Page 112 of Shattered Jewel

It’s rare for Axe to let his guard down, and it’s rarer still for him to reveal any semblance of vulnerability. I reach out tentatively, brushing my fingers against the rough skin of his hands. Axe flinches at the contact, but doesn’t pull away.

A flicker of strain passes over his control as he levels a laden look at me. Just for a moment, I’m reminded of the uncanny intensity that drew me to him in the first place.

“It’s okay,” I say softly, hoping to reassure him even as unease puts pressure on my heart. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

Without another word, Axe covers my mouth with his, desperate and demanding. The shock of it reverberates through me as he backs me up against the wall.

I try to protest, but the softness of his lips, the urgency of his tongue, the sharp bite of his teeth, captures all of me, and I’m lost in him.

Axe grips my hips, holding me close as he deepens our kiss, his body heat singing through my clothes.

The taste of him is addictive, fresh air and sea salt. My sighs linger in the air as our lips move together, seeking an unbreakable connection.

He presses his groin into my stomach, hard and demanding. My fingers tangle in his hair and I return his kiss with just as much fervor.

Sasha’s still sleeping on the couch around the corner. If she woke up and decided to inspect the strange sounds, we’d be caught and I’d be embarrassed, but I can’t bring myself to pull away from him. Axe’s touch kindles an inferno that burns away all thoughts of caution and reason.

He drags his lips down my jawline to my neck, dragging his teeth over my skin before pressing his hot tongue against it. My pulse flutters, trapped under his teeth as he groans against it, seemingly satisfied with my response.

Axe’s hands roam lower, tracing slow circles around my hips before moving to my thighs. Every brush of his hand sets off seismic ripples through my body, and I’m getting wetter by the second, soaking through my leggings.

The fleeting thought that we should go upstairs is soon swept away as Axe’s hot mouth travels lower, kissing along my collarbone and down to the swell of my breasts. He pulls my hoodie and shirt over my head, discarding it carelessly on the floor. His lips trail fire across my bare skin to the lace-edged bra I’d worn, as if I’d sensed that at least one of them would strip me today, even if my brain hadn’t caught up yet.

Axe kneads my breasts through my bra, his thumbs brushing over my already stiffened nipples. The sensation shoots straight through me and I can’t hold back a gasp. He looks into my eyes at the sound.

“More,” he growls, sending a delicious tremor down my spine.

His voice is dark and gravelly, edged with a desperation that’s like a raw, open wound. His low command paints my skin with invisible brushstrokes of liquid fire, pooling between my legs in a sweet, throbbing ache.

Axe lowers his mouth to one hardened nipple, sucking it through the lacy fabric. I moan loudly, arching against him and digging my fingers into his shoulders. He unclasps the hook of my bra with a swift motion, letting it fall away.

“Axe,” I gasp as he hooks one of my legs around his waist.

“Hate this,” he mutters, tearing at the fabric of my leggings with unbelievable ease. His fingers brush against the heat of my center and I whimper at the sudden contact. “Hate how they make you feel like you’re less than them.” He pulls back to look into my eyes—those piercing gray storm clouds burning with defiance and agonizing need.

“No...” I breathe, shaking my head, desire churning in throat and thickening my voice. “You’re not less than anyone. You’re more.”

Axe watches me as I say it, something like guilt churning in the depths of his hurricane eyes. But there’s also his ruthless vulnerability, his ferocity and tenderness, all intertwining until my heart aches with the sheer beauty of him.

He slides what’s left of my leggings down, bunching them along with the slick fabric of my underwear around one ankle.

I’m left bare to him. And even though I’ve been on this precipice with Axe and the others before, each time feels so different. So much more vital and profound.

His fingers tease along my folds, finding me drenched for him. A shudder weakens my knees at his touch. It’s like he knows just what to do to unravel me completely. The pad of his thumb presses against my clit, and I whimper.

The sound seems to fuel him. Axe’s fingers slip inside, curling in just the right way that makes my back arch off the wall.

A groan rumbles from his chest, resonating as though he were a seismic force and I the ground beneath him, shaking from the tremor. Then he withdraws his fingers and brings them to his lips, tasting me on them and watching for my reaction.

“Delicious,” he murmurs.

I bite my lip.

His pupils dilate.

I reach out to him then, my hand sliding over the rough terrain of his scarred back through his shirt, feeling it tense under my touch.

“I want you,” I whisper.

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