My So-Called Sex Life (How to Date, #1)(46)

Until now.

“Oh, god,” I gasp at the first flick of his tongue.

I rope my hands through his soft hair as he kisses me nice and slow and so luxuriously, like I’m the appetizer, the dinner, the whole meal.

I could get lost in this kind of attention. It’s decadent. It’s pulsing. It’s a mix of midnight and starlight and fire. “So good,” I murmur.

That spurs him on, and he kisses me even more passionately. I’m dying to come, but I really want him to fuck me. To throw me down, to push me against the wall, to take me. The images send me spiraling to the edge.

“Fuck me now. Just fuck me,” I demand, tugging on his hair to pull him up, but I pull him closer instead.

It’s too late to stop this climax. I’m coming hard, and holy fuck.

This is book sex, and I’m having it, and it’s not stopping. Pleasure seizes my body as I tremble all over. Euphoria radiates everywhere, and I want to bask in it. But I want more too.

Seconds later, I tug him up and grab at his jeans, in a frenzy to take off his clothes.

“Now. I want your dick. Just give me your dick.” I sound like a madwoman.

Because I am a madwoman.

“You can have it all,” he says, like he’s won every prize.

In seconds, I’ve got his shirt off, and he’s found a condom in his wallet, and we’re both shoving down his jeans and his boxer briefs.

His cock springs free, thick and hard.

But the sight of it jars me.

It’s like I’m having an out-of-body experience. Is this really me, on a train, the French countryside rattling by outside that window? Am I truly about to sleep with my once-upon-a-time friend, my former partner, my enemy who’s no longer my enemy? My almost lover?

I never thought we’d do this.

Now it’s all I want, but am I being impetuous? “This is weird,” I blurt out.

Stopping his work opening the condom wrapper, he frowns. His dick is rock hard, aiming at me, as he says, “What’s weird?”

But I hear, Do you not want this? Should I stop? What’s going on?

I reach out to reassure him. His dick, that is. I stroke his cock, thrilling at the velvety smoothness, the pulsing hardness. Touching him sends shivers down my spine. “You and me,” I say, breathy and mesmerized at the sight of him in my hand. “It’s weird to be naked with you. It’s weird to watch you put on a condom. But it’s a good weird. Don’t you think?”

“Uh…” Speechlessness is rare for Axel.

“Sorry,” I say, feeling foolish. “I didn’t mean to ruin the vibe by talking.”

He shudders. “You didn’t. It’s good.”

“What’s good?”

“Your hands on me, Hazel. It’s so fucking good,” he grits out as I run my hand over the head of his cock. “But if it’s weirding you out, we should stop.”

No fucking way. I squeeze him harder. “Don’t you dare stop.”

With a smile, he resumes rolling on the protection. Then he roams a hand up my thigh, hitching up my leg, hooking it around his waist. Slotting his body to mine, he rubs his length against me.

“Oh fuck.” He groans like I’m his dirty fantasy.

It’s heady, his desire. Especially since it matches all my wild, newly unleashed desire for him.

He notches the head against my entrance and then slides home. Filling me. Stretching me.

He eases out, his lips quirking up. Slowly, luxuriously he slides in, inch by inch. Then he’s buried inside me. He takes a moment to breathe, maybe to savor the way we feel, before he says, with a hint of a smile, “Even better.”

I meet his eyes. “Yeah, it’s even better,” I repeat. The words—even better—feel like our little secret.

Our dirty, sexy secret as he fucks me against the door, on a luxury train, coasting across Europe, no one suspecting what’s happening here in this compartment.

Long, deep thrusts fill me. Jolt me. They make me feel used in the best of ways.

His fingers curl around my hip, gripping me tightly. His other hand loops through my hair. I yelp a little at the pull.

“Too much?”

“Not enough,” I whisper.

He pulls harder. I lean my head back, savoring the roughness.

It’s demanding.

It’s real.

It’s raw.

“Tell me what you need,” he commands.

The intensity of the order thrills me.

“Fingers,” I gasp.

He slides a hand between my thighs. He’s rubbing my clit, filling my body, fucking me hard, slamming my back against the door.

I’m going to have bruises from banging against it, and I can’t wait.

I want to be fucked in a way that’s not enjoyable. That’s not good.

In a way that is great. That’s toe-curlingly, sheet-grabbingly great.

Just like this.

As he strokes me, fast and insistent, pleasure coils in my center. I tense, then my orgasm crashes into me, hard and punishing, beautifully brutal.

It’s everything I’ve ever written and nothing I’ve ever experienced.

I feel savage, and sexy, and very well fucked. I can’t stop moaning.

Axel’s not done though. He cups my jaw, squeezing it as he pumps, thrusts, then stills and shakes. For a mouthy man, he’s quieter than I’d have expected. He says nothing as he comes. Just shudders.