Page 19 of Axel (Belles & Bratva Beasts #2)

The stalking was a big clue, but I thought that was a controlling game for him. Like he just wanted the chase. But Axel said he wants much more with me. He wants to catch me. He wants us together .

But what do I want?

The answer terrifies me. I can’t focus on it right now.

Adorning my upper thighs with fake tattoos, I give my body plausible deniability if a video is ever released online. That’s not me. I don’t have tattoos. I dust baby powder over them to make them look more realistic.

The new blonde wig helps. It’s not a cheap one. It looks real, and with the heavier makeup I swipe on and a cute pair of black cat-eye reading glasses, I do look like a seductive secretary.

Opening the door to the jet’s bedroom, I freeze when Axel turns his stare from the window to me.

Suddenly, his eyes soften.

I know he recognizes me from the sex club, and I shrug like, “Yep, that was me, the crying cowgirl. You see, deep down, I hide my vulnerable heart.”

And here I am again, in another disguise for him. “Is this okay?” I ask aloud, inwardly teetering on insecurity.

“Is this strictly professional?” Grant replies instead, “Because, goddamn brother, you’re a stronger man than me.”

“Ms. Jones works for me.” Axel ices his voice. “She knows this is a role, not romance.”

I don’t believe him. Or maybe I don’t want to, and neither does Grant.

“Whatever.” He arches a brow at Axel. “Just remember: stay off camera. Your paralegal is brave as hell, willing to be filmed for our op, but you can’t be.” Pause. “Not ever.”

“Once we enter,” I try to stay on mission, too, telling Grant, “give us an hour, tops, and then call my cell. Yell, and sound like a suspicious husband.”

“An hour’s not long enough,” Axel argues.

“For two people escaping to have an illicit affair? Please,” I scoff, “most would be fucking after two minutes alone.”

“True that,” Grant agrees. “I’m on my wife every chance I get, and it’s perfectly legal.”

“All are well aware your pecker has no OFF switch.”

“Hey,” Grant shrugs at him, “when a man loves his beautiful wife, he’s always turned ON for her.”

“Aw,” I sigh. “What’s your wife’s name?”

Grant shoots Axel a look, and I hold my breath. I want the name of the other queen. I want as much intel as I can get on their world .

“I got the app loaded,” Axel tells Grant, changing the subject.

I clock it, frustrated, but ask, “What app?”

“One that detects hidden cameras using your phone,” Axel answers. “There’s a radio frequency detector in my jacket pocket, too. Let me enter first and make sure the only camera is the one in the bedroom.”

“But shouldn’t I use it? I’m the one in disguise, not you.”

“You’re not entering first,” Axel orders. “It’s too dangerous.”

“I don’t know how to say this nicely, so I won’t; that’s dumb.” I plop down in front of him and buckle my seatbelt. “Give me the detector, and let me enter first. Your face can’t be on camera. And what if there’s one at the front door?”

“She’s smart and right,” Grant agrees. “Besides, I got your six if there’s real danger. I rented the chalet next door. I’ll be watching the whole time.”

Axel fumes but agrees.

Thirty minutes after we land, we arrive at the chalet in our rental car. Silently, Axel hands me the detector to hide in my purse.

While he keeps his face hidden behind the open trunk, stalling while he gets our suitcase, I sashay toward the front door. The detector doesn’t buzz. It doesn’t detect a camera.

“Oh, my king ,” I call out, suddenly inspired to tease Axel with his last name. It’s so Bratva and Dom, too. “I’ll be inside waiting for you .”

Quickly, I punch in the code provided by the rental app. Opening the front door, I glance over my shoulder and startle at the sight.

It’s Axel, holding our black suitcase and stalking my way.

But, oh shit, the look in his icy eyes.

It’s a ferocious, pussy-wetting glare. Like I’m about to be attacked and love it.

I squeal, committing to my role…

But is it?

This feels too real as I race into the open A-frame living area with a view of the mountain valley below. The detector doesn’t buzz in my purse, so I turn and quickly spot the primary bedroom adjacent to the room.

I rush in and find the king-size bed with fresh white linens tucked into a rustic cabin-like wooden frame. Thankfully, there’s no footboard on the bed, so I sit on its edge, knowing I’m facing the hidden camera.

Arousal sizzles in my veins, noting the camel suede side chairs across from the bed, like a seating area set directly under the oil painting of a mountainscape. The art hides a pin-hole camera, disguised by the black paint of a shadowy valley.

The detector in my purse on the bed silently vibrates, but I force myself not to look at the illegal device.

Aware that the camera is there, too, Axel enters the bedroom. He stays out of range of the lens, leaving the suitcase by the door. Settling into a chair directly under the camera, all that can be seen are his legs in a dark suit.

