Page 85 of Velvet and Valor

His mouth finds me, and I gasp, my head falling back against the pillows. His tongue is relentless, his movements precise, as if he’s mapping every inch of me. My hands tangle in his hair, tugging, but he doesn’t stop. If anything, he doubles down, his teeth grazing my skin as he bites through the delicate fabric of my panties, tearing them away.

My breath hitches, and I’m already on the edge, teetering, when he dips his tongue inside me, sending a jolt of electricity straight to my core.

“That’s it,” he growls, his hands gripping my thighs to hold me in place. “Let me hear you.”

I can’t hold back. My body arches off the bed, a scream tearing from my throat as I come undone beneath him. He doesn’t let up, drawing out every wave until I’m shaking, my legs trembling as I collapse back onto the bed, still thrashing with pleasure.

My body still hums with the aftershocks of my own pleasure, but I can’t stop myself. I reach for him, my fingers wrapping around his cock with a firmness that makes him groan. His eyes lock onto mine, dark and full of something I can’t quite name—desire, yes, but something deeper, something that makes my chest tighten.

“June,” he growls, his voice low and rough, like gravel underfoot. It’s a warning, but I don’t care. I’ve never felt this bold, this sure of myself. I want to give him this, to make him feel even a fraction of what he’s made me feel.

I lean in, my tongue tracing the length of him, slow and deliberate. He hisses through his teeth.

I take my time, savoring the way he reacts to every touch, every flick of my tongue. His body is tense, coiled like a spring, and I can feel the effort it takes for him to stay still.

I work him with my mouth, my hand, my tongue, every movement calculated to draw out every sound, every shudder. He’s not quiet, not by any means, and the sounds he makes—deep, guttural, almost primal—send a thrill through me. I’ve never felt like this before, like I’m in control, like I’m the one giving him something he needs.

When he finally comes, it’s with a low, guttural groan that seems to come from deep within him. I swallow every drop, my eyes never leaving his. He’s breathing hard, his chest rising and falling like he’s just run a marathon, and I can’t help but feel a sense of pride. I did that. Me.

The hum of the film festival outside fades into white noise as Axel’s weight presses me into the mattress. His hands grip my wrists, pinning them above my head with a control that’s both infuriating and exhilarating. I arch against him, my breath hitching as his lips find the curve of my neck, teeth grazing in a way that makes my pulse spike.

His fingers slide down my arms, trailing heat, before one hand slips between us, gripping my hip with a possessiveness that shouldn’t feel as good as it does. The other hand shifts to the small of my back, arching me against him.

My mind is a whirl of sensation, his body a heat source I can’t escape—not that I want to. His cock presses against me, insistent, and I shift my hips, inviting him in. He doesn’t hesitate, sliding into me with a groan that’s half frustration, half relief.

“June,” he cries, his rhythm quickening, each thrust deliberate and deep. His hands roam my body, fingers digging into my skin as if he’s trying to memorize every inch of me.

“I’m yours,” I moan, the words spilling out in a rush. My hands claw at his back, nails digging into his skin as I pull him closer, desperate for the connection. His breath hitches, a sound that’s almost a laugh, and he leans down to capture my lips in a kiss that’s all teeth and hunger.

When I come, it’s with a cry that he muffles with his mouth, his grip tightening as though he’s afraid I’ll float away. But he’s not done—far from it. Before I can catch my breath, he’s rolling me onto my stomach, his hands on my hips, pulling me back against him. I brace myself on my elbows, the sheets tangled beneath me, as he thrusts into me again, deeper this time.

His hands slide up my back, fingers pressing into my shoulders as he leans over me, his breath hot against my neck. You’re perfect,” he murmurs, the words raw and unfiltered. His rhythm falters for a moment, and I feel the shift in him, the way his body tightens as he gets closer.

I reach behind me, my fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. “Axel,” I gasp, my voice breaking as I feel the tension snap, the waves of pleasure crashing over me again.

He buries his face in my neck, his groan muffled against my skin as he follows me over the edge, his body shuddering against mine.

For a moment, we stay like that, his weight on me, his breath hot against my skin. Then he shifts, pulling me into his arms as he rolls onto his back.

I curl into him, my head resting on his chest, listening to the steady thud of his heartbeat. His fingers trace patterns on my skin, a lazy, contented touch that makes warmth bloom in my chest.

Outside, the festival continues, the sound of laughter and music drifting through the window. But here, in this room, the world is reduced to the two of us, and I can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be.

“So,” Axel says, “I’m thinking Matt Damon could play me.”

“Only if Scarlett Johansson plays me,” I say.

Axel’s mouth falls open. I kiss him before he can react.

“I love you,” he says when he can speak again.

“I love you, too. Now, do you want to go out and face the press, or would you rather–”

The sounds of the festival drown out my delighted squeal as Axel pins me to the bed.

Looks like we’re staying in tonight.