Page 9 of Always A Villain
His response is instant—he slams into me, harder, faster, bending me to his will. Pain and pleasure blend into something primal until I can't tell where one ends and the other begins.
I’m lost in him, lost in the raw power of it all, and I love every savage second.
Suddenly, he shoves me forward, forcing me face-down onto the bed. The angle makes me gasp—intense, deep,perfect. I’m pinned, helpless, at his mercy.
“Come for me, little siren,” he snarls, voice dripping with control. “Come on my cock. NOW.”
Releasing my neck, he slaps my ass. The orgasm barrelsthrough me with a force that leaves me screaming his name repeatedly.
I can’t move. Can’t think. Can barely breathe. But he doesn’t stop—he keeps driving into me, his pace becoming desperate. Wrapping his arm around my waist, he holds me up.
He’s close. His grunts are low, gravelly, his body shaking with the effort.
Tears prick at my eyes, the intensity of it all threatening to overwhelm my senses. His cock throbs, his warm cum flooding deep inside me as he shudders, collapsing against me.
He’s heavy on top of me, chest pressed against my back, his arms holding me tight.
I don’t want him to let go. Don’t want this moment to end.
The realization washes over me. After everything—every moment of pain he's caused me, all the things he said, every tear he's yanked from me—it doesn’t matter. Not when he looks at me like this, not when his touch ignites something inside me that I can’t explain. It’s more than lust. More than a craving. It’s something I’d rather choke on than admit.
I want to hate him. I want to pretend I’m not falling for him, but let’s be real, I am. And that’s not the worst part.
No, the worst part is that he’ll never feel the same.
Axel Hawthorne doesn’t love. He doesn’t feel. He doesn’t want anything but a toy to play with, and that’s all I’ll ever be to him.
He slowly pulls out, groaning deeply. When he rolls onto his side, the emptiness he leaves behind is a physical ache. I move onto my back, the dull throb between my legsreminding me of his strength.
Propping himself up, his face hovers inches from mine. “I’m not done with you.”
“Axe, I can’t…” But before I can finish, his mouth crashes into mine, his tongue slipping inside with a fierce urgency. When he finally breaks away, I’m breathless, his scent filling my lungs, his taste lingering on my lips.
With a sudden movement, he grabs my hips and lays back, tugging me toward him.
“No, Axe,” I protest, squirming against his hold. “I’m too sensitive.”
Ignoring me, he moves my legs over his shoulders, pulling me closer until his mouth finds my pussy. I gasp as his tongue laps up the mixture of our cum.
The way his mouth sucks and kisses has my hips grinding against him, his hands gripping and squeezing my ass as he plunges his tongue deep inside me. My fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, grinding on his mouth as another orgasm builds, tension tightening in my core.
“Fuck, Rory, you taste delicious,” he murmurs, his voice muffled against my skin. His hand smooths up my waist to grip my breast, kneading hard.
“Axel,” I pant.
“Come on, little siren,” he urges, pinching my nipples, the sharp sting making me jerk and buck against him. “Let me taste that sweet cum.” His tongue swirls around my clit, the scrape of his teeth sending shock waves all the way down to my toes.
“Rory, give me what I fucking want.” I’m powerless to resist his command—I snap. I scream his name until my voicegives out, my body convulsing under the force of pleasure. He continues to lick and suck, his mouth devouring me, each sensation testing my limits. I squirm, pushing him away, but his hands clamp down on my thighs, holding me in place as he laps up my arousal.
Finally, he releases me, and I collapse against the bed, muscles weak and heart racing. He reaches out, cradling my chin, and a smirk tugs at his lips.
“Such a good girl,” he murmurs, his fingers grazing my cheek. His praise sends a warmth flooding through me, and I lean into his touch.
“Axe—” Before I can finish, his lips capture mine, silencing every thought in my head. I moan as I taste myself on his tongue. My arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer, reveling in the softness of his lips and the heat of his body.
Breaking the kiss, I meet his intense gaze, searching for something in those dark brown eyes. “Did you mean what you said after the hospital...that you don’t hate me?” The words have been on replay in my mind, a fragile hope clinging to each syllable.
“Yes,” he replies, his fingers tracing the brand on my ass, a possessive gesture that makes my heart sickeningly flutter. “I don’t hate you.”
