Axel's lips were soft, coated in fat from the charcuterie he'd been eating, tasting like wine and cheese; as if I'd taken a bite and was letting it melt in my mouth.

I moaned as his tongue twisted around mine, and arched my spine as he pulled me closer, pressing me against him. My breasts shoved into his torso, and his erection tightened against my middle; we were aroused and ready, and I couldn't wait for things to heat up—and fast.

"We don't have a lot of time," I whispered, disconnecting from our hot, heavy kissing. "If we get caught—"

"—we won't." He put a finger over my lips. "Don't move."

I hadn't planned on moving, but found that even if I'd wanted to, I couldn't. My legs quaked with desire and my sweaty back was glued to the counter against which we'd been making out.

Axel stormed over to the door through which I'd come, and poked his head out, only allowing a slither of the ballroom's light in. In his definitely non-accented French—damn, that sexy asshole became sexier by the minute—he barked orders at someone to guard the door with their life. Seconds later, he was back in front of me, studying how to best remove my clothes.

"We're in a hurry, you said?" He cocked his head, drinking in my every curve, every exposed inch of my skin. I'd removed my jacket while he commanded his team to watch the door; now I stood before him in only my red dress and high heels, my body weakening in anticipation.

"I don't care that someone is guarding the door—this is dangerous, Axel. My job—" I hiccuped. "I can't lose this."

A part of me regretted giving in to him. It went against all my morals, all my promises to myself not to let him seduce me, all my fears about losing my job for sleeping with the boss. For getting distracted.

But I couldn't help it—this man was irresistible, the pull to him impossible to ignore. The longer, the harder I tried to fight my craving, the more painful it became.

I didn't like pain.

"I know." After a minute of examining me, as if calculating in his head how to undress me in haste, he snapped his fingers. "Okay, I got it." Without warning, he heaved me onto the counter. He slid my dress up my thighs, bunching it near my waist. "Yeah, this is perfect." His hips were of a height with the counter's edge, and if I dangled slightly off the surface, he could thrust into me without much difficulty.

But he had no intention of thrusting, just yet. Wetting his lips, he snuck his hand between my legs and dabbed a finger over my underwear.

"Fuck," he said, coming into contact with the drenched fabric. "You're so ready for me, aren't you?"

I gnawed on my lip and nodded, a slight shyness developing, despite him having been acquainted with my body several times before. "Very. Hurry."

Axel shook his head slowly. "Oh, I'll hurry, but I'm also going to savor this. This is delicious; you sitting here literally soaked for me. Exquisite." He gripped the hem of my panties, pulling down past my legs until they were on the floor. "Scooch closer," he ordered, and I obliged, too turned on to ask questions.

My ass half on the counter, half off, I watched as he lowered, fully spreading my thighs, then approached his hot mouth to my wetness. He teased with his finger first, massaging my clit, causing my legs to shake uncontrollably.

"Do it," I said, my head tipping back, eyes squeezed shut as I felt him slide his tongue into me. "Fuck, Axel."

He lapped at my moisture, twirling his tongue around my arousal, alternating between luscious licks and tantalizing flicks. He hadn't quite gone down on me last night, though he'd teased me in that area; but tonight, he made plans to make me come more than once, and with more than his penis.

He held on to my thighs as he licked and licked, taking his time in reaching my most sensitive spot.

"Axel, please," I moaned, desperate for him to make me come, for him to get inside me. We were limited on time, and there he was toying around with me, enjoying my wriggling about, delighting in my obvious need to scream out when in fact I had to remain quiet. The kitchen was soundproof, sure, but that didn't mean we were safe from being overheard.

"Mmm," he said, continuing to revel in the flavor of me, every stroke of his tongue turning me delirious. "You taste like fucking heaven."

He was bringing me to fucking heaven with every swish of his tongue, every collision of it on my inner lips. "Please," I begged, inadvertently checking the door behind us, and the other one to the side, terrified of being discovered, yet too deep in my bliss to do anything about it. "I need you...need you to...ahhh."

"Hey," Axel poked up from between my legs, "relax, Vivienne. Let me take care of you, okay?"

I swept a few matted hairs from my face, taking advantage of the pause to breathe in and out, to steady my racing heart. "But we don't have time for it. The guests," I gulped, my vagina pulsating for more pleasure, "they'll start mingling, they'll ask questions, they'll look for us—"

Axel shot up straight and glued his mouth to mine, gently sliding his tongue inside. I got a whiff of myself, of what I tasted like, and shivers skidded down my arms and legs at the deliciousness. "Trust me," he said, detaching from my lips. "No one will find us, and no one will question us, either."

"But—" I squinted at him, calmly pushing him backwards. A sudden realization roamed through me, and with the little time we were allotted, I needed to acknowledge it. "Something is off, here. Am I not supposed to be comforting you?"

Axel smirked, using his tongue to wash my aroma off his lips. "This is comforting me."

"No, wait." I hopped off the counter and grasped his waist, searching for his belt. "I need to comfort you. Truly." Once I located the buckle, I opened it, then worked on his pants buttons and zipper. "Let me take care of you."

Axel raised his hands in surrender, doing nothing to stop me as I lowered his pants, reaching into his boxers. I found it—the throbbing, perfect cock I'd been fantasizing over since last night. Up close and personal, and yearning for me.

I tugged his boxers down. Once he was fully exposed, I slid the tip of his erection into my mouth, carefully sucking, gyrating my tongue around the soft, warm skin. No time to fool around teasing him—I'd give him comfort now, quickly. His body tensed in response, his penis plunging deeper as he groaned, grabbing the back of my head to guide me. He didn't push or direct my movements, only held on, his fingers massaging my scalp as I took him in and out, in and out, savoring every inch of him.

I pulled his cock out to lick its length, to play with the tip while angling my head back to look up at him. The eye-contact sent him soaring over the edge, and he released a moan so seriously sexy that I almost started touching myself as I watched him enjoy my work.

"Jeez, Vivienne," he said, cupping my cheeks to leisurely pull me up to his level. He kissed me once, twice, then hefted me back onto the counter. "Don't have me coming before I want to."

I grinned at him as he extracted a condom from his pocket. "Oh, yeah? Were you expecting this to happen, Mr. Levine?"

"Fuck," he breathed, rolling the condom onto his length, "it's so goddamn hot when you call me that. And yes," he stood sideways, showing me how ready he was for me, "I'm always prepared. And with you in my vicinity...I was hopeful. Burning for you. Waiting for you to comfort me."

He nestled between my thighs but didn't enter me yet. His tip nestled near my entrance, toying with me. He tugged down my dress straps, and then lowered my bra to access my breasts. He kneaded one nipple, then brought his mouth to it, running his tongue over the erect, delicate surface. I bit my tongue to hold in a moan, and he flicked a few times, switched nipples, then straightened up, seizing my thighs to drag me as close to him as possible.

He stuffed his hard penis into me, immediately moaning at my moisture, my welcoming response. My eyes locked onto his, pleading with him to go, go, go, to fuck me rough and fast so we could go back to being the planner and the rich CEO paying to organize his sister's wedding.

He rammed into me in quick but heavy bursts, filling me completely, propelling me into a world of ecstasy and otherworldly rapture. I chewed on the