Chapter 8
Sorcha
No sooner have I closed the door to my bedroom, it opens again.
Axl stands there, giving me a look that screams exactly what he wants from me.
I’m happy to give it. He closes the door behind him, and I strip off my oversized tee and joggers, slowly, giving him a show.
His eyes track the movement, green and predatory, and a thrill, sharp and potent, shoots through me.
This isn’t submission. It’s a challenge.
A declaration. My body is my own, and I’m choosing to give it to him.
The clothes pool at my feet, leaving me bare in the warm air of the room.
My skin prickles, my nipples pebble into tight, hard points under his stare.
He doesn’t move, except for a slow, appreciative smile curving his lips. He’s savouring it. Savouring me.
“Come here, sunshine,” he says finally, his voice a low, velvet rasp that strokes over my skin.
I don’t move. I just lift my chin, a silent dare. If he wants me, he can fucking come and get me.
The smile widens, turning feral at the edges.
He crosses the room in long, silent strides that eat up the space between us.
He stops an inch from me, his heat a brand against my skin.
He doesn’t touch me, not yet. He just looks, his gaze a caress that travels from my eyes, down my throat, lingering on my breasts before tracing the curve of my waist and hips.
“You’re a work of art,” he murmurs, his hand finally rising to cup my jaw.
“A masterpiece of violence and fucking temptation.” His thumb brushes over my bottom lip, and I lean into the touch, my body humming with a need that eclipses the exhaustion, the pain, everything.
His hand slides down my throat, his fingers stretching out along the curve of my neck, just under my jaw.
It’s a possessive hold, a grip that flexes just tight enough to make my pulse jump.
“From the second I saw you walk into the Pit, all fiery hair and fierce eyes, I knew you were going to be trouble,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that vibrates against my skin. “The kind of trouble I want to wrap my hands around and fucking devour.”
His other hand mirrors the first, both of them circling my throat. It’s not enough to cut off air, but it’s enough to show me he is stronger than me.
“You think you can handle me, Rhodes?” I challenge. His eyes flash, and the corner of his mouth quirks up in a smirk that is pure sin. “I know I can. The real question is, can you handle us? All of us?”
His hands tighten, just for a second, a reminder of his strength, of the power he holds over me. Then they slide down, tracing the lines of my collarbone, the curves of my breasts. His touch is electric, sending jolts of sensation straight to my clit. I gasp, arching into him, my body craving more.
“I can handle anything you throw at me,” I say, my voice steady despite the storm raging inside me.
His hands slide down to my waist, his fingers digging into my hips.
He yanks me against him, and I can feel his cock, hard and insistent, pressing against my stomach.
His breath is hot on my ear, his voice a low growl.
“You have no idea what you’re asking for, Sorcha. ”
I do, though. I know exactly what I’m asking for. I want them—all of them. I want the chaos and the violence and the fucking power that comes with it. I want to be at the centre of their storm, a queen among kings.
“Show me,” I demand. “Show me what I’m asking for.”
His eyes flash, a dark, wild hunger that sends a thrill of anticipation through me. He turns me and pushes me back onto the bed. I bounce slightly, my breasts heaving with each breath. He stands at the foot of the bed, his gaze raking over me like I’m a feast laid out for his enjoyment.
“Spread your legs,” he commands, his voice rough as he strips off completely. I comply, my heart pounding in my chest. His eyes drop to my pussy, and he licks his lips, a slow, deliberate motion that makes my clit throb. “Wider.”
I spread my legs wider, feeling exposed and powerful all at once.
He climbs onto the bed, his knees hitting the mattress between my thighs.
He leans down, his breath on my clit makes me shiver.
He’s so close, too close, but not nearly close enough.
I can feel his smile against my inner thigh, a hot press of lips that promises everything and gives away nothing.
He’s teasing me, drawing this out, and it’s taking every ounce of willpower not to grab his head and force him where I want him.
“Axl,” I growl, half-warning, half-plea.
He chuckles, a low, dark sound that vibrates against my skin. “Patience, sunshine. We’ve got all the time in the world.”
His hands slide up my thighs, thumbs tracing circles that send jolts of electricity straight to my core. I squirm, trying to chase the sensation, but his grip tightens, holding me in place. He’s in control, and he knows it. He’s fucking loving it.
Finally, finally, his mouth finds my centre, a hot, wet press of lips and tongue that makes my back arch off the bed. He licks me, a long, slow stroke that ends with a flick against my clit. Stars explode behind my eyes, and I fist the sheets to keep from screaming.
