Axel slammed me against the door, his tongue torpedoing around mine with a speed I struggled to match, let alone maintain.

We'd managed to sneak out of the restaurant as things were dying down. Everyone was trashed, the alcohol supplies had dwindled, Chi had disappeared, plates were wiped clean.

But halfway up the stairs to the second floor, Axel groped my ass, sending me into overdrive. I spun to him, grabbed his face, and kissed him hard and wet on the mouth.

Since that moment, we'd been fighting to make it to his room before anyone else came upstairs, before anyone noticed we'd taken off at the same time.

"Risky," I kept whispering between kisses, between heated touches that sent me through the roof. We hadn't even gotten to the private parts yet; all we'd done was grab at butts and twirl our tongues in dizzying motions.

Now, in Axel's room, all bets were off. I'd known it the second I sensed his fiery body pressing against mine, his need for me throbbing between my legs as he pushed it into me.

"Fuck," he said, swaying backwards to remove his suit jacket.

I removed my shoes, unfastened my dress, ignored his blaring look. He'd mumbled something about ripping the whole outfit off me, but it was expensive, and I hadn't planned to toss it in the trash at the end of this trip.

Once in my undergarments, my center dripping with desire, I helped him unbuckle his belt, draw his pants down. He stepped out of them, then gripped me by the ass, hauling me towards the bedroom—but as usual, we didn't make it. Axel stumbled, and I hopped out of his embrace before being crushed beneath him on the floor. He fell, but with a strange grace that made me snort.

Laughing—we were both drunk—I crumbled beside him, trailing my fingertips along his back. "Take this off," I ordered, pinching the fabric of his shirt between my fingers.

He rolled onto his back and sat up, tearing the shirt off, buttons flying all over the place. A voice in my head reminded me that he didn't need to worry about replacing clothes, wealthy as he was. He probably had fifteen shirts just like this one in his closet here, at the hotel. And about twenty more at his home in New York City.

But I shoved that voice somewhere far, far beyond reach, so I could enjoy what was about to happen.

And what happened was a nearly violent session of sex in every corner of his room. First against the balcony window, with the beach waves roaring below, lightning flashing in the distance, wind howling against the glass. Axel propped my leg up and lowered to his knees, to flick his tongue over and into my core. He didn't linger there, his erection pulsating, becoming so thick and needy that he had to have me immediately.

After rolling on the first condom of many that night, Axel dipped into me, thrusting me against the window, kissing me deep, his lips hot, his gaze smoldering. Every stab into me jolted strings of shivers down my spine, and I cried out for him to keep going, keep fucking me.

Had we been sober, that would have been the only time that night. But charged with pent-up adrenaline, neither of us was satiated with that one occurrence.

Instead of carrying me to the bedroom and depositing me in bed for a good night's sleep, Axel brought me to the bathroom, hefting my ass onto the cold counter. I gasped at the contact, my feet dangling and numb; but on instinct, I arched my spine and spread my legs.

He didn't kneel to lick me, this time, much too eager to possess me completely. Finding the second condom in a drawer—jeez, did he stash them in every room?—he put it on, then gently entered me while gazing almost lovingly into my eyes. As he pushed into me, pulled out, pushed in again, the power flickered out, leaving us in utter darkness. With his heavy breaths on my skin, the scent of his pine-fresh deodorant mixing with his spicy cologne and my flowery body butter, I was delirious with longing for this man. Swarmed with pleasure the more he penetrated me, the more his mouth traced lines from one side of my jaw to the other.

Round three happened on the floor near the front door, with a background chorus of screams and intoxicated guests running around in the corridor. I was on top of Axel, riding him, controlling the motion with difficulty. I was tipsy, but also so mystified by the way he felt inside me that I wanted to finish, wanted to climax, wanted him to explode.

The lights switched on for a few minutes, basking us in a glowing halo as I accelerated my pace, garnering a loud grunt of bliss from Axel as he tipped his head back, arching further into me. The depth of his member in me made me scream—and thankfully, with all the commotion outside the room, no one would know I'd let loose.

