“No, it’s not,” he states. “It’s who you are now. You’ve changed.”
I want to slap him across the face. I want to tell him to fuck off. I want to say a million things, but I don’t. Instead, I reach for his cheeks to cup them, and I lean forward, touching my mouth to his.
It’s been ten years, and I’m not dead.
I want him.
His hands slide down my waist to my gold G-string. He grips the side and pulls them down my legs. I step out of them just as he places his hands behind my thighs and picks me up. Pressing my back against the wall, I feel his jean-covered hard length against my center.
I rip my mouth from his, and my head bounces off the wall behind me once as I let out a groan. Reaching between us, I unbutton his pants then slide the zipper down. I push his underwear down as far as they’ll go and then whimper when his length is freed and presses against my center.
Wrapping my fingers around his cock, I gently stroke him. He doesn’t need me to work him. He’s already hard as a rock. I bite my bottom lip and worry the skin there as I look into his eyes, his hard length in my palm.
“Fuck me, Axton,” I softly demand.
I don’t know what else to say or how else to say it. Right now, I need him inside me, and that’s all I can think about. My eyelids flutter closed before he leans forward and touches his mouth to mine.
My whimper turns into a moan the moment I feel the head of his length against my center. I wrap my fingers around his biceps, and my breath hitches right before he sinks inside me.
A moan escapes my throat as he fills me completely.
Stretching me.
Axton lifts his head, his eyes finding mine as he grinds his pelvis against my clit. “Axton,” I breathe.
He grunts. “It’s been a long time since anyone called me that,” he murmurs.
My hands travel up his biceps, my fingers curling around the sides of his throat as my eyes search his. “Has it?” I ask when he doesn’t continue.
He hums, leaning forward until his lips touch mine, his tongue tangling with mine before he breaks the kiss again andlifts his head just enough to rest his forehead against my own. He moves inside me, his pelvis grinding against my clit with each downstroke.
I can feel his breath fanning over my face, and my heart races. It’s him. It’s really him, and he’s inside me. Instantly, I feel like I’m eighteen again. As if nothing has changed and I’m transported back in time.
He moves inside me, slowly at first, then he speeds up. I climb higher and higher. His gaze stays focused on mine. I couldn’t look away even if I wanted to. His pelvis continues to grind against my clit, harder and harder, my breath hitching each and every time.
My nails dig into the flesh of his biceps as I inch closer toward the edge, ready to fall over. Ready to come. I can’t remember the last time sex felt this good—the last time I felt this alive.
He growls as he fucks me hard and fast, and then it happens. I come. The orgasm tears through me, and I begin to cry out, but thankfully, his mouth covers mine, and he swallows my cries of pleasure.
He moves inside me a few more times before I feel him come. He buries himself deep inside, rips his mouth from mine, his eyes connecting to my own, and I feel his cock twitch with his release.
Axton’s gaze searches my own in silence before he collapses forward slightly, his forehead resting against mine again. The sounds of panting fill the air around us as we both attempt to catch our breath.
“The last person who called me Axton was you, Mill.”
PIGGY
I take a step backward and set Millie down on the floor. Tugging my jeans up, I button and zip them, and I reach down and pick up her little G-string panties. I hand them to her, although they’re practically pointless, since this is technically a topless-only bar. She does have to wear them on stage.
Millie watches me, unmoving. I’m not sure what she’s going to say, but I can tell she’s got something on the tip of her tongue ready for me. Tilting my head to the side, I wait for whatever it is she’s got on her mind to come out of her mouth.
Her tongue sneaks out of her mouth to slide across her bottom lip, wasting a little more time as she watches me and tries to figure out how to say whatever the fuck is on her mind, because clearly, something is rolling around inside her head.
“Are you going to be working here now?”
Her words come out breathlessly, and as much as I want to smile at that, I don’t because there is trepidation in her words. I don’t know if she’s scared about the possibility of me being here or scared I won’t be here. Either way, it doesn’t really matter.
“I don’t typically do scheduled work for the club, not with my shift work,” I state. “So the answer to that is maybe.”
