Page 69 of Double Standards
“I don’t want to talk about him,” she croaks. I don’t ask for more than that. Her business is just that. All I want isher.To know she’s mine and only mine.
“Tell me to stop,” I demand, my breath ragged as I slide my other hand down to cup her ass, pulling her flush against me.
She shakes her head, biting her lip. Her eyes lock onto mine, raw and unguarded, as her fingers thread into the back of my shirt, holding me like she’s afraid to let go.
I trace my thumb along her chin, freeing her mouth gently. “I’m not a second choice, Cassie,” I say with quiet conviction, “and I don’t share.”
She starts to say my name—then I walk her backwards, trapping her between me and the wall. Her curves mold perfectly to my body, and the air is stolen from her lungs as I cage her in.
Her arms snake around my shoulders, pulling me in. “You are not a second choice,” she whispers back, her eyes fierce. “I just didn’t realize what I wanted until…”
I lift my gaze to hers, raw hunger blazing with the truth deep in her eyes. I wind my hand through her soaking hair, tilting her head back and teasing her neck with slow, torturous strokes of my tongue. “Until what?”
Her heart races beneath my touch. Whatever complicated thoughts swirl in her head, they don’t matter right now. All I want is to feel her.
“Until now.”
I press my body against hers, chest to chest, claiming the space between us like it belongs to me. My eyes lock on her face, not searching—demanding. Daring her to flinch. My breath comes hard and shallow, mixing with hers, laced with the scent of her skin and need. It’s intoxicating. Dangerous.
We’ve played this game before—this push and pull, this tension that crackles between us like a live wire. But tonight, it’s not a game. Tonight, I’m done circling. She’s mine, and we both know it. Everything else can burn.
All I need is for her to give in. One second of surrender—and I’ll take everything.
My lips hover over hers, barely brushing, and an impatient moan slips from her. I ask again, hoarse and hopeful, “Are you sure you want this?”
Her nod is barely perceptible, almost a whisper in the storm around us, yet it carries more weight than any shout ever could. It’s surrender and yearning folded into one fragile motion, speaking volumes in the silence between us. I lift my hand slowly, cupping her cheek, my thumb tracing slow, deliberate circles over her cold skin, desperate to feel her response—her consent, her hunger—etched there.
“I need your words,” I murmur, voice low and rough, thick with need and command, refusing to let this moment slip away without her saying it.
Her breath hitches, trembling but steady, as she exhales just for me, “Please, Axel.”
The way she says it—soft, vulnerable, yet bold—sets fire to something deep inside me. A slow, dark smirk curls at the corners of my mouth, satisfied and hungry all at once. “Good girl,” I whisper against her skin, my voice a promise and a challenge, sealing the fragile connection between us.
Time freezes the moment her lips press against mine, urgent and hungry, stealing the breath from my lungs with a single, fierce kiss. Her gasp, caught beneath my mouth, sparks a wildfire of heat that pulses through me, igniting every nerve ending.
It’s only been days since I last tasted her, but this kiss—this raw, desperate connection—is nothing like I imagined. Maybe it’s the haze of want, the edge of need sharpened by time apart, but it’s more intense, deeper than anything I expected from just a touch of her lips.
Though my kiss demands, there’s a tenderness beneath it, a softness as I trail from her mouth down to the sensitive skin of her neck. My hands don’t hesitate, roaming feverishly over her,grabbing and squeezing, desperate to memorize the feel of her. I cup her neck, her cheek, her back, while her hands explore every hard plane and curve of my chest—solid muscle beneath her fingertips.
My hands slip lower, sliding under her shirt to cup her ass, pulling her closer until I lift her effortlessly. The heat of my palms burns through the fabric, chasing away the chill threatening her skin.
Her legs wrap tight around my waist, anchoring her to me, as my lips continue their assault—licking, kissing, biting at her neck. A low moan slips from her throat, fueling the fire between us. I take full advantage, parting my lips to swallow her sounds of pleasure, teasing her tongue with mine—twisting, tangling, a slick, soft clash that sends her spinning into a dizzy rush of burning need.
Her hands thread into my hair, tugging me closer, deepening the kiss. The heat between us grows unbearable, a tension that begs to be released. I carry her toward the bedroom without breaking contact, every movement fueled by raw need and quiet promises.
When we reach the door, I slam her against the frame, my hands gripping her curves with fierce possession—marking, claiming. She’s mine—no question, no escape—and I’ll make sure she feels that in every bruising touch, every whispered command. Tonight, she belongs to me completely. Nothing else will exist but the fire I’ll burn into her skin and soul.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Axel moves with ruthless precision through his dark house, my legs locked tight around his waist. He never once drops me or falters.
My fingers weave through his thick hair, guiding his mouth down to my neck so I can savor the softness of his lips against my skin. A playful nip on my earlobe sends a shiver cascading down my spine, pooling deep in my stomach. Butterflies don't even come close to how he makes me feel.
My back presses into a plush, familiar surface, and when I open my eyes, I realize we’re in Axel’s bedroom.
A trail of scorching kisses burns a path down my skin, the heat searing where his lips reach my collarbone. His mouth pauses at the soaked fabric of my shirt, and his fingers begin tracing slow, deliberate patterns over the peaks of my breasts. They settle on my nipples, circling them again and again with the tip of a finger. I gasp, trembling at how even the lightest touch from him leaves me breathless, begging for more.
The tension snaps tighter when Axel pulls away slightly, settling above me with his hands braced on either side of my head. He inhales sharply, then exhales so softly it tickles my face—full of promise and something darker, something hungry.
