My So-Called Sex Life (How to Date, #1)(76)

He presses his forehead to mine. “You and your incessant need for book sex.”

“Your fault. You introduced me to it,” I taunt, then I flash him a sexy smile. “So, can we?”

“We can play that game every day. But there’s something we need to do in the room tonight,” he says, his voice rumbly, dominant.

I tremble. I’m already excited and he hasn’t even told me what we’re doing. “Name it.”

“How about I show you?”

I grab his hand and I run.

Yes, I fucking run.



“Show me now,” I tell him the second the door closes.

He grabs my face, hauls me in for a greedy kiss. It’s passionate and possessive, and also…romantic.

His hands cup my cheeks tenderly as his lips devour me hungrily. It’s so very Axel—he’s rough and demanding, but passionate and sensitive too.

When he breaks the kiss, his lips quirk into a vulnerable grin. “I want you to show me something, actually.”

“Yes?” I say, already breathless.

“How you look riding my cock.” His words are filthy, but his tone is thick with longing. “I’ve been fantasizing about this for so long. I need you on top of me. Need to watch you climb on me, straddle me, and take me fucking deep.”

I go up in flames.

A few minutes later, I’m close, so damn close. I’m riding Axel, and he’s gripping my hips, and not taking his eyes off me.

“Beautiful,” he praises, and that word strikes me as…almost odd.

“You’ve never called me beautiful before,” I say as I rise up, then down, a burst of pleasure radiating through me.

He grabs me harder, fucks me deeper. “I know,” he grunts.

It’s purposeful. His word choice. Everything he says is intentional. It means something. But then pleasure spins higher in me, and I can’t think anymore.

I can only feel these intense sparks.

“Play with your tits for me,” he demands.

As I ride him I comply, fondling my breasts while he stares at me savagely, his gaze pinned to my hands on my tits.

He’s breathing so hard, almost feral. And there’s something wild in his eyes. Something I haven’t seen the other times we’ve slept together.

“You look so fucking sexy. You feel so fucking good,” he says in a mad rush, then it’s like he can’t stop. “I’ve wanted you for so long. Craved this so many times. Fucking needed you.”

His words ignite a storm of bliss inside me. Then he reaches between my thighs, strokes my clit, and sends me soaring.

My world blurs. I’m groaning, panting, crying out as I crest.

Then, when the orgasm starts to ebb, he flips me over in one rough move, pushing me down on the bed, hiking my legs onto his shoulders. He slides back into me, and he’s unleashed. Unlocked. He’s fucking me ferociously. “I swear, Hazel,” he mutters. “Need you so much. Want you so much.”

And on that naked admission, he shudders, then stills.

I grip his ass hard, holding him tight to me, feeling all his…pent-up emotions as he comes.

That’s what was in his eyes.

Love and passion. Lust and years of longing.

It’s so surreal, and so wonderful at the same time.

After we separate and clean up, we return to bed.

“That was…different,” I say.

“A Hazel weird different?” His eyebrow arches in question.

“Weird good,” I say, setting my palm on his chest, savoring the slick warmth of his skin.

He meets my gaze, unapologetically. “I was a little…overwhelmed.”

“I noticed.”

“Yeah?”

“I liked it,” I add.

“Did you now?”

“You were very intense. It was like a whole new level of sex. Were you holding back before?”

With a sigh, he nods. “I was. I had to. I didn’t want to let on. I didn’t want to blurt out I fucking love you during sex.”

I furrow my brow, unsure if I want to hear that during sex. But if he wants to say it, I think I’d be okay with it. “Will you say it now?”

He scoffs. “No. It’s cheesy. I’m not cheesy. Also, it was a metaphor, Hazel.”

I roll my eyes, slug his arm. “I know that. I was able to identify the metaphor from the context clues. But then I wasn’t sure if you were hiding the truth inside a metaphor.”

He laughs, then runs his fingers through my hair. “It’s the truth of how I feel. And I just…had to hold back.” His laughter ceases. His eyes turn intensely serious. “I don’t want to hold back now.”

My heart pounds harder for him. “Don’t hold back anymore.”

“I won’t,” he says, then he exhales hard, a long sigh of relief, like he’s been waiting to sigh forever. It’s humbling to be the one he feels all those things for. I want to deserve all these emotions. I want to keep earning this…adoration.

“I won’t hold back either,” I say, then I snuggle against him. But I’m not ready to crash. Something else tugs at my mind. “You called me beautiful for the first time. I don’t think you’ve ever called me pretty or beautiful.”