“Happy Birthday to you… Happy Birthday to you… Happy Birthday, dear Princessss… Happy Birthday to you!”
A sleepy smile tugs at my lips as Axel’s soft voice coaxes me awake. My eyes flutter open to find him leaning on one elbow, his face close to mine, his grin wide and warm. He dips down and kisses me, slow and sweet.
Waking up next to Axel every morning feels like a religious experience. Equal parts sacred and sinful. I try to focus on the good parts and ignore the guilt that simmers under the surface. I thread my fingers through his messy, dark hair.
“Hey, you,” I whisper.
“What should we do today?” he asks, eyes twinkling with mischief.
“Well,youshould go to school, andIshould start job hunting,” I say, because clearly someone here has to be responsible.
“Ugh,” he groans. “Do you know how unfair it is that I’m older than you but still stuck in class while you get to adult?”
“So unfair,” I echo with a smirk.
“Unbelievably unfair. I was thinking about playing hooky. Maybe having you all to myself.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“What about Nik? Are you inviting him too?”
“Nah. Your boyfriend’ll get over it,” Axel jokes.
“I’m not so sure about that,” I reply with a smirk.
“I’ll make it up to him.” He waggles his eyebrows in a way that’s far too suggestive for this early in the morning.
I bite my lower lip, heat pooling low in my belly. The thought of Axel and Nik together short-circuits my brain.
Axel’s gaze sharpens. “Oh, Princess. Maybe one day,” he murmurs, voice dipping lower, “you can watch.”
Yep. Brain officially broken.
“Don’t torment me,” I groan, half-laughing, half-desperate. My mind races, imagining all the things they probably do together. All the thingswecould do together.
“Stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?” I ask innocently.
“Like you need to be fucked,” he growls.
“Maybe I do,” I challenge.
Axel shifts, moving smoothly on top of me, settling between my thighs. His arms bracket my head, and his hips press down, a teasing weight against my core.
“You’re ready for this?” he asks, voice low, breath brushing my cheek.
“Yes,” I say again, positively sure.
His hips roll slightly, a slow, maddening grind. “You’re really sure?”
“Yes,” I moan, squirming beneath him.
“Then get up. We’ve got things to do, Birthday Girl!” he pops a kiss on my unsuspecting mouth and hops out of bed.
He’s halfway to the door before I recover from the whiplash and catch a very impressive bulge in his boxer briefs.
