Bella Jewel - Angels In Leather

Asshole.

He stands there for a solid ten minutes, neither of us speaking. When he’s satisfied the bleeding has stopped, he pulls the shirt away and tucks it into his jeans.

“On the bike. We’re goin’ back.”

“I hate you,” I mutter, gripping the bike seat and throwing my leg over it.

“If you gave me what I wanted, we wouldn’t be going through this constant ‘me cat you mouse’ bullshit.”

“I’m not giving you anything until you tell me everything,” I say defiantly.

“Ain’t nothin’ to tell.”

“That’s a lie, Axel, and you know it.”

He glares at me, but takes a helmet and shoves it toward me. I’m thankful, in that moment, that it’s an open-face helmet and not a closed-face one, or I’d be in a world of pain right now. I shiver as a gust of wind whips past me, causing my damp clothes to feel cool against my skin. Axel climbs on the bike in front of me, and then turns back, uncuffing my wrists and pulling them around his waist. Then he cuffs them again. He’s not stupid. Then, without warning, he pulls out onto the road.

I close my eyes, unable to stop myself, and breath in the fresh, crisp air. Being on a bike is like being free. There are no words to describe the intense feeling of joy that swells in your chest as you soar through the wind, nothing surrounding you, nothing holding you down. It’s just you and the bike. Or, in my case, you, the bike, and the biker. I concentrate on the moment of freedom, instead of focusing on the way my lips are trembling from the cold, or the fact that I’m cuffed to a man that despises me.

Worse I’m trying to ignore the feeling of his warm, hard skin against my hands.

By the time we get back to Axel’s compound, my nose is pounding, and my head feels heavy. Axel helps me off the bike, and leads me directly to his room where he spins me around and uncuffs me before taking the hem of my shirt, beginning to raise it. I screech loudly, and he snaps his hand back.

“What the fuck?” he growls.

“Don’t touch me!”

He narrows his eyes. “You want to stay here, in wet fuckin’ clothes?”

“No, but I don’t want you touching me.”

“Fine, I’ll go and get Cobra to do it. He did enjoy it last time.”

My mouth drops open, and I clench my fists. He knows he’s giving me a choice, and he knows I can’t refuse him. I’m cold, I’m wet, I don’t want to be in these clothes all night, and I certainly don’t want Cobra taking my clothes off again. God only knows what he did last time. Lowering my eyes, and clenching my jaw, I lift my arms.

Axel rolls his eyes angrily, as if my hesitation was stupid, and then he takes my shirt, lifting it over my head. I keep my eyes downturned as he moves his large body down mine, and grips my pants, lowering them too. I don’t want to look at him, or recognize that my body is having some sort of reaction to him being so close. My feelings for Axel confuse me, and I don’t know that I’ll ever begin to understand them.

When I’m in my underwear, he stands and tosses me a shirt. I pull it on, and it goes all the way down to my knees. It’s one of his. My heart stammers, and again, it makes no sense to me. He’s a monster to me, and yet my body is reacting every time he’s this near. I stand still as he chains me back up on the floor, and then he turns and I hear him ruffling around. A hand is shoved in front of my face a minute later, and I see he’s got some painkillers and a power bar. Shock fills my body as I reach out, and shakily take them.

Then he leaves the room without a word.

Just for something different.

* * *

The next few days are spent going over the same bullshit. He asks for the USB, I deny him, we get into an argument, and he storms out. By day four, I’m tired of the same crap. I’ve contemplated just giving it to him and leaving this place, but I’m not entirely convinced Axel will let me go once he gets what he wants. He’s a whole other person now. Someone I don’t know.

And yet he’s drawing me to him like a magnet. I want to know what went down. I want the story. I want answers. I need my closure. I don’t know what happened to Axel, or why he needs this USB, but I want to. I should hate him for killing my father, and part of me does, but part of me knows there’s so much more to it than I could ever imagine.

And until I can understand that, I don’t want to leave.

So I keep playing this silly little game. On the night of day four, I’m curled up in my little spot in the corner, ignoring the ache in my thighs and legs from sitting too long. Axel gets me up, and moves me around, but I spend most of my time here, chained up, as if I am a wild animal. He’s trying to break me. I’m not stupid. My wrists are chaffed from the cuffs, and my body is weak with dehydration. I feel exhausted, and yet sleep most nights is non-existent. Instead I listen to Axel sleep, and dream.

He dreams a lot.

I hear the door creak open, and I move my eyes up to see Axel walking in with those lazy, heavy eyes. I slowly lie down and close my eyes, once again too tired to deal with his shit. I hear him shuffle across the room, and then I hear him stop in front of me. I peek through my lashes to see him kneel, and stare down. His eyes hold something I’ve not seen before. It’s compassion. A certain level of gentle I didn’t think he had left.

God, what is he doing?

He leans down, stroking a finger across the hair covering my face. I try not to shiver. Why is he touching me like that? I swallow, and try to keep as still as possible. Axel leans over me and I hear him rattling the chains. He unbuckles them, and hooks his arms under me, lifting me off the ground. I barely have the strength to open my eyes, but I do, staring up at him. His are heavy and sleepy as he looks down at me.

“What’re you doing?”

He doesn’t answer me. He just walks me over to his bed and pulls back the covers, putting me in. He grips my wrists, unchaining them. My chest swells with hope until he takes my hand, and pulls a set of cuffs out of his beside table. He raises my hand above my head, and cuffs it to the bed. He leaves the other free. Then he moves down to my feet, and he untangles them from the chains.

