Chapter Thirty-Eight
Thirty-Eight
Josie
I am having sex with Axe MacKenzie. Except I’m not.
But I am. And also not. I swear I can feel his fingers trace the skin of my inner thigh and dip between my legs. I can feel my juices trickling down. I can hear him narrating what he wants to do to me, and I have no doubt I will let him.
If these suits go on sale, this man will be a billionaire. I’ll never want to leave my house again.
“Oh, you taste so good,” Axe says, and I see his head bobbing between my thighs now.
I don’t understand how any of this works, but his tongue is lapping at me and luxuriating in my pussy.
I can see it and feel it, even though my rational brain knows this is not possible.
That the shifting weight I feel on the bed next to me is the real Axe and not this phantom in front of me.
And yet his tongue is absolute magic—none of that stupid, basic tracing-the-alphabet shit that Bryan must have learned from TikTok. Axe keeps bringing me to the edge, and then slowing down, as if he’s having too much fun to let me climax.
“I could do this all night,” Axe says. Soon, his fingers join his tongue and find their way inside me at the perfect angle. One, then two, then three, and I feel myself stretching to accommodate him, feel him touch that impossible-to-reach spot inside.
Damn, he is so good at this.
“I want you to come all over my face. Can you do that for me, luv?”
His dirty talk is working—honestly, before now, I didn’t even know I liked dirty talk in real life—and I can’t get enough.
He swirls his tongue on my clit one last time, and then my entire body tightens, my spine tingles, and suddenly my orgasm hits so hard and fast, I can’t help but scream out my pleasure.
I have sampled every toy in Grace & Honor and even a bunch I brought home from Toygasm. Still, I have never come so hard in my entire life. I’m shaking from head to toe, giddy and alive, and all I want is more, more, more.
What is this sorcery?
“I need you. Can I take you now? Please, Josie,” Axe begs, and I nod, because I’m so wrung out and messy I can’t even talk.
He pumps his cock with his fist once, twice, and suddenly I’m wondering how accurate a representation this is—he can’t be that big, can he?
And then I stop thinking at all, because he thrusts himself inside me.
I’m filled to the hilt with him, and I reflexively clench around him.
“Jesus,” he groans. “So fucking perfect.”
He pulls out slowly, gently, and then pushes himself right back in. I gasp.
“Are you okay?” he asks as he cups my face and tucks a hair behind my ear.
“Eh, all right,” I joke, and he laughs, and for just a second, he presses his lips against mine, and the moment is so tender I feel tears spring to my eyes. I hope the thin, soft actuator pads on my forehead, cheeks, and lips can’t pick up the rush of emotion I suddenly feel.
Axe starts thrusting harder and faster, and I’m gasping now. He feels too good. Too real. Too everything. How can it be like this?
“Shit,” he says. “Fuck. So good.” And then he picks up the pace, and my eyes roll back in my head with the pleasure of it all.
He lifts my legs so they’re on his shoulders now, and that changes the angle, and it’s exactly right—how did he do that?
How does he know? He’s not even really touching me.
But the thought gets lost as I’m notched higher and higher and his groans grow louder and louder until we both explode within seconds of each other.
I’m so limp and ruined, with the ecstasy of the whole experience etched into my soul.
Now that I know sex can be this—fucking perfect, as Axe put it, and yeah, those are exactly the right words—how can I go back to normal life?
Pay bills, eat vegetables, ring up customers?
When I could spend my time doing this? With Axe MacKenzie. Or at least virtual Axe MacKenzie.
We slowly return to Earth, and I don’t know what the etiquette is here. Do we talk? Do we take off our masks and see each other’s faces in all their postcoital glory?
On my screen, Axe reaches for me again, pulling me in, and just like that, virtual me is the small spoon to his big spoon, and we’re cuddling. A wave of relaxation and peace floods through me, and I drift off to sleep.
It’s only hours later, when I wake up disoriented, my mask having fallen to the floor, that I realize we are mirroring our avatars in real life.
Axe’s actual body is glued to mine—he’s taken off his suit—and his arm is thrown casually over my waist, his maskless face nuzzled into my neck.
Soft rain pitter-patters against the window.
I am not going to freak out. Instead, I get up quietly without waking Axe, wiggle out of this magic sex machine, and fold it neatly on the chair. Then I crawl back into bed, and Axe sleepily pulls me up against him again. I sink into the delicious glory of this very real man while I still can.