"Move," Axel urges, his voice tight with restraint. "Take what you need, Sadie."
I move on him, hips rolling, fighting the urge to take everything I want. It’s reckless, this hunger, but I can’t stop. I want to climb out of my skin, let him fill every empty, aching part of me. I’m half-wild, desperate, afraid if I let go I’ll break apart. Each downstroke sends pleasure curling up my spine, his thickness hitting places inside me that make my thighs quake. His hands guide my hips, helping me find the perfect angle, but his movements are still too controlled, too careful.
"Let go," I urge, digging my nails into his shoulders. "I'm not going to break."
Something flashes in his eyes, hunger, need, a primal possessiveness that makes my core clench around him. But then he blinks, and it's gone, replaced by that careful restraint again.
"I want to make this good for you," he says, one hand sliding between us to circle my clit.
The touch sends a jolt through me, pleasure sharp and immediate. "It is good," I gasp, bearing down harder. "But I want you. All of you. Not just the parts you think I can handle."
He groans, hips bucking up into me with more force but still not enough. I can feel him holding back, keeping some essential part of himself in check. It frustrates me even as it touches something deep and wounded inside my chest. He's being so careful with me, and I both love and hate him for it.
"I want you," I say again, the words half command, half plea. I grip his face between my palms, forcing him to look at me. "Stop thinking and just feel me."
For a moment, something wild flashes across his face, a glimpse of the raw need he's keeping leashed. His hands tightenon my hips, almost bruising, and he thrusts up into me hard enough to make me cry out.
"Like that?" he growls, voice deeper than I've ever heard it.
"Yes," I gasp, grinding down to meet him. "God, yes."
He thrusts harder, deeper. I bite my lip, holding back the sounds he pulls from me. I’m trembling, tension drawn tight as a wire. Every time he moves, I feel myself unraveling. I fight it, afraid to lose control, but he won’t let me hide.
Axel's hand finds my clit again, circling with just the right amount of pressure. "Come for me," he murmurs, eyes locked on mine. "Let me feel you."
The orgasm builds low in my belly, a gathering storm. I chase it desperately, riding him harder, my movements becoming erratic as I near the edge. Axel watches me with those intense eyes, his gaze never leaving my face.
"That's it," he encourages, his thumb pressing more firmly against my clit. "Let go, Sadie. I've got you."
The words push me over. I shatter around him, my body clenching and pulsing as pleasure crashes through me in waves. I bite my lip to keep from crying out, mindful of Poppy sleeping nearby, but a whimper escapes anyway.
Axel holds me through it, his strong arms keeping me steady as I tremble and shake. The orgasm seems endless, wringing me out, leaving me limp and gasping against his chest.
As I come back to myself, I realize he's still hard inside me, his body tense with unreleased need. He strokes my back gently, pressing soft kisses to my temple, my cheek, the corner of my mouth.
"You didn't come," I murmur, shifting my hips slightly.
He groans at the movement. "It's okay. This was for you."
That careful control again. Even now, buried inside me, he's holding back. I lift my head to look at him, finding his eyes dark with want but still watchful, still careful.
"I want you to come," I tell him, clenching deliberately around him. "I want to feel you lose control."
"Sadie," he warns, but I'm already moving again, setting a rhythm designed to break his restraint.
I lean close, my lips at his ear. "Fuck me like you mean it."
Something snaps in him, not completely, but enough. His hands grip my ass, lifting me slightly before bringing me down hard on his cock. The angle changes, hitting a spot deep inside that makes me gasp. He does it again and again, his movements becoming more forceful.
"Like this?" he growls, voice rough with need.
"Yes," I moan, my body already building toward a second release. "Don't stop."
He suddenly flips us, pressing me into the couch cushions, his weight a delicious pressure pinning me down. The new position lets him go deeper, harder, and I wrap my legs around his waist to take him all the way in.
"Fuck, you feel good," he groans against my neck. "So tight—so wet."
His thrusts grow more urgent, the careful rhythm faltering as he chases his own pleasure. I can tell he's close by the tension in his muscles, the way his breathing grows ragged. But even now, on the edge of release, he's holding something back, some final piece of himself he won't surrender.
