8. Axel
I ’ve never brought a woman back to my place before, and my gut’s writhing with nerves as we pull into the underground parking lot. What if Jem hates it? Or what if she sees a dirty coffee mug on the kitchen counter and the wilted herbs on the shelf and writes me off as a hopeless case?
She jumps off the bike behind me and practically floats to the elevator, so damn excited to see where I live. There’s no way reality can live up to the expectations. Right? No way she won’t be at least a tiny bit disappointed, so doubts clang around my skull as I walk after her.
But as Jem tugs me into the elevator then leaps into my arms for a long kiss, those worries melt away. So what if she hates it? I’ll move somewhere else. Somewhere better. We’ll do it up any way she likes.
Listen: this woman is in my arms, nibbling on my bottom lip like there’s no tomorrow, and there’s nothing I won’t do to keep her there. Moving apartment? No problem.
But when the elevator dings and spills us out onto the top floor, Jem’s delighted gasp says I’ve been fretting over nothing. We stride along the corridor to my door, hands clasped and swinging between us, and as we go, I try to see the whole place through fresh eyes; to see what she sees.
Bare brick walls, and industrial style light fittings, with a dark green carpet and abstract art on the walls. It smells like varnished wood and citrus. Outside the windows, the city marina is swaddled in clouds and flecked with rain, but even on a moody day like today, it’s not a poor sight.
Hey. This place ain’t half bad. And when I slide the key into the lock and push my door open, Jem’s “Oh, wow ” is a balm to my soul.
No, it’s nothing especially fancy. Yes, it’s a little rough around the edges, just like me. But this apartment is clean and spacious and filled with natural light and potted plants, and the view over the water is pretty. There are big, squashy sofas that can bear both our weight, and an open plan kitchen with an island and shiny appliances. I can cook for Jem here; lay her out on a sofa and lick between her legs until she cries; draw her a hot bubble bath in the tub. Treat her the way she deserves.
“Will it do?” I ask, and Jem bursts out laughing, jogging through the rooms with her scarf trailing behind her. I smother a grin as I lock the door behind us, shutting the world outside.
Forget that tiny apartment she’s been living in. Forget her empty refrigerator, and all those hours she must have spent waiting for the bus in the rain. Jem is my girl now, and she doesn’t have to spend another single second worrying about that shit.
I’ll take care of her. It’d be a goddamn honor.
“Axel?” Jem calls from the bedroom. At the sound of her husky voice, the little hairs stand up on the back of my neck. “Will you come here for a second?”
My heart drums in my ears, and I yank the zipper down on my bike jacket and hang it on the hook before kicking off my boots. I follow Jem slowly, drawing in a deep breath, trying to savor this moment before I reach the bedroom.
When I reach the doorway, she’s buck-ass nude on the bed, kneeling up and grinning at me with mischief in her eyes. Her clothes are strewn across my bedroom floor, like she tossed them away without a care.
“Just making myself at home,” Jem says, and I can’t form words. Can’t do anything except grunt, ripping off my t-shirt then yanking at my leathers and shoving them down my thighs. My movements are clumsier than they’ve been in years, but that’s the effect she has on me. My brain is soup.
“Should we—oh!”
Jem falls back, laughing, as I lunge onto the bed and crawl on top of her, the mattress dipping beneath my hands and knees.
We kiss for a while first, bare skin against bare skin, the heat building between us until I can’t stand the tension zinging through my veins for a second longer. Then I cram a hand between us, stroking down Jem’s taut belly until I reach her pubic bone, covered in trimmed hair, and lower, her slick little seam.
She gasps into my mouth, arching up against me.
It’s a little clumsy, since we’re still learning each other. This is all so new. But I’m a quick learner, and soon enough I’ve got her thrashing and moaning, bucking against my hand, riding my pointer and middle fingers where they’re wedged inside her.
“Oh please,” Jem says, tossing her head on the bed covers. “Oh please, oh please.”
My wrist is shiny with her moisture. So goddamn sticky and sweet.
Jem’s body shudders as I draw my fingers out, her channel clutching at my knuckles. She’s not done yet, but that’s okay. That’s good.
“Are we doing this?” I ask, gripping her leg below the knee and folding it back so she’s open to me. Glossy and pink and swollen, the salty tang of her need so heady on the air. “You gonna let me in there, princess?”
“Yes.” Jem scrabbles at my shoulders, breathless with desire. “ Yes , yes. Oh my god, come on. Please, Axel. Do it. Fuck me.”
I pause, breathing slowly through my nose, waiting for the static in my head to clear. Because she just said that, she did—sweet little Jem begged me to fuck her, and it was so hot I forgot my own name.
When I line up with her entrance, we’re both quiet. Tense. Like we’re both scared that somehow this won’t happen after all; a SWAT team will burst through the window and drag me off her, kicking and cursing. Because this can’t be right, it can’t be allowed, neither of us is used to this kind of luck. We can’t get everything we’ve been hoping for.
