Page 89 of Scarred Savages
“I trust you, Axel.”
His laugh is rough, bitter. “You shouldn’t; I’m a monster. Been hit a few too many times when cage fighting. Sometimes I think I’m still in those cages.” His hand flexes against me, restless. “My head’s not always right, Wildcat.”
“You’re anything but a monster,” I say. “Monsters are the reason you have this compound; they are the true evil. They lurk in the shadows and inflict pain on the innocent. They take advantage of those who are weaker than themselves. You’re none of that. You’re not evil. Sure, you might be a little unhinged at times, but you’re caring, have a loving heart, and you’re the best cuddle buddy a girl could ask for.” I kiss him again. “And maybe have an unhealthy relationship with that axe of yours, but…I’ve never been scared of you. A little excited, perhaps, but I always knew you would never hurt me intentionally.”
“Fuck you’re perfect.” He kisses me again, harder this time, more demanding. His hand slides higher under my top, thumb brushing the underside of my breast. “I love the little sounds you make, Wildcat,” he says against my lips. “I want to hear them again.”
His thumb circles higher, brushing over my nipple, and I gasp again, my body arching into his touch.
“Good girl,” he murmurs, and the praise sends a thrill through me.
We kiss until my lips feel swollen, until I’m practically panting with need, until I can feel his hardness pressing insistently against me through his sweatpants.
He pulls back slightly, enough for me to catch the wicked grin on his face.
“What are you thinking?” I ask.
Axel’s grin widens. “I’ve got an idea,” he says, his voice low and charged. “Something you’ll like,” he says as he moves me to the bench and disappears inside the shed. He’s back minutes later with his axe.
I raise my eyebrows.
“I want to combine two of my favorite things,” he says.
“Me and… your axe?”
“Smart, Wildcat,” he says, his voice dropping to a register that clenches my thighs. “Give the girl a prize.”
Before I can ask what exactly he means, he moves to the end of the bench, studies it briefly, then drives the axe into the wooden seat at an angle. The blade bites deep, the handle jutting up at around forty-five degrees.
I stare at it, then at him. “You just… put a hole in your bench.”
He laughs, the sound rough and sexy. “I built it. I can put holes wherever I want.” He straddles the bench, positioning himself so the axe handle rises between his spread legs. Then he pats his thighs. “Come here.”
My mouth goes dry as I catch his meaning. “You want me to…”
“Fuck it,” he confirms, eyes burning into mine. “I want you to ride the handle while I watch. I want your juices all over it. I want it to smell like you every time I use it.”
The request is outrageous, but so thoroughly Axel in its audacity that I should be scandalized. Instead, I feel a rush of heat between my legs.
“That’s…” I struggle for words.
“Hot?” he supplies, looking smugly confident. “Dirty? The filthiest thing anyone’s ever asked you to do?”
Yep, all of the above.
“Unsanitary,” I say instead.
“I sanitized it,” he assures me. He then pats his thighs again. “Come here, Wildcat. Let me make you feel good.”
“You’re insane.”
“Never claimed otherwise,” he purrs. “But you’re wet just thinking about it, aren’t you?”
And shifter Gods help me, I go to him.
26
Luna
