Page 32

I stare at the sleeping woman in my arms. Her face is calm, peaceful in a way that clashes with everything I am. Chaos and violence are my constants, but here she is—vulnerable, soft.

Her damp blonde hair clings to her skin, long lashes resting on flushed cheeks. She feels small, fragile, and I hate how that makes me hesitate.

She loved every second of it. I knew she would. The shift in her eyes—from fear to twisted pleasure—was fucking perfection. Watching her surrender to the edge, to the way she shattered when I cut off her oxygen, was a high I can’t shake. She craves it without understanding why, and that ignorance makes it all the sweeter.

I’m a sadist. Pain is my art. Knowing how far to push, how much to give or take—that’s the thrill. She’s caught in the contradiction: loving the pain, hating herself for it, yet always coming back for more. My little masochist.

But this—holding her like this—isn’t me. The mask was easy—a game. But this is real. And I don’t want it.

What the fuck am I doing?

I should wake her, dump her in bed, and leave. But I’m still here, drawn to her warmth like a goddamn idiot. Her body presses against mine, soft and unfamiliar. Affection isn’t in my vocabulary. I ruin women; I don’t cradle them. I give them ecstasy and devastation, often in the same breath, and they come back for it.

“Axel,” she murmurs in her sleep. I tighten my grip.

She doesn’t wake, but her body tenses slightly.

I need to stop this.

I rise, lifting her easily. Her body is light, her head against my shoulder, her breath warming my skin. I carry her to the bed, laying her down. The marks I left—bruises, bites—stand out on her skin.

I pull the blanket over her and step back.

Fuck, I’m losing my goddamn mind.

The next morning, the phone’s shrill ring drags me from sleep. I fumble for the damn thing, squinting against the glare.

“Yeah?”

“Hawthorne—Vegas. I need you there now.” Isaac’s voice is clipped, taut with urgency.

“When do I leave?”

“Immediately. Intel’s hot and won’t stay that way long. I need this fucking bastard dead.”

“Understood,” I grunt, dragging a hand through my disheveled hair. “I’ll be there.”

After a brisk shower, I’m swiftly dressed and prepared to depart. But first, there’s a conversation I need to have with Rory. I’ve tightened security while she’s been away, and she needs to stick to a strict schedule until I return. I’m the Dolore target, but that doesn’t mean I’m leaving her vulnerable.

I head downstairs, stride to her bedroom door, and raise a hand to knock. Before I can, the door flies open, and Rory barrels into me, eyes wide with surprise. Her earbuds are in, and she stumbles against me. I catch her, steadying her with a firm grip as she blinks up at me.

“Jesus!” she yelps, yanking out her earbuds. “You scared me.” She pushes off my chest and steps back, irritation flashing in her eyes. “What the hell are you doing lurking outside my bedroom?”

“Lurking? That’s a bit melodramatic, don’t you think?”

“Well, what are you doing?”

She’s dressed in the tiniest running shorts I’ve ever seen and a sports bra.

“Enjoying the view.” My eyes travel over her, the sight of her toned body causing a stirring in my cock. She crosses her arms over her chest and rolls her eyes. “Where are you going?”

“On a run. Or was that not obvious?” Her feisty little attitude makes me want to bend her over and spank her ass.

“I need to talk to you,” I say, taking a step toward her.

She backs up, and the door closes.

“No,” she retorts. “You need to get out of my way.”

“Rory. I need you to listen.” She huffs at my serious tone and crosses her arms. “I’m leaving for a mission. There are rules you need to follow.” Her eyes narrow, her expression hard. “I’ve arranged for a different vehicle for you—a Range Rover. That’s the only one you’ll drive. It’ll be parked outside.”

“What? Why?” She frowns, clearly puzzled. “I like my car.”

“I don’t have time to explain,” I snap. “Just don’t go anywhere without clearing it with Griffen first. You’ll be under surveillance, and if you break the rules, I’ll know immediately. Trust me—you won’t like the consequences.”

I brace for her usual defiance. But instead, something shifts—her expression softens, catching me completely off guard. “So, it’s true...There are people after you?”

Figures. Spencer or Conrad must’ve have said something. And I can guarantee neither of them had the balls to admit that all of this is Conrad’s fucking fault. Not that it matters if she knows the truth.

“It doesn’t matter,” I say, my tone dismissive, cutting off any further questions.

