Page 35 of Imprisoned

His rhythm falters momentarily, my honesty catching him off guard. Then he growls, low and possessive, and his movements become even more intense.

“I know I shouldn’t,” I gasp. “I know it’s wrong. But I don’t care anymore. The feeling of you fills me completely. Your fingerprints bruising my skin. The way you make me feel so—” I break off as another wave of pleasure crashes through me.

“Don’t stop now,” he urges his voice a velvety growl of encouragement. “You’re finally being honest with yourself. Tell me more.”

“I’ve never needed anything like I need you,” I admit, the raw truth breaking through my defenses. “Every forbidden thing you do to me makes me crave more.”

Suddenly, Axel’s hands grip my waist, and before I can process what’s happening, he yanks me off the desk in one fluid motion. My feet barely touch the ground as he spins me around to face him, his eyes burning with intensity.

“I want to see your face when you come for me again,” he groans.

He lifts me up like I weigh nothing, his powerful hands gripping my thighs. Instinctively, I wrap my legs around his waist as he slams me against the wall. The impact knocks a framed diploma to the floor—my doctorate in psychology, shattered glass, a perfect metaphor for my broken ethics.

But I don’t care. I can’t care. Not now.

Axel enters me again in one powerful thrust that makes me cry out. My hands find purchase on his broad shoulders, nails digging into skin slick with sweat. The new angle hits something deep inside me that makes my vision blur.

“Keep your eyes on me,” he demands, gripping my jaw. “I need to see those pretty blue eyes while I fuck you.”

I force my eyes open, meeting his gaze. What I see there terrifies me—possessiveness, hunger, obsession—all reflecting my yearning. He captures my mouth in a bruising kiss that’s more claiming than caressing. His tongue invades, dominating, exploring every corner of my mouth as his hips maintain their relentless rhythm.

The kiss is savage and passionate—nothing like the careful, measured ones I’ve known. Axel bites my lower lip hard enough to draw blood, and the metallic taste mingles between us as he groans into my mouth.

My back scrapes against the wall with each thrust, adding streaks of pain that heighten the pleasure. I’m pinned between the unyielding surface and his unstoppable force, completely at his mercy. And God help me, I love it.

His kiss consumes me like wildfire, burning away my reservations. At this moment, I’m not Dr. Matthews anymore. I’m just Willow—raw, exposed, and surrendering to the most wicked cravings I’ve ever known.

As we collapse together, spent and trembling, the reality of what we’ve done settles over me. I’ve crossed a line I can never cross. The professional boundaries I swore to uphold lie in tatters around us.

“You should go,” I whisper, though my body still clings to his. “The guards will be back soon.”

Axel’s eyes hold mine, something unreadable flickering in their depths. “This changes everything, you know.”

I nod, unable to form words, as he slowly withdraws from me, leaving me empty and aching. We dress in silence, the air between us charged with unspoken promises and dangerous possibilities.

When Martinez knocks on the door, Axel is seated in his chair again, restraints loosely in place, his expression masterfully composed. Only the slight swelling of his lips andthe satisfied gleam in his eyes betray what transpired between us.

“Time’s up,” Martinez announces, eyeing us suspiciously.

I straighten the papers on my desk, avoiding his gaze. “Thank you, officer.”

“Looking forward to our next session, Dr. Matthews,” Axel purrs as they lead him away, the double meaning clear in his tone.

After they leave, I sink into my chair, my body still humming with aftershocks of pleasure and the dawning horror of what I’ve become. The weekend stretches before me—two days without seeing him, without feeling his touch. The thought leaves me hollow in a way I never anticipated.

17

AXEL

Ijolt awake in my cramped cell, sweat dripping down my face. Her scent still lingers in my mind, haunting me like a phantom I can’t shake. It’s been nearly twelve hours since I left her office, but my body still throbs with the memory of being inside her.

“Damn it.” I punch my thin mattress in frustration. This wasn’t supposed to happen—not the sex, but this... aftermath. This constant replay of her face, her sounds, how she yielded to me completely.

“Get out of my head,” I snarl to the empty cell.

The weekend stretches ahead like an endless void. Two whole days without seeing those big blue eyes, without watching her squirm under my gaze. What’s happening to me? I’m not some lovesick teenager writing her name in hearts.

I pace my cell, trying to focus on anything else—the prison politics, Marcus’s crew, my next move. But her face keeps floating back into my thoughts. The way she bites her lip when she’s nervous. Her hands are not that steady when she writes in her little notebook.

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