Teeth gritted, I sink forward an inch. Jem’s tight heat welcomes me, gripping my shaft, her inner muscles fluttering.
“Oh,” she says, her eyes heavy-lidded, and I duck down to kiss her throat. Her skin tastes like salt and fresh rain. “Oh, god. Please .”
Swallowing a groan, I push even deeper.
And deeper.
In… out.
In… out.
My muscles strain against my bones as I work myself gently inside, stretching Jem’s virgin channel. It takes a good long while, because I’m savoring every single second, and ‘cause I’d rather poke my own eyes out than hurt her, but eventually, I’m wedged as deep as I can go.
“Finally,” Jem mumbles, and I know she doesn’t mean that I took too long getting inside. Not when she wraps both arms around my neck and hugs me tight; not when she turns her head to kiss my cheek.
Yeah, finally.
It’s been a long old road to each other.
The moment is soft. Precious.
Then we’re moving again, sweat beading on my back, the mattress plunking gently as our joined weight shifts. Raindrops patter the windows, and wet noises float from where our bodies smack together, and Jem’s hungry little grunts are the best thing I’ve ever heard. Can’t wait to draw a whole new litany of sounds out of her; can’t wait to taste her on my tongue.
But for now, I thrust inside my girl so hard her little tits jiggle, and I squeeze every part of her I can reach. She’s mine, mine , and I’m hers to do whatever she wants with, to ride, to suck, to boss about and wrap around at night.
“Axel,” Jem gasps. Her eyes have turned hazy, and her nails dig into my back. The smell of sex is in the air.
“You’re mine,” I growl, and that does it for her—that’s what snaps her final thread. Jem arches up, head tilted back, and clamps down on my shaft like she’s never gonna let it go.
Pleasure crashes over her in waves, and I feel every tremble and twitch. When she collapses back on the bed a moment later, I am not the same man I was before.
My hips snap forward, and I thrust a few times, chasing my own pleasure. The tension in my gut ratchets tight.
“You’re mine too,” Jem says, stroking tiredly at my chest, and goddamn—
I’ve never come so hard in my life.
* * *
Three years later
The market’s busy this Saturday night, with the food stalls open late for the weekend. The crowd buzzes with laughter and conversation, everyone jammed shoulder to shoulder as they move slowly between stalls, the shared heat of everyone’s bodies rising up to fog the domed glass ceiling.
I cut through the crowd easily, like a hot knife through butter. I may spend my days building custom motorbikes these days, rather than as a bodyguard, but I’m still a mean-looking bastard. When I want to walk somewhere, folks skitter out of my way.
Old habits die hard, so I scan the area as I walk, searching for threats. Part of me’s still on the lookout for Peter the prick—don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget the man who threatened Jem—but really, I’m sure that he left the city three years ago, hurrying out of town with a sloppily packed case and a broken wrist. It’s not just hopeful thinking on my part, either. I’d never risk Jem that way.
Cerberus may not be my boss anymore, but he has eyes and ears everywhere. If I want to know where Peter the prick is and what he’s up to, I only need to send a text.
A wok hisses as I walk past, the scent of noodles making my stomach growl, but I hold the two pizza boxes I just picked up aloft. It’s easy to weave through the crowd to the back left corner of the market, where my wife waits patiently behind her table of candles. When she looks up and spots me, smiling over our baby’s fluffy head, my chest burns with pride.
“Meat feast for me, and one ham and pineapple for the heathen.”
I slide behind the stall, lifting the pizzas over the display. The scent of hot mozzarella and oregano mingles with the vanilla bean candles. Jem kisses our daughter’s head and winks at me. The baby’s sleeping soundly against her front, a pair of padded headphones covering her ears.
“My knight in shining armor.”
She’s teasing, but I grin and shrug. That’s what I want to be for Jem. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to be.
“Any trouble?” she asks, but there’s no fear in the question. No stress. The times when Jem had to worry about creepy guys or pushy customers or paying her bills is long gone, because we’re a team now. We handle things together.
Besides, the biggest threat I’m likely to face in this market is if the pizza guy forgot my pepperoni.
“All good.” I open Jem’s box and arrange it in easy reach. “You don’t have to work late just ‘cause the market’s open, you know. We can go home whenever. Just tell me when you or the baby gets tired.”
“Okay.” Jem takes a giant bite of pizza, then lets out such a filthy groan that my skin flushes hot. I sit down gingerly, acting like I’m worried about the metal seat and not my sudden boner.
“Or we can always duck out if we think of something better to do,” I say as mildly as I can, but Jem flushes pink and yeah… I’m on to a winner.
“We’ll eat first.” She’s not trying to convince me. She’s bargaining with herself.
“Or we could eat half,” I say. “Take the rest home for later.”
She bites her lip against a smile and nods.
Yeah, there’s nothing to stress about here. Life is good.
* * *
Thanks for reading Guarded by a Broody Biker! I hope you loved it. :)
For more growly bodyguards check out the other books in the Back Away From My Girl series!