Page 67 of Snowed In with Four Firemen
He smiles faintly, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from my face. “If it’s for you? Yeah. Even then.”
Something snaps between us, the air turning electric, hot. I don’t know who moves first—maybe it’s him, maybe it’s me—but suddenly, our mouths crash together, hard and desperate. His hands tangle in my hair, mine clutching at his shoulders, and the rest of the world falls away.
There’s no time for gentleness. No time for hesitation.
He kisses me like he’s starving, like I’m the only thing keeping him alive, and I respond with equal hunger, every thought of stopping melting away in the heat of his touch. His lips move over mine, hard and demanding, and I moan, myfingers digging into his jacket as he backs me up against the wall of the maintenance shed.
“Axel,” I gasp, the sound swallowed up by his mouth as he groans, his tongue sweeping against mine in a way that makes my knees go weak. He grabs me around the waist, lifting me, carrying me inside the shed without breaking the kiss. Good thing I put this coat on.
It’s dark, the space small and cluttered, but none of that matters. Not with the way he’s kissing me, like I’m oxygen deprived.
He kicks the door shut behind us, and I feel the shift as he turns us, my back hitting something hard—a table, maybe? I don’t care. All I care about are his hands, sliding down my body, grabbing my hips, my ass, yanking me closer until there’s no space left between us.
“God, Emily,” he groans, his lips breaking away from mine to trail down my neck, his teeth scraping my skin in a way that sends a shiver straight down my spine. “You have no idea how crazy you make me.”
“Show me,” I breathe, my voice breaking, my own hands scrambling at his clothes, desperate for more. “Show me how crazy.”
He growls low in his throat, his hands dropping to my thighs, lifting me onto the edge of the table. I gasp as he pushes between my legs, the rough fabric of his jeans rubbing against the sensitive spot between my thighs. My head falls back, my body arching into him as he grinds against me, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through me.
It’s wild and unhinged, and it’s not enough.
“Axel, please,” I moan, clutching at his shoulders, needing more, needing him. “Please?—”
“Shhh,” he murmurs, his breath hot against my ear as his fingers fumble at the waistband of my pants. “I’ve got you.”
He yanks them down just enough to give him access, his fingers brushing against my aroused clit, and I whimper, my hips bucking instinctively. I feel the roughness of his calloused fingers against me, sliding through my wetness, and then he reaches between us, undoing his own belt and zipper with a single, jerky motion.
He lines himself up, the head of him brushing against me, and I bite my lip, holding my breath.
“Emily,” he rasps, his gaze burning into mine. “You want this?”
“Yes,” I breathe, no hesitation, no doubt. I spread my legs further for him. “God, yes.”
He groans and thrusts forward, burying himself inside me in one swift, powerful move that makes us both cry out. The sensation is overwhelming—hot, thick, urgent. He’s still in his clothes, I’m still half-dressed, but none of that matters. All that matters is how he’s filling me and how he fits so perfectly.
“Fuck,” he mutters, his hands tightening on my hips as he pulls back, then slams into me again, harder this time. “Emily?—”
“Don’t stop,” I gasp, my hands clawing at his shoulders, needing him to keep moving, needing him to take me apart. “Please, don’t stop?—”
He doesn’t. He pounds into me, his hips snapping forward in hard, fast thrusts. The sound of our bodies colliding echoes through the shed. The table creaks with each thrust, the rough edge digging into my hands as he takes me from behind, but I don’t care. I don’t care about anything except the way he feels inside me.
“Emily, you’re—God, you’re perfect,” he growls, his voice raw, strained, his breath coming in harsh pants as he drives into me again and again. His hands are everywhere—gripping my waist, sliding up to cup my breasts through my blouse, squeezing hard enough to make me cry out.
“Axel, oh God—” I choke out, my head falling back as the pleasure crests, my body tightening around him.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, his lips finding mine in a bruising kiss. “Let go, baby. Come for me.”
And I do. I shatter around him, the pleasure crashing over me in a wave so intense it nearly knocks the breath from my lungs. I convulse, my hands digging into his shoulders, his name spilling from my lips in a broken cry.
“Fuck, Emily,” he groans, his thrusts turning rough, erratic as he follows me over the edge, burying himself deep inside me one last time before he stills, his whole body shaking.
For a long moment, we just stay like that, breathing hard, clinging to each other in the dark. My heart is still racing, my body still trembling, and I can feel his pulse pounding against my skin.
Slowly, he pulls back, his hands sliding up to cup my face, his forehead resting against mine. “You okay?” he murmurs, his voice soft, tender.
I nod, still trying to catch my breath. “Yeah,” I whisper, my lips brushing against his. “Yeah, I’m okay.”
He kisses me again, softer this time, and I sigh, melting into him. We’re still a mess—still half-dressed, our clothes tangled, the air around us thick with the scent of sex. But for now, it doesn’t matter.