Barely a few breaths after climaxing, Axel took me by the hand and led me to one of the chaises near the window. We lay side by side, breathless, spent, yet still with reserves of energy stocked inside. He caressed my face, admiring me in the light, before the power shut off again, and all he had to guide his tender touches was the faint moonlight from outside and the lightning blasting across the sky.

He plunged his tongue into my mouth, his tart taste jolting through me, making me yearn for more. He swirled slowly at first, languorously luring me into a dangerous tango. Our mouths opened, our bodies smashed together as the kissing became aggressive, insistent, urgent.

He soon broke free of my mouth, and flipped me around on all fours, kneading my ass as he licked his lips.

"I'm going to fuck you from behind, doggy-style," he said, voice raspy, body rapt with attention, demanding me.

In response, I curved my spine, poking out my ass, more than willing. I remembered the shocks of pleasure this position created for me. So I waited, oozing anticipation, desperate for another go of Axel's cock throbbing inside me.

To my astonishment, though, he lay on his back and slithered underneath me, pulling me a bit lower so he could access my inner lips. He pressed tiny kisses to my labia, the tip of his tongue softly passing over my damp skin.

He continued to surprise me at every turn. It was our fourth time having sex that night—and I'd lost count of how many times total since we'd met—and still, I was never done with him, never fully satisfied. He pleasured me better than anyone ever had, but I never got enough of him. Even if we used the same position in the same spot for the next three weeks, I knew I'd come, and I'd fall asleep happy and fulfilled.

Nothing had gone according to plan—mine, his, or my bosses'—and yet, I started to adhere to a fuck it all attitude. What could I do, in the end? Wait for the storm to pass, literally. And if Axel kept his word, if he had that much money to throw at my firm if they tried to sack me, maybe he'd take pity on me. Find me another job, hell, hire me at his company, send me to one of his hotels across the world and far from Los Angeles. As much as I loved the place, the past five years had been torture to me, and I—

"Ahhhhhh," I wailed, as Axel hit a spot near my clit that I didn't even know existed. "Holy fuck." My legs quivered, my body collapsing against the cushions as he moaned into me, furthering his tongue motions in that same spot. He sped up, slowed down, making me grab at the arm-rests and grit my teeth and scream, scream, scream his name.

Finally, when I could no longer feel my lower limbs, he pulled out from under me, fastened the fourth condom of the night over his thick, hard member, and eased into my wetness, prompting a chilled cry from me . Gods, he felt so good from this angle, deep inside me, the head of his dick touching the most sensitive spots within my sex. His every thrust echoed the claps of thunder outside, our fucking in rhythm with the storm.

He jammed into me, jerking in and out, his hands clinging to my waist as if letting go meant death. My fingertips dug into the chaise, my consciousness faltering like the power was, my vagina so numb with desire I had no clue where I was, what I was—and didn't care. I'd ride this plane to ecstasy until I passed out from exhaustion.

***

I squinted into the light, my eyes blinking open. A bright light, so intense that I brought my hand up to shade myself, to try to adjust. Had I died and woken in heaven? Or were these burning fires of hell, Karma for all the naughty events of the night?

As my eyesight shifted, fixed itself, I found him—the naked god standing before the bedroom window, one hand on his waist, the other clutching what I believed was his phone. He stood silent, peering outside, the light blasting over him like a spotlight, displaying his ravishing perfection for me to admire.

It took my brain a moment to compute what this meant—the light was sunlight. No more booms of thunder, no chaotic raindrops propelling into the glass windows. The night had passed, bringing with it a reprieve—temporary or permanent, I wouldn't know until I got up and looked outside myself.

I stretched, and Axel spun around, smiling at me. "Good morning, sex goddess."

I scoffed. "Me? I'm no goddess. You were the one with superhero powers as you carried me around the room to fuck me in every corner." I pointed at the window. "All clear? Storm is gone?"

