Page 20 of Imprisoned

“Absolutely. Get some rest—adjusting to any job is exhausting, especially as demanding as yours.”

Her concern makes me feel guilty. If only she knew what was really keeping me from eating and sleeping.

“Thanks, Mom.” I kiss her cheek. “Love you.”

“Love you too, honey. Sleep well.”

I head upstairs, my steps quickening as I near my room. The tape recorder waits exactly where I left it.

I change into my pajamas, the soft fabric doing little to soothe my fraying nerves. The tape recorder sits on my desk, a silent temptation mocking me. I should erase the recording and draw a firm line between my professional and private life.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I snatch up the recorder, plug in my headphones, and slide under the covers. Hitting “play,” I fast-forward to the part where Axel starts describing his fantasies—my throat goes dry.

“I’d start by binding you. Arms above your head, legs spread wide. Then, very slowly, I’d use my mouth on you. Everywhere. Teasing you until you’re begging me to let you come.”

My body’s reaction is immediate. A familiar ache settles between my thighs, and I bite my lip, shame warring with infatuation. Axel’s deep baritone wraps around me like a sinful embrace, making me want to abandon protocol.

His voice painting the raw, unfiltered fantasy in my mind makes me hot. My eyes drift shut as his words paint sinful pictures in my mind. A soft groan escapes me, fueling the arousal unfurling inside me.

I lower my hand, my fingers tracing the outline of my pajama pants where they cling to my pussy. I pause before slowly slipping my hand beneath the fabric.

My skin is hot, and my thighs are already damp. One finger traces lazy circles as Axel’s voice coaxes my cravings to the surface.

“You’re imagining it right now. Your pretty little mind is picturing what it’d be like to be used by me. Filled by me.”

I bite my lip, my heart pounding in my chest as I imagine it’s Axel’s body pressing me into the mattress. My finger slips between my folds, finding my aching center. A gasp escapes me at the first touch. My body’s insatiable need startles me.

“I’d eat it like it’s my last meal. Tongue-fucking you until your juices drip down my chin. Sucking your clit until you scream my name.”

His words are my undoing. I give in to the urge and slip two fingers inside myself. I’m so wet, so ready for it. My hips buck into my hand as I stroke my aching clit with my thumb.

I imagine Axel’s strong hands pinning mine above my head. My back arches as I thrust my fingers in and out, desperately seeking release.

“Then, I’d slide my cock inside. Slow at first, watching your face as I stretch you open.”

I bite my lip hard to stifle a moan. My fingers move faster, fueled by his words, my body responding to the dirty images his dialogue conjures.

“But I wouldn’t let you come. Not yet. I’d fuck you toward your orgasm and make you ride the edge, screaming my name.”

“Fuck!” Pleasure explodes through me as I ride out the intense wave. My breath comes in ragged gasps, my heart pounding like a drum in my chest.

My hand slows, my body sated for now, but my mind still racing with the forbidden images Axel has planted there.

I freeze, the reality of what I’ve just done crashing down on me. Shame crawls over my skin like a thousand insects. Quickly, I turn off the recorder, and my fingers hover over the “erase” button—I should do it. It’s the sensible thing to do.

Instead, I carefully place the tape back into its case and hide it like contraband at the back of my nightstand drawer. Like I’m an addict with a secret stash. The irony isn’t lost on me.

I climb back into bed, torn between my guilty conscience and the remnants of arousal still tingling in my body. Axel has invaded my mind, infecting me with cravings I don’t understand.

Sleep eventually takes me, but it’s restless and filled with vivid dreams. Dreams where I’m bound and at Axel’s mercy, his eyes fixed on me with unyielding intensity. Dreams where I cry his name like a prayer, each syllable a testament to my surrender.

When I wake, drenched in sweat and breathing hard, I make a decision in the darkness before dawn. A reckless, career-ending decision. But the pull toward Axel is stronger than my professional ethics and years of training and boundaries. I need more of him—his words, presence, and darkness- and I’m willing to cross whatever lines are necessary to get it.

The rational part of my brain screams warnings as I formulate my plan, but I silence it. Once awakened, some hungers demand to be fed at any cost.

11

WILLOW

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