarterback, Lena. I call my own plays.”
She floored it, tires screeching. Tonight, she’d show him the primal cost of rebellion. 🔥
Jump to Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5
Chapter 1: The Iron Clause
Weeks earlier, the conference suite at Kane Sports Group hummed with tension. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the city sprawl, coffee bitter on Lena’s tongue as she eyed Jax Harlan across the polished oak table.
He lounged there, fresh from a college championship—broad shoulders straining his polo, blond waves tousled like he’d just rolled out of bed. Twenty-two, small-town farm boy turned phenom QB from Idaho plains. Stats? Forty passes a game, 95% completion. Scouts drooled over his arm cannon. Lena’s boss, Victor Kane, paced like a shark, silver hair gleaming under halogens.
Jax’s folks flanked him: burly dad Harlan Sr., smelling of engine grease from his auto shop; mom Clara, floral perfume clashing with her wary frown. Sophie’s pep talk echoed in Lena’s mind—her assistant, all curves and caramel waves, who’d prepped the pitch.
“Four percent on the contract, twenty on endorsements,” Victor boomed. “Skyhawks are front-runners. Ninety mil over five years. But the clause—three years clean. No breeding risks.”
Clara’s eyes sharpened. “What kinda nonsense? My boy’s single, focused. Condoms—”
“Break,” Lena cut in smooth, her pencil skirt hugging hips as she leaned forward. Jax’s gaze dipped to her cleavage, unapologetic. “Half our rookies tanked careers on baby mama drama. Tobey Vance? Eight kids, six moms. Career DOA. We protect investments. You get NFL Girls—our oral specialists. Neck work, ball worship, deep rimming. Keeps the edge off without the fallout.”
Jax’s jaw ticked, but his eyes burned primal hunger. “Rimming? Y’all serious?”
“Dead serious,” Victor grinned. “Slippery slope from ass to pussy. We know.”
Harlan Sr. grunted approval after stats rattled off. Clara hesitated, but Jax—after dismissing them to a lounge—locked eyes with Lena. “Your call, Voss. But if I sign, those perks better deliver.”
She slid the pen over, her manicured nails brushing his knuckles. Electric. “They will. We do.”
Ink dried. Deal sealed. But as Jax gripped her hand too long, Lena felt the primal pull. Chaos brewed.
Flash of Heat
Back at her downtown loft that night, Lena stripped the suit, steam from the shower fogging mirrors. Jax’s scent lingered in her mind—musk and promise. She touched herself lazily, fingers circling her slick heat, imagining his tongue instead. No. Boundaries. But the contract was primal insurance. For both of them.
Chapter 2: Post-Game Reckoning
Now, rain lashed the SUV as Lena drove to the team hotel, Jax brooding beside her. His thigh brushed hers accidentally—or not. Touch ignited sparks.
“That chick? Gone. But I need release, Lena. Primal shit after a win like that.”
She glanced over, his bulge evident. “Perks inbound. Mia—my assistant—coordinates. She’s sweet, but sucks like a vacuum. Rim specialist.”
He shifted, hand adjusting himself. “You coordinate too?”
“If needed.” Voice husky, she pulled into valet. Penthouse suite awaited, courtesy of endorsements already rolling.
Inside, dim lamps cast gold on king bed, champagne chilling. Jax stripped his jersey, abs rippling—tattoos snaking over pecs, primal wolves howling ink. Lena poured drinks, silk blouse clinging from humidity.
Door knocked. Mia entered, petite in lingerie, doe eyes and full lips. “Special delivery, boss.”
Jax grinned wolfish. But Lena lingered, watching as Mia dropped to knees. “Demonstrate, Mia. Neck first.”
Mia’s mouth engulfed his thickening length—gluck-gluck sounds wet, saliva dripping. Jax groaned, fingers in her hair. Scent of arousal thickened air, precum tangy on Mia’s tongue as she swirled.
“Balls now,” Lena directed, pulse racing. Mia lapped heavy sacks, sucking orbs, tongue tracing seams. Jax’s hips bucked, primal grunts escaping.
Then the main event. Mia spun him, cheeks spreading that muscled ass. Her tongue dove in—rimming deep, circling puckered hole. Jax howled, “Fuck, yes—deeper!” Wet slurps filled the room, her face buried, nose in his crack. Musky tang assaulted senses, his hole twitching under assault.
Lena watched, thighs clenching, her own heat weeping. Primal. Raw. 💋
Jax came hard, ropes painting Mia’s tits. But his eyes stayed on Lena. Hunger unmet.
Whispers in the Dark
Later, Mia gone, Jax cornered her against the balcony rail. City lights blurred. “Your turn to enforce, Voss? Felt you watching.”
She pushed back, but fire licked her veins. “Contract. Not personal.”
“Bullshit.” His breath hot on her neck.
Chapter 3: Training Grounds
Jump to Chapter 3
Dawn broke over the private gym Victor leased—rubber mats reeking of sweat, mirrors fogged from heavy breaths. Lena arrived for Jax’s “focus session,” part endorsement prep, part clause babysitting. He was already there, shorts low, pumping iron. Grunts echoed, veins popping on forearms like rivers.
“Morning stretch,” she said, yoga pants molding her ass. Jax eyed her, dropping barbell with clang.