I watch with complete confusion as he walks around to the other side of the bed, and removes his shirt. I feel my lips part, and suddenly they feel dry. His body is amazing. He has a tattoo across the top of his back, and one down the side of his ribs. Otherwise, his skin is clean and perfect. He lowers his pants until he’s wearing only his boxers, and he climbs into the bed beside me.

Why is he doing this?

“Axel?” I whisper.

“Hush,” he orders, and moves closer to me, so our bodies are just touching.

I’m pretty sure he’s lost his mind.

I wait, sure he’s going to realize what he’s done and throw me out, but instead, his breathing becomes deep, and I realize he’s drifting off to sleep. The moonlight from the window behind his bed shines in, illuminating him, and he looks so breathtaking it makes my heart ache for him. He’s beautiful in the kind of way most people aren’t. His beauty is dark and broken.

I feel my eyes growing heavy, and I fight to stay awake, scared to fall asleep next to a man who I know hates me. I can’t fight it, though. After days of being on the hard floor, the soft mattress is heaven. It’s those little things you take for granted, and sooner than I know, my eyes are closed, and my own breathing is becoming shallow. I yawn, and find myself sinking into the pillows. Maybe I’ll give in...just for one night.

* * *

“Fucking stop!”

I hear the pained bellow beside me, and I jerk awake. What the hell? I feel Axel’s body thrash beside me, and I turn my head to see him convulsing in the bed. His jaw is tight, and his body is covered in sweat. His back is arching, and...oh...oh my God. He’s got his fingers wrapped around his cock, and he’s stroking, hard and fast.

“Don’t,” he growls. “Don’t cry, I’m fuckin’ sorry...”

His hand works faster, and my eyes widen. I can’t move my eyes from the thick length in his hand. He has four piercings going around the base of his head, and his shaft is thick, long, and straining. I bite my lip, but his cries have my eyes moving back up to his face. Something is destroying him. A dream. Something dark inside his soul.

“Don’t make her,” he roars. “Don’t...oh God...”

“Axel?” I whisper softly, knowing that you’re really not supposed to wake people during a nightmare.

I reach over with my free hand, and I place it on his chest. His skin is smooth and bronze, and it’s covered in a fine layer of sweat. His hair is stuck to his forehead, and I can hear his teeth grinding, he’s got his jaw so tense. His hand works faster, and the muscles in his arms strain and pull. I run my hand over his chest, feeling the tension there.

“Axel,” I whisper again.

He groans when my fingers glide over his skin again. His hand is jerking so hard that his body is bowing.

“Axel,” I say, a little louder.

“Fight me, goddammit, fight,” he moans throatily.

Fight? What is he dreaming about that would involve fighting and...sex? I hate to think of the reasons why he might be so traumatized, and I know, whatever it is, it’s not simple. I can see it in his eyes when he looks at me. He’s empty. I move my hand down his belly further, and he groans deeper. “Yes, oh, God, yes.”

I clench my legs together, and guilt swells in my chest. He’s having a nightmare, I should be waking him up, not touching him...but it seems to soothe him. His body isn’t rigid anymore, and his hand has slowed down. I move my hand in a small circle over his belly, feeling the hard bulges of muscles beneath my palm. His body relaxes even further.

“Please,” he rasps.

Is he awake? I peer over, and see his eyes are still closed. I slide my hand further down, biting my lip as I feel his hand graze mine. I also catch a feel of the silky head of his cock sliding past my hand as he slowly jerks it. Guilt swells in me again, and I shake my head, pulling my hand back. What the hell am I doing? What sort of sick am I?

Axel’s hand lashes out suddenly, and he takes my wrist, pulling my hand back. I flinch, and struggle against him.

“Yes,” he rasps. “Fight me.”

Is he still asleep? I don’t know. I can’t tell. I pull my hand again, and he groans. He likes me fighting him. I feel a bolt of pleasure shoot right into my pussy at the thought of that. I don’t understand it, and I’m not even sure I want to. I can’t face that I might be as crazy fucked up as this man is. He tugs my hand toward his cock, and I squirm beside him.

“God, yes,” he says with a ragged breath.

He puts my hand against his cock, and I feel the pulsing length against my fingers. It’s rock-hard and warm from his own hand working it. He twists my wrist, and places my hand around his cock. I curl my fingers around the length, and I squeeze. He hisses, and his back arches. Oh God. I shouldn’t be doing this. What if he’s still asleep? That would make me twisted...

Wouldn’t it?

He wraps his hand around mine, and he begins stroking, up and down, using both our hands. The pulsing between my legs is verging on being painful, and I so desperately want to release the pressure. Axel begins moving our hands fast, and his back starts arching again. I smother a moan as his cock tightens in my hand.

“Fuck, oh God, fuck,” he roars as the first spurt of his release hits his belly. I watch the white strands settle there, and more pleasure shoots to my groin. I squeeze and then release, and a warm trickle slides down my hand.

God, this is so wrong. So wrong.

When I feel Axel’s cock beginning to soften, I try to move my hand but his grip tightens. Oh God...he’s awake?

“Axel?” I whisper.

He doesn’t answer me, and it’s then I notice his breathing is deeper again. Oh. My. God. He’s asleep. He’s...not...awake. I try to gently pull my hand away, but he won’t let it go. He moves our hands off his cock and up onto his chest, and there he holds my hand, refusing to release me. I realize it’s comforting him somehow.

So I close my eyes, and I let him keep it.

I shift, and groan. That’s when I feel the warm flesh in my hand. I open my eyes, and turn my head to see Meadow cuffed to my bed. I’ve got her hand firmly in mine, and it’s pressed to my chest. What. The. Fuck? I slowly uncurl my fingers, and she groans, turning her head and letting her lips part with sleep. She’s so fuckin’ perfect.