“You taste like fucking heaven,” he murmurs against me, the vibration of his voice sending another wave of pleasure crashing through me.
His tongue delves deeper, exploring every inch of me, like he’s memorising me, claiming me.
His hands slide under my arse, lifting me higher, giving him better access.
His tongue fucks me, hard and relentless, hitting every sensitive spot until I’m a writhing, gasping mess.
Each flick of his tongue, each nip of his teeth sends me spiralling higher, closer to the edge.
“Axl, please,” I beg, not even sure what I’m asking for. More of this? Less? Everything?
His laughter is a dark vibration against my clit. “Please what, sunshine? Tell me what you need.”
“I need—” The words die in my throat as he slides two fingers inside me, curling them to hit that spot that makes my vision go white. “Fuck, yes. That.”
He pumps his fingers in and out, his tongue still working my clit, his other hand gripping my hip to hold me steady. The sensation is overwhelming, a tidal wave of pleasure that threatens to drown me. I can feel the orgasm building, a tight, hot coil in my belly, ready to snap.
“Come for me, Sorcha,” he growls against my flesh. “Let me taste you.”
His words are my undoing. The coil snaps, and I come hard, my body convulsing around his fingers, my hips bucking against his mouth. He rides it out with me, his tongue and fingers drawing out every last wave of pleasure until I collapse back onto the bed, boneless and spent.
He climbs up my body, the heat of his covering mine.
He kisses me, and I can taste myself on his lips, a dark, intimate claim that sends another shiver of desire through me.
His cock presses against my thigh, hard and insistent, and I reach down, wrapping my hand around his length.
He groans into my mouth, his hips jerking against my grip.
“Fuck, Sorcha,” he growls, breaking the kiss to stare down at me, his eyes wild and hungry. “I want to be inside you. I want to feel you come around my cock.”
I stroke him, my thumb circling the sensitive tip, and he curses, his forehead dropping to mine. He settles between my thighs, the head of his cock pressing against my entrance. I wrap my legs around his waist, urging him on, and he slams into me with a single, brutal thrust.
My head falls back, a cry ripping from my throat. He feels so fucking good, stretching me, filling me completely. He starts to move, his hips slamming against mine, each thrust driving me higher, pushing me closer to the edge. His mouth finds mine again, his tongue fucking my mouth.
I can feel another orgasm building,
I dig my nails into his back, urging him deeper, harder. He complies, his cock thrusting with a force that borders on brutal. It’s perfect. It’s everything I need right now. The room fills with the sounds of our bodies coming together, harsh breaths, and low, desperate growls.
My orgasm hits me like a freight train, tearing through my body with an intensity that leaves me shaking and gasping. Axl follows me over the edge, his cock pulsing inside me as he comes with a groan that sounds like it’s ripped from the depths of his soul.
We collapse together, his body heavy on mine, our breaths mingling as we pant in the aftermath. His forehead rests against mine, his eyes closed as he murmurs, “Fucking hell, Sorcha.”
I smile, a sense of satisfaction and contentment washing over me. This is where I belong. Right here, with him, with all of them.
He rolls off me, pulling me into his arms. I rest my head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. His fingers trace lazy patterns on my back, a soft, intimate touch that speaks volumes about how he feels.
“You’re incredible,” he says softly, his voice a low rumble beneath my ear. “I’ve never met anyone like you.”
I prop myself up on his chest, looking down at him with a raised eyebrow. “You haven’t met anyone like me because there is no one like me.”
He chuckles, a deep sound that rumbles through his chest and into my ear. His hand moves to cup the back of my neck, pulling me down for a kiss. It’s slow, languid, a complete contrast to the frantic passion we just shared.
I melt into it, savouring the taste of him, the feel of his lips against mine. When I pull back, his eyes are soft, a contented glow that makes my heart flutter. “No,” he agrees. “There definitely isn’t.”
“Hungry,” I murmur.
“The lasagne should be ready. I timed it perfectly.”
I roll my eyes, sliding off him and out of bed. “Of course you did. You time everything perfectly, don’t you?”
“It’s a gift,” he says, not a hint of modesty in his voice as he follows me, his body a lean, powerful silhouette against the grey, overcast light from the window. He pulls on his clothes, watching me as I grab the joggers and tee, I discarded earlier.
He comes up behind me, his arms wrapping around my waist, his chin resting on my shoulder. “You got this one, sunshine. Next time, you will submit to me. Understand?”
I nod, understanding him perfectly, lacing our fingers together. “Let’s go eat.”