And so it continues.
Much like his elusive scent, he tastes like the incense of kings and the flight of fallen souls. Whiskey, power, and red, black, and green.
“I can’t get enough,” he mumbles against my neck before moving back to my mouth with a bruising tethering.
Nips and teeth and licks and swallows.
He grips me so arduously; every molecule of the atmosphere between us is suffocated into submission. He rules it all yet clutches me like a lifeline.
A treasure he seeks to ravage and shelter and own.
It’s a collision of all his versions, and while there’s nothing hotter than his dominant, controlled demeaner, this is a glorious answer to a month of pent-up desire. I want him to tear me apart and put me back together as much as I yearn to be the only one who sees him like this—outside of himself, fierce and fragile and plundering everything he wants.
But I also sense his conflict about losing himself here.
“Break me then,” I rasp into his mouth, my skin sizzling from every point of contact. “Use me.”
My eyes flutter as I moan from the delicious force of a vicious pump.
“Those goddamn noises.” He doesn’t add anything to that initially. He spins us and swaggers forward with all his lofty bravado as I swivel my hips and seize his mouth. Until I’m flattened against another wall, and he has my hands pinned above my head, and his lips are everywhere. “Want to get you … back … but I can’t …”
His mutterings are unintelligible at this point. It would make me laugh, except I’m too enthralled, too satisfied about being the one to kiss him stupid.
“Like you warned me that day in your office,” I go on, maintaining my train of thought as he sucks on my neck. “With our guns and your torture, when you said you’d split me in two.”I pull my knees up tighter to deepen his position. “You’ll mend me afterward.”
He lifts his chin, our gazes crashing like a surging tide. His pupils have blown into a black abyss, eating away all the blue. His pulse thrums with menacing hunger in his neck. His entire body vibrates with lust and greed and adoration. For me.
And in this clandestine escapeway, everything but Axel ceases to hold value. In place of death warrants and failed missions and forsakenness, I am held and safe and victorious.
“Always,” he promises, hammering into me. “I’ll mend, protect, cherish …” He inflicts a stinging bite on my nipple to emphasize his final point. “And ruin you.”
Despite the wolfish glimmer in his eyes and how aggressively he pistons his hips, I know it’s the idea that I’d trust him that’s his undoing now. He’s asked me that question so many times. I’ve never answered. Because I’d be a fool to trust him and a bigger fool to declare it. So, though I’m uncertain where I stand with everything beyond these walls, here, in his arms, I’m confident that he’ll never break me beyond his ability to heal.
“Do it,” I whisper as he attempts to steer us several more paces toward the residence. “Split me in two, Axel. Then spend the rest of the night sewing me back together.”
His large, lean fingers weave through my hair until he’s palming my head, his lips colliding with mine when we bang into another brick barrier. “You’re un-fucking-real. A goddamn dream.”
He angles us so he’s dragging against my clit, lifting one of my legs until it’s thrown over his shoulder and I’m stretched like a dancer. My thighs are sticky, and a rivulet of sweat trickles between my breasts. It mirrors the one rolling from his temple. I arch my back to heighten the friction, whimpering through every dizzying stroke of rapture.
And he keeps to his word—cradling and destroying in one fell swoop.
A hint of his unruffled composure peeks through as he studies me with hooded eyes, his dark lashes fanning a shadow onto his strong cheekbones, his ash-brown hair boasting of his wisdom and experience with the silver dusting at his temples, his rosy lips parted with intrigue. So handsome. Maybe even more so because he’s intent on learning what will tip me over the edge and willing to tame himself to do it.
The passageway begins to quake—or maybe it’s me. Either way, I surrender to the impending tempest, eager to let it fracture the deepest parts of me, to cleave my story into a before and after, then and now. To become his wrecked darling, his poisonous thorn, tarnished and splintered and replanted to flourish again.
With that notion, he leans forward and bites my collarbone, never sacrificing his ferocious cadence. And I detonate, exploding in a concealed pocket of his castle, like a tawdry mistress. Screaming for the pleasure of the king.
It’s revitalizing in ways I can’t quite name. But I let him consume me and ruin me, envelop my frame and croon his praise into my ear. And as I’m shuddering in his embrace, floating somewhere in the amber light, he covers my lips with his palm, driving himself home.
His determined thrusts and the pure depravity of being muzzled and used elongate my orgasm, which he garners immediately.
“That’s my girl. Keep coming. So goddamn radiant. You’ve got more for me.”
He’s right. I’m suspended in that realm of ecstasy, soaring and shattering at once, with no reprieve in sight. Every second of him taking what he wants from me lifts me higher and brands me deeper.
“Coming inside you,” he announces, and there’s a pause, a question, a request for consent, and maybe regret that we’re discussing parachutes while mid-skydive.
I’d venture that he’s generally more prudent about his encounters, but that awareness only ignites a blazing inferno in the depths of my core, setting any reservations aflame. My days are numbered anyway. He said I sold my soul, but like the kiss, having him in a way no one else has is worth the cost.