She doesn’t need to know there’s a target on my back, or that her father and Spencer are scrambling like limp useless dicks, trying to contain the shitstorm he’s caused.

“How long will you be gone?”

“As long as it takes.”

“What if you’re…” Her voice falters, and she looks away.

“If I’m what?”

“Nothing,” she says, shaking her head. “Forget it.”

She tries to move past me, but I grab her wrist, spinning her around. She struggles, but I tighten my grip, yanking her close. I press her back against the wall and cage her in.

“Tell me,” I growl.

“Axel…” She looks up, a flicker of something vulnerable in her gaze. “What if you don’t come back?”

I lean in, my face inches from hers. “Why do you care? You hate me, remember ?”

“I do,” she snaps. “But I don’t want you dead.” Her glare is fierce, eyes blazing with a fire that matches her tone. “How can I kill you in your sleep if you die on a mission?”

I press my face closer, our lips nearly grazing. “And just how do you plan to do that, little siren? By biting my dick off? I’d love to hear the details of your brilliant plan,” I purr.

“You’re a bastard,” she hisses.

“That’s not very nice. Especially after all the fun we’ve had.” My hands slide to her waist, my thumbs tracing the curve of her hips.

“Fun? You call that fun? You tried to drown me.” Her voice drips with sarcasm.

“But you came so hard,” I retort, enjoying the way her body responds to my touch. Her nipples, hardened and visible through her sports bra.

“I don’t understand you,” she confesses, her frustration obvious in the flush of her cheeks. “One minute, you’re an asshole; the next, you’re...I don’t know what you are.”

“I’m not a man you understand, little siren,” I murmur, my lips grazing the edge of her ear. “I’m not a man you want to understand.” I flick along the delicate curve of her ear. “I’m a man who’s going to make you suffer in ways that will make you beg for more.”

Her breath quickens, chest heaving with rapid intensity. Before she can respond, I seize her lips in a brutal, commanding kiss.

She freezes but then melts into me, her body responding to the kiss. My tongue darts into her mouth, tasting her. She reluctantly moans, the sound muffled by the kiss. My hands travel up her sides, exploring her body.

“Stop,” she murmurs, her voice a weak protest.

The heat between us grows as she pulls me closer, my cock pressing against her. The thin fabric of her shorts does little to conceal the warmth between her legs.

“No,” I grunt, my hand traveling to the apex of her thighs.

My fingers press into her wetness, and she lets out a soft moan. I slowly massage her pussy, her juices soaking through her shorts.

She breaks the kiss and turns her head away, her eyes closed, her lips parted.

“You’re mine. Mine to play with, mine to torture, mine to pleasure. And most of all, mine to punish.” Her breath hitches, and she looks up at me, conflicted.

She hates what I am, but her body craves it, grinding against my hand, unable to deny its need. Fuck, I’m not leaving without burying my cock in her tight pussy.

I haul her into the bathroom, her protests muffled by the low moans escaping her as my hand slides down the front of her shorts. Then I bend her over the counter, pressing her against the cold tile, ignoring her struggle.

I slide a finger inside her, feeling her walls clamp down around me. “Tell me you don’t want this. Tell me you don’t want me.”

“I don’t,” she manages, her voice shaky, her body trembling. “I fucking hate you,” she gasps.

“You do hate me.” I add second finger, stretching her tight pussy. “But you love my fingers.” I pump in and out, curling them, hitting the spot I know will make her moan. “And you love my cock.”

Her ass pushes back against my thrusts, her hips rocking in desperate need. She whimpers, the sound driving me wild. “Fuck,” she moans, gripping the edge of the counter.

She tries to speak again, but I clamp my hand over her mouth, silencing her.

Her body grinds against me, her pussy dripping onto my fingers. I yank her shorts down, exposing her tight ass and pussy.

I push the head of my cock between her legs, sliding against her wetness. The sight of my mark drives me fucking insane. I press her head against the counter, keeping my palm firmly over her mouth.

“Be a good girl,” I command, easing the tip of my cock into her. Her eyes widen with the stretch, but she pushes back, taking me deeper. “Fuck,” I groan, dazed by the tight grip of her walls. “So fucking tight,” I grunt, pulling out and slamming back into her, her ass smacking against my hips with every thrust. I yank her upright, her back pressed against my chest, her hands digging into the counter.