“My, my, Ms. Jones.” His performance begins for the camera. It records his voice as he sweeps his jacket open. “You’re such a good girl, so eager to serve your king , aren’t you?”

He spreads his legs and slowly unbuttons his shirt. “Now, keep being a good girl for me, and you’ll get a reward. I’ll give you a choice tonight.” He smirks. “Anal or oral. Or does my naughty sub want both?”

Sorry, ovaries. It’s time to burst.

He’s going for the BDSM role-play, too.

“Both, my king.” I cross my legs like a lady, trying to make my voice sound breathy, but it’s not a stretch. My pulse races. My clit tingles. My birth control is battening her hatches. “I’ve been waiting months for you. Months to get away from my husband. He’s such a little … dickhead .”

Axel chuckles at my favorite word for him. But like a true Dom, he orders, “Tell your king the last time your sweet pussy was fucked.”

You mean my wet pussy?

“It’s been months. Over six months since I started working for you, Mr. Stewart.” It’s not a lie, but it’s the fake identity Grant assigned to Axel.

“Good job, Ms. Jones.” He taps his inked fingers over his thigh. “So your pussy is very lonely? Is it ready to serve me? Only me? Is it wet and aching for me?”

“Yes, my king.” Good god, this is hot.

“Have you been my bad secretary and good sub, obeying my orders?”

Where is he going with this? “Yes, my king.”

He cocks a brow. “Did you use the anal plug I left wrapped in a box on your desk?”

Oh.

My.

God.

Has this been Axel’s fantasy all along?

He licks his lips, shamelessly confirming it, and the rush of lust between my thighs is instant.

“Yes, my king. Thank you for my anal plug.”

“Did you wear it while shopping for that dress, like I told you to? ”

I chew my lip. “Yes, my king.”

“Did it get your pussy and panties wet for me? Feeling my toy in your tight ass? Wanting me to lick your ass tonight?”

He remembers my blurt in the car. And he’s soaking my panties right now. All I want is Axel’s tongue … everywhere. “Yes, my king.”

“Did you go into the dressing room,” he taunts, “like I told you to, and get naked and play with your pretty pussy, sending me a video of you being such a dirty girl for me, and coming like you never do with your little dickhead husband?”

This is half-subterfuge, half seduction.

Desire crushes me. I’m finding it hard to breathe. It narrows Axel’s eyes, too.

These fantasies come too quickly to him. Like they’re the dirty things he said he fantasizes about in his shower when he jerks off and moans my name.

And how do I feel about it?

“ Yes , my king,” I sigh. I love it.

“Good girl, Ms. Jones. I love how you’re so pleasing and passive for me.”

The hell I am. My pussy is soaked, slick, and sliding from role-play into reality.

“But you were such a dirty brat the other day at work, tempting me.” Because Axel’s too convincing.

Too controlling and taking me there. “You were wearing that pretty dress and rubbing your pussy on the corner of my desk and begging me to fuck you right there. Is that how you want to pleasure me, Ms. Jones? Making me bend you over my desk to fuck you?”

“Yes, my king.” He’s not lying. I’m not lying. I’m dying for him. “I want you to fuck me on your desk. I want to kneel under it, too, and suck your cock while you fist my hair and fuck my throat and?—”

“ Fuucckk , Ms. Jones,” Axel groans like he’s in pain, his eyelids dropping heavy with lust. His hand slides from his thigh to stroke the thick erection in his pants.

“Be careful, pushing my buttons. Don’t make me punish you.

Don’t fucking tease me. Do you mean it, Ruby?

” He’s dropping our performance. “You want to serve me? You want to kneel for me?”

I’ve never done it before, and I don’t care if Axel has been a Dom to other women; I suddenly want this too much. I’ve always wanted to be a sub like my sister Scarlett is to her hot husband, Luca.

I’ve always wanted this with a man, but never trusted any to do it.

But suddenly … I trust Axel.

At least with this.

He’s so goddamn Dom and dangerous, but he won’t hurt me. Not my body, at least. Not unless I ask him to.

“Yes, my king.” I want him to know I’m not pretending. “Please, I want to serve you. I want to kneel for you.”

Axel lowers his glare. “Prove it. Prove you want to serve me and that I can trust you. Look me in the eye while you reach into your dress and pinch your nipple under that lacy bra I bought you.”

Now I know why he bought me a wrap dress. It’s so I can do this without exposing my body to the camera.

It makes half of me fall so hard for him, protecting me like this, while half of me wants to show how much I want him; I don’t give a damn who’s recording me.

I obey, just as I did when I sucked his thumb. I do this, too. Reaching into my dress, my nipple is already hard while I pinch it, staring at him.

The feral look in his eyes makes me moan, pinching and tugging, before I move my hand and reveal my aroused nipple, pebbled under thin fabric and lace.