Page 136 of Axel

“He does love me,” Ruby rushes. “Thank you for raising a good man. Axel cooks me breakfast and gives me foot massages and?—”

Mom looks at me, sharing the memory of what only she’s seen. My scarred feet. But that was thirty years ago, and no one has seen them since.

Yes, it’s why I massage Ruby’s feet. It’s not a fetish. It’slove. Her feet are perfect with no marks of pain, and that’s how every inch of her body will remain.

Touch my queen, and you’ve taken your last breath.

“She loves me, too.” I want Mom to know, “Ruby likes shining my shoes, and she bought me six pairs of these.” I lift the hem of my dress pants.

“Are those…” Mom trails off, laughing.

“Dickhead socks!” Ruby chirps. “I got him a pair in every color.”

Yeah, Ruby took my soul with these. She understands why I won’t let her see my feet, so she makes sure my shoes are spiffy and my socks are well … cocky.

Fuck, I love her.

“As I said,” Mom brags, “if she ain’t the jam to your jelly, no woman is.”

“She is,” I say. “And I really want to get this over with and take her home.”And fuck her all night.“So, what’s next?”

“Alright then.” Mom hands her cigar to a guard. “I’m going to need your help.”

Oh, fuck.

“Mine?”

“No. Hers.” Mom turns to Ruby. “Have you used a feather tickler before?”

“Uh…” Ruby stammers, nervously looking at me. “No?”

Mom laughs. “Okay. Good. You’re a pro. So, when I tell you to, tickle my captive’s dick and?—”

“The fuck she will!” I bark.

“You tried it your way.” Mom’s calm. “He’s hamstrung, remember? And it didn’t work. And I don’t have time to go around my ass to get to my elbow. He’s someone’s sub, and I know how to break him. To get this intel.”

What just happened to my life?

The love of my life, my future wife, is about to help mymother, a famous dominatrix apparently, use BDSM pleasure to torture intel out of my half-brother?

This is a Freudian hell.

I’m just glad Nash isn’t here for this. Or Sire. Or Grant. Hell, any of my brothers. I’ll never live this down.

Then again.

Maybe this is the only way to find out if one sold us out.

“Prepare yourself,” Mom warns. “I’ve held him captive for almost three weeks with no relief.”

I arch a brow. “Relief?”

“Don’t make me paint a picture.”

Oh, but Mom just did. She hasn’t let him come in three weeks. I’d almost feel sorry for him if I didn’t pity myself more for knowing it.

“Does he have a name?” Ruby asks.

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