Each thrust makes her body quake, the slap of our skin filling the room. She’s moaning and gasping, her head tossed back. The sight of her like this is intoxicating. Her eyes are closed, her face twisted in pleasure.

She screams my name—music to my fucking ears. Her body shudders, her legs quivering as she nears the edge. I grab her wrists, pinning them to her lower back, pulling them away from my hair. Shoving her over the counter, her tits pressing into the cool tile. I hit that spot, the one that makes her lose her mind, and pushes her over the edge.

“Axe!” Her voice cracks as the orgasm hits, her body convulsing, her walls clamping down on my cock.

She trembles and shudders, the sheer force of her pleasure driving me to the brink.

I slam into her one last time, burying myself deep. My groan rumbles through the room as I unload, every muscle in my body straining. Her legs buckle, and I keep her pinned against the counter, her body shaking, her knees giving out. The feel of her pussy milking me is fucking bliss.

I press my chest against her back, the last of my cum spilling inside her. She’s a ragdoll, her legs too weak to hold her up, her body limp under my weight. Her breath comes in ragged gasps.

It should be enough, but I’m not done. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, and fuck, this girl has me hooked. I need her taste, her scent clinging to me.

I pull out, our cum dripping down her legs. Gripping her waist, I yank her into her room and toss her onto the bed. Before she can react, I’m on her, my tongue tracing the mess we’ve made on her inner thigh.

She gasps, her eyes flying open as I savor the taste of our cum. I sweep my tongue over her pussy, cleaning every drop.

“Stop,” she cries, squirming, but I pin her down.

“You fucking love it.” I thrust my tongue inside her.

Her juices coat my mouth, and I lap them up as she bucks her hips against my face, her breathing ragged and shallow.

“Axe,” she moans, her fingers twisting the sheets.

“Keep screaming my name, little siren,” I rasp, my tongue dragging over her pussy. She’ll get off, but this isn’t about her pleasure—it’s for me. To imprint her scent, her taste, before I’m gone.

I need this. I need everything I can take.

Her legs clamp around my head, her body grinding against my mouth. “Please,” she begs, her voice cracking.

I’ve never wanted to eat a pussy more than hers. It’s fucking addicting. My hands grip her thighs, holding her firm as my tongue plunges deeper, scooping up every drop.

“Stop,” she gasps, her legs quaking.

“No,” I grunt, sucking harder on her swollen clit. “You taste too damn good.”

“I’m too sensitive,” she pleads.

“I know, little siren, but I need one last taste.” I clamp down on her clit, pulling it into my mouth. Her body jerks, her hips rising off the bed.

“Stop, stop,” she chants, but her protests dissolve into ragged cries of pleasure. I drive my tongue deeper, extracting every last bit of her orgasm. Her fingers claw at my hair, yanking hard, her back arching, her body helpless beneath me.

She’s fucking exquisite—head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut, mouth open in a silent scream. Her cum and mine mix together, but it’s not enough. I need one more flavor.

As her climax hits its peak, I sink my teeth into her inner thigh. Her scream slices through the room, sharp and violent. I hold her in place, sucking on her flesh, drawing the blood to the surface.

“Stop,” she gasps, but I suck harder on the bite mark, blending her blood with our cum, and she releases a soft cry.

Now it’s fucking perfect. My tongue traces the mark, savoring the blend of all her flavors. I lick and suck until she’s sobbing and moaning, her fingers tangled in my hair.

When I’m satisfied, I pull away, rising from between her legs.

Her eyes are glazed, breathing erratic.

“You’re sick and that hurt,” she murmurs, voice distant.

“Yeah, I know. I can’t help it.” I say, bending down to kiss her thigh. “Your taste is my favorite.”

She groans, her body going limp, eyelids fluttering.

I adjust my pants and rake a hand through my hair, savoring the lingering taste of her blood and cum on my lips.

“Axe. Get the hell out.” The usual venom is missing, and I smirk, relishing her disheveled state.

“Try not to miss me too much,” I taunt, turning to leave. “I’m sure your cunt will.”

“Get out,” she snaps, more forceful now, propping herself on her elbows. Her flushed cheeks, glossy eyes, and ragged breaths paint a picture of her aftermath.

I pause in the doorway, glancing back with a hard stare.

“Rory, take Kane on your run,” I command. “And remember, if you break any rules, the punishment will be severe.”