“Fill me up, Axel. Give me your cum,” I plead when he lifts his palm from my mouth.
That does it. His mammoth frame jerks around me.
“Fuuuuuuuuck, Zar.” He erupts inside me—hot and forceful and never-ending, full of the same power he infuses into everything.
When I moan from the sheer deliciousness of him streaming into me, he covers my mouth with his for an unapologetically brutal fusion. And that wildness he tries so hard to tamp down is revived once more while he endures his own endless bliss. He keeps taking from me, intent on wringing every drop of euphoria from each of us, leaving himself in the deepest parts of my body, marking me as his. Neither of us can stop trembling.
But after several minutes, sweaty and tangled with one another in this desolate corridor, we finally catalog the destruction. Our jagged breaths and pounding heartbeats. His pants finally surrendered and are now pooled around his ankles. My skirt is encircling my waist, my blouse is ripped, and my front-clasping bra is hanging loose.
In a shared breath, we dissolve into hysterical laughter, whether it be from the sight of us in shambles or the adrenaline spike.
I bite my lip as my hands explore his strong shoulders. “We probably shouldn’t do that before a meeting unless there’sa hurricane or a lion on the loose to explain why we’re so disheveled.”
“Wisdom,” he quips with a grin that unravels years of turmoil inside me.
It’s an exchange that trumps anything I’ve ever shared with another person. Somehow more intimate than the sex itself. A possessiveness bubbles inside me. That postcoital elation flooding him is mine.
Eventually, we calm and quiet. He rests his forehead against mine, and his quenched smirk morphs into a concerned frown before he pecks my nose.
“Don’t say it.” I hate the panic in my voice, but if this man that I’m hopelessly falling for tells me he regrets this an hour after my father practically euthanized me, I won’t care if I survive.
“Clearly, you don’t have any idea what I was going to say.” He dusts some matted wisps of hair from my face, his tranquil presence returning even though his breaths are still ragged. “That was the most fun I’ve ever had. You are beyond any fantasy I dared to imagine. We have a lot to figure out, but I owe you an apology.” That worry line returns, regret knotting his forehead. “I’ve been careless with you. More than once. It won’t happen again. We’re going to talk about limits and preferences and—”
“I’m on birth control,” I blurt, assuming that’s part of it. The fear that I’m trapping him.
“There’s a very loud voice in my head that wishes you weren’t, but … good.”
That’s not at all the response I expected. The idea that he wouldn’t feel trapped, that he likes the notion of something that would bind us forever, is almost more than I can handle. My entire body quivers in his embrace.
He chuckles as if he’s in on a secret. “You and me both, darling.”
No one has ever called medarlingbefore. But every time he does, it makes me feel cherished, like a 1940s movie star who’s about to be kissed violently until she faints. If any man could cause a woman to pass out from a kiss, it’s Axel Noire. It was a sacrifice serving the greater good that he didn’t wield that power carelessly.
His attention flicks to where we’re joined, his gaze smoldering as he traces my opening, skimming the edges of his still-hard dick and scooping up the cocktail of our release, leaking from the sides. He studies it before raising his dripping fingers to my mouth and shoving them inside. A growl thunders from his chest as I hollow my cheeks with a throaty purr and consume the salt-and-tang flavor ofus.
“That’s the taste of belonging to me, Zara. Memorize it.” He’s so formidable with that order, constrained darkness pouring off him. And then, as if to present me with all his perplexing sides, he presses his lips to mine again, gentle and sweet while sampling his ownership, before sinking his teeth into the pillowy flesh with a warning. “If you have doubts, you talk to me. You don’t jump to conclusions or get lost inside your head. Understand?”
“Yes, sir,” I whisper with a coy grin, not able to fully process the gravity of what he’s professing.
Maybe we’re simply swept up in the moment.
He smacks my ass in a silent command to let him set me on my feet. Then he pulls his pants up, helps put me back together, and laces his fingers with mine, guiding me through the passageways. It shouldn’t be shocking that even with sex-mussed hair and his shirt rumpled, Axel is imperial. An indomitable leader who spins the world for those under his care. It must be tiresome, and yet he does it with such grace, like being the one to hold everyone and everything together is what he was meant for.
On the way, he pulls his phone out of his pocket, scanning some messages with a grunt that hovers somewhere near a laugh before passing his cell to me with a quirked brow. “This is what you’re getting into.”
I’m not sure what he’s referring to, until I see it’s their family text thread.
Ryker: We’re getting reports of odd noises behind some of the executive office walls.
Maddox: Do you think Slugger took him down again?
Ryker: I’m guessing he welcomed it this time.
Jax: Papa Axe is a dirty slut.
Cash: Apparently, they’re headed toward the suites. Are they fucking on the move? Like a spicy triathlon?
Maddox: And crashing into every wall, it would seem. People are terrified. It’s mayhem out here. Every man for himself. Can you hear the screaming?