He raised his phone, tapping on the screen. "For the most part. Some heavy damage in places, including here. Moderate flooding—clean-up crews will be here in a few hours. Power outages should be over with, though. Officers told me there's about an inch, which is, considering other places along the coast, not detrimental. Shouldn't take too long for them to get us back in shape, but...none of the downstairs is usable today. Leaving isn't recommended, and guests who are staying in town...it'll be hard, if not impossible, for them to get here."

I sat up straight, throwing the covers off. "Shit."

"It's not as bad as it could have been, for sure. Nothing the clean-up crews and my company can't fix, but it will take a few days. And knowing Violet..." He brushed a hand through his messy curls, the sun turning them to copper and gold. "She won't want to postpone. We'll have to proceed as planned, in the upstairs ballroom. But we likely won't have all the guests, or the vendors, or the supplies—"

I lunged out of the bed, racing to the bedroom door. "My phone. I need my phone."

Axel dashed over to stop me before I got my hand onto the doorknob. "Hey, hang on a minute, you naked delicacy." He grabbed my wrist and pulled me against him, skin to skin, his warmth to my coolness. "You need clothes first, and a bite to eat."

"No, I need my phone," I blurted, attempting to fight my way out of his arms. "I need to organize, call vendors to see if they have any way of getting here, of sending things over, of—"

"—they can't." Axel gulped, his fingers pushing a few stray hairs off my forehead. His touch nearly shattered me. "The road to get here is flooded, and knowing those places...they have typical tiny French cars, Vivienne. I mean, we might be able to sneak some stuff in with the clean-up crews, because they'll show up with big trucks equipped for this kind of shit, but—"

"—but your sister will not have her dream wedding. Which means I will not have the win I needed to keep my job, and you and I—"

"—Vivienne," he said, pronouncing my name the French way, instantly startling me into silence. "We discussed this. The upstairs ballroom, with whatever supplies we have here. There's the stuff we used for the rehearsal dinner, and I know we can gather cloth and sheets and chairs from the rooms on the second and third floors. I probably have a stash of items in my room, and the suites all have things that can be used as decoration. There's a sound system in the ballroom, we have a stocked kitchen with a restaurant where, thank the fucking Lord, the cake was put, because for some reason you and the baker decided it was best to keep it at a higher elevation."

I shook at the memory. The baker in question had thrown a fit when the staff removed the enormous, stacked cake from his van and tried to put it in the downstairs kitchen.

"I totally spaced that." I massaged my temples. "But we don't have a DJ. We won't have the full guest list. The photographer and videographer won't make it, and—" I gasped, "—the officiant, goddammit, he was staying in town, he won't get here! There's no one to officiate the ceremony!" I threw my hands up and collapsed onto the bed. "That's it, we're done for. I am done for."

Axel sat beside me and wrapped an arm around me. His musky scent didn't calm me down; no, it turned me on, of course. It reminded me of our night of fucking when I should have been brainstorming solutions, scouring the property for resources, calling the entire town of St. Tropez for someone who might have a big truck to transport everyone and everything here—

"Look, this place has priority clearance for clean-up," said Axel, his voice soft, soothing to my ears. "I pay high taxes for this location, and have helped the town of St. Tropez many times throughout the years, so they owe me. Volunteers will be here soon. We can ask them if they're able to help, but," he rubbed my back, urging me to stand up, "in the meantime, you need to get dressed and come with me to the ballroom so we can start coordinating. I assume Violet is already in full gear getting ready, and we'll have to warn her of everything."

I swallowed, my throat lined with spikes, my lungs constricting. Violet had been mildly forgiving the night before, but today was the event. The ceremony, the actual wedding, the moment she'd been waiting for. How would she react to every detail of it being re-planned, rearranged based on what supplies Axel had at the hotel?

And how badly would she punish me and my reputation for it?

☼☼☼