Page 12 of Guarded By a Broody Biker

“Uh-huh?”

“This is… you feel…”

“I know.” My nails rake down the front of Axel’s chest, whispering against his t-shirt. Did I leave a mark beneath the fabric? Even a faint one? “I know, I know.”

He flips me around without warning; rearranges me so we’re both facing the door with my back to his chest, my legs flopped out over his thighs. His breaths are heavy in my ear.

“So fucking pretty,” Axel says, cupping between my legs without any messing around. It sends a jolt through my whole body. “You know that, Jem? You’re so fucking pretty, it’s hard to look at you. Every time I do, it’s like my chest cracks open.”

His words run together, muttered against my neck, and I whine as Axel’s palm grinds against the crotch of my shorts. His hand is so big and broad and strong, so unlike how it feels when I cup my pussy myself, and my eyes flutter when I picture thecalluses there, the patches of rough skin, the way his hand might feel pressed against me, completely bare—

“Andthis,” Axel grits out, squeezing my pussy even harder, practically shaking it to make his point. I’m a doll in his hands, and it’s so freaking hot I could wail. “Bet this tastes like heaven. Bet it’s all wet and sticky for me now. Isn’t it?”

The armchair creaks beneath our joined weight, and my breaths come in short, desperate pants. I nod feverishly, too worked up to speak. How long have we been rubbing on each other? One minute? Ten? Twenty?

Axel is so hot and hard against my back, the proof of his arousal digging mercilessly into my left ass cheek; he cages me against his chest with his strong, inked arms. I’m held and treasured and owned andhis, and whatever he wants to do to me right now, I’ll let him.

I trust this man.

And the relief of that is so powerful, it makes my knees weak. It’s been so long since I had another person to rely on, even temporarily. Even only for one night.

“You want me to touch it? Lick it?” Axel noses the patch of skin beneath my ear, rumbling out a laugh when I squirm. His beard is tickly. “Tell me what you want, princess. I’ll make you feel good.”

But: “I don’tknow,” I wail, bucking against his hand and gasping at the friction. “I don’t know. I’ve—I’ve never—”

“But you want it?”

“Yes.” The word hisses out of me, and maybe I’d be embarrassed by this whole display if I had space in my brain for a single rational thought. Instead, there’s only room for Axel, and how good he feels, and how if he stops touching me now, I’ll die.

“We’ll keep it simple, then,” Axel says, pulling his palm away so he can hook both thumbs in the waistband of my shorts.I raise my ass so he can drag them down my legs, my limbs trembling with arousal. “No need to get fancy on your first time.”

There are slick patches already on the insides of my thighs. They gleam in the light from the TV screen.

Behind me, Axel curses under his breath and drops my shorts to the rug.

This time, when he cups between my legs, he grinds his palm against my bare body. We both groan as he finds how slick I am, how swollen and needy, my hips bucking as I chase his touch.

“Easy,” Axel mutters, wrapping one arm around my waist and yanking me back into his lap—back against his chest, and with his hard bulge beneath my butt. Back where I freaking belong. “You’re gonna thrash right onto the floor.”

“Feels good…”

He puffs out a laugh. “Yeah. It sure fucking does.”

We find our rhythm slowly, our bodies grinding together in the light from the TV screen. It takes a second for it to click in my brain, but once I understand the dance we’re doing… I never want to stop.

Axel grinds the heel of his palm between my legs, catching that little bundle of nerves and making my whole body sing. Meanwhile I pant and squirm and clench down on nothing, and every time my ass rubs over his bulge beneath me, my skin flushes even hotter.

“Please,” I beg, and I don’t even know what I’m asking for, exactly. Only that I need more.

Axel pauses where he’s sucking a bruise against my throat, then speaks against the reddened skin. “Okay, princess. Okay.”

My whole body jolts, electrified, as Axel’s thick middle finger traces a line up my slit. He circles my entrance, still grinding down against me with his palm.

I scrabble at the armchair, then squeeze his forearms for balance. They’re corded and warm, tattoos shifting as his muscles flex.

“Do it,” I pant, and he circles his fingertip again, teasing me. “Oh, god.Please. Do it.”

Axel bites down on my shoulder, holding me steady between his teeth as he presses inside.

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