“Stretch me then.” Cocky. Primal challenge.
She positioned him—legs wide, hands guiding hamstrings. His bulge nudged her belly. Tension crackled. “Focus on breath. No distractions.”
But distractions mounted. Mid-lunge, he “slipped,” pinning her under his frame. Hardness ground against her core. “Oops.”
Lena gasped, shoving up. “Rules, Jax.”
“Fuck rules.” He kissed her—rough, tasting salt and victory. Tongues battled, her nails raking his back. She broke free, panting. “Perks only.”
Enter perk two: Tessa, agency vet. Tall, ebony-skinned, ass like pillows. “Rim queen,” Lena announced.
On the mat, Jax on all fours. Tessa oiled his crack, fingers probing. Then tongue—long, snaking laps. Sloppy, fervent, probing inside. Jax roared, fist pounding floor. “Eat that hole, bitch—primal deep!”
Lena coached from corner, voice thick. Sights: Tessa’s cheeks flexing. Sounds: wet smacks, Jax’s moans. Smell: ass musk thick. Taste? She imagined. Touch? Her nipples peaked against bra.
Tessa fisted his cock while rimming, edging him endless. Explosion came—cum splattering mats, body quaking.
But post-orgasm, Jax pulled Lena close. “Taste her on me?” Primal urge raw in his plea.
She hesitated, conflict twisting gut. Guilt? Desire? One lick—salty, forbidden. Line blurred.
Shadows of Doubt
Shower steamed after. Water cascaded over scars—old farm injury on his thigh. Lena soaped him, hands innocent at first. Then wandering. “Why fight it?” he murmured.
“Your future. Millions. Babies ruin QBs.”
“Yours too.” His fingers dipped her waistband.
She fled, heart pounding. Bond deepened, dangerous.
Chapter 4: Family Ties
Harlan family dinner in suburbia—roast chicken aromas wafting from Clara’s kitchen, potato mash creamy. Jax brought Lena as “agent liaison.” Harlan Sr. clapped Jax’s back, beers foaming.
Under table, Jax’s foot traced her calf. Primal tease. Clara prattled endorsements; Lena nodded, clit throbbing.
Post-meal, basement “man cave.” Harlan Sr. stepped out for smokes. Jax pounced Lena on pool table, cue clattering. “Can’t wait.”
Skirt up, panties aside—no penetration. His mouth devoured her folds, tongue fucking her heat. She bit fist to stifle cries, juices coating chin. Senses overload: wool table texture, beer hops taste on his lips, groans rumbling.
“Your perk now,” he growled, flipping her. Face down, ass up. Jax rimmed her savage—tongue punching hole, nose grinding cheeks. “Taste so fucking primal.”
She shattered, squirting on felt. New scene: raw reciprocity.
Door creaked—Clara calling. Panic scramble. Secrets simmered.
Confessions Over Wine
Later drive home, silence heavy. “Mom suspects,” Jax said.
“She won’t. But we can’t—”
“We already have.” His hand on thigh. Shift irrevocable.
🔥
Chapter 5: Breaking Point
Endorsement gala—crystal clinking, perfumes cloying. Jax in tux, Lena in crimson gown slit to hip. Spotlights hot. Sponsors circled, but Jax dragged her to private suite.
“No more games.” Door locked. Gown pooled. Naked, she knelt—his cock veined monster, slapped her face. “Neck it.”
She did, throat bulging, gags wet. Balls next—heavy, sucked till purple. Then his ritual: ass offered. Lena rimmed feral, tongue burrowing, inhaling primal musk. Fingers knuckle-deep, prostate milking.
He returned—her on bed, legs splayed. Rimming marathon: circles, thrusts, spit-drooling. Added fingers, stretching. Edge of taboo.
New peak: he flipped, hole exposed. “Fist me.” She lubed, slow push—knuckles breaching. His bellows shook walls, cock erupting untouched.
Aftermath: tangled sheets, sweat cooling. “Contract ends year three,” he whispered. “Worth the wait?”
She traced his jaw. “Primal vow kept. For now.”
But dawn brought reality. Games ramped—Super Bowl whispers. Agency perks rotated: double rims, daisy chains. Lena joined covertly, tension coiling tighter.
One night, hotel excess. Three perks + Lena + Jax. Orgy of tongues: rim trains, asses worshipped in chain. Scents overwhelming—sweat, lube, faint earthiness pushing scat edges. Jax buried in Lena’s crack, tongue relentless as she lapped perk ass. Primal frenzy peaked—bodies quivering, releases cascading.
Exhaustion hit. Cuddles raw, vulnerabilities cracked open. “Scared of losing you to rules,” she admitted, trembling.
“Won’t. You’re my primal anchor.”
Years blurred: wins piled, endorsements flooded. Clause loomed end. Final breach? Mutual. But earned—connection forged in denial’s fire.
Last game eve, suite abyss. No perks. Just them. Tongues danced holes, fisting mutual. Climax: shattering, souls bared.
Contract burned next morn. Future boundless. Primal contracts evolved—into forever. 💋
Echoes of Release
Sunrise painted scars gold. Jax’s hand in hers. “League legends now.”
Lena smiled. Tension dissolved. Bond unbreakable.
