~~PEYTON~~
My mouth meets his with a force that probably rattles his teeth.
The initial shock is on his side this time.
His lips are soft, surprisingly so, and taste faintly of mint and something else.
Something that tastes wild, a glaring warning that this is a dangerous addiction in the making.
Kissing Axel feels different.
I’d had my fair share of kisses – awkward high school crushes, the lingering sweetness of first dates, the deep familiarity with Odin.
But this… this is raw, unpolished, and unapologetic, a direct current of pure sensation.
There’s no pretense, no careful thought behind it, just a powerful, undeniable connection of mouths and tongues.
It’s the kiss of someone who knows exactly what they want and isn’t afraid to take it, and for once, that person is me.
His hands, which had been gripping my forearms, slowly relax, then rise to cup my face.
His thumbs brush over my cheekbones, a surprising tenderness that sends a jolt through me.
It almost makes me falter, but I can’t.
Not now.
This is about more than just him.
This is about me, and Odin, and everything I’m leaving behind.
His groan vibrates against my lips.
Our tongues dance, tangle, and the kiss becomes hotter, more urgent.
It wasn’t gentle, not really, but it wasn’t rough either.
My hand is still clasped around his groin; my thumbs caress the tips, only making him push himself up.
Now he’s seated with the side of his body pressed against the armrest as he shoves me closer.
There’s no space between us, just the thin fabric of my clothes against his bare skin.
I find myself melting, and my hand on his groin doesn’t feel like a grip anymore; it’s more like a connection, anything to make me feel attached to a piece of him, and it makes my veins thrum.
What makes it worse is when his fingers slip off my cheek and drift all the way to my neck, pressing lightly on my pulse.
He’s slowly taking back control, and I hate how this is turning out.
I pull away too fast.
His eyes open then narrow.
“What?”
”This isn’t going how I want it.
Lie back down,” I demand, my voice a little breathless, trying to reassert the power I feel slipping away.
“Must I?”
Before I can respond, he catches me off guard by burying his face into my chest, his hot breath hitting against my skin.
I gasp, my head flying back.
Damn, this is going wrong.
This isn’t the way I want to be in control.
A moan escapes me as he feasts on my chest.
His hands move fast, peeling my top from the waist upward, and in one fluid motion, he rips it away and tosses it to the side.
I barely have time to react before he pushes my back against the headrest; my nipple is swallowed inside his mouth, teeth sinking in, dragging on it… it’s not too firm, not even close to gentle, but a slow, torturous pull.
I’m the one who’s supposed to make him feel that way.
Not the other way around.
I fist his hair, inviting him in, while my hips wiggle as his body weight pushes me deeper into the seat.
But he doesn’t stop; his hands travel to my shorts.
He fumbles with the zip, unfastens the button, and then slides his hand inside me.
All my willpower evaporates in that moment, melting into a hot, dizzying rush of pure sensation.
“Someone’s clearly having a better time than they’re letting on, aren’t they?” he murmurs as he kisses my skin.
“So much for being a sex trainer.”
I want to argue, but honestly, my brain just short-circuits.
All I can focus on is how good it feels—it’s just a finger, but it’s enough to make me question my whole ‘being in charge’ thing.
The idea of being the one running the show went right out the window.
My fingers dig harder into his scalp, urging him on, even as a small, traitorous part of me rails against the surrender.
He pulls back from my breast just enough to look up.
I can’t see his face clearly; my vision is blurry.
“See? I knew you’d come around.” His hand inside my shorts tightens, pressing just the right spot, and a gasp tears from my throat.
It’s a blatant power play, and he knows it.
He’s not just taking; he’s showing me he can take.
And the infuriating thing is, a part of me is completely here for it.
The part that’s tempted by this consuming fire that only Axel could give me.
That’s why I’m here in the first place.
It’s a pathetic attempt at defiance, and he just chuckles.
“Oh, I’m just getting started, Peyton,” he whispers, his gaze dropping back to my chest, then lower, lingering on the exposed skin where my top used to be.
“And you’re going to love every damn second of it. I’m going to make you confess that little wild thing you’re hiding that you don’t want to say out loud. You’re not as blunt as you want to make me think.”
He dips his head again, not to my breast this time, but trailing a hot, wet line down my sternum, then lower, his breath heating the sensitive skin of my abdomen.
My hips buck involuntarily, a silent plea for more, for less, for him to just do something.
The battle for control is still raging, but right now, my body is definitely losing.
Before I can even formulate another pathetic retort, he shifts.
His fingers dig into my thighs as he gives the command I so desperately crave.
“Spread your legs, Pey,” he says, his voice a low, gravelly whisper that makes my core clench in instant obedience.
My legs part without hesitation, and he doesn’t waste a second.
He thrusts two fingers inside me.
My mind goes blank and my entire body ignites.
Axel doesn’t stop; he pounds into me, never taking his eyes off my cunt, his undivided attention down there.
That makes it insanely hot and consuming.
It’s like he’s trying to memorize every inch of me, then savor it before devouring me whole.
I wonder how his devouring will taste.
Three fingers in.
My head is spinning.
My breathing is ragged; my moans are becoming something else—throaty, a whimper even—but the combined sounds with the squelching of my core only make it more intense.
Just when I think I can’t take it anymore, he adds his thumb, rubbing on my clit.
Tears prickle at the corners of my eyes.
Am I becoming more sensitive or are his fingers just something else?
“Isn’t it about time you confess… that little wild thing?” Axel smiles, finally staring at my face.
My face that’s been flushed and beet-red, probably streaked with tears and smeared lipstick.
I can’t respond; my throat is tight, my mind a tangled mess of what just happened and what he was implying.
My silence only seems to fuel him, because then he makes it worse, sinking his fingers deeper inside me until his entire hand almost fits in.
I grit my teeth, trying not to scream.
But Axel has only just begun.
He flings his hand from my core, grabbing my thighs, making my butt fall into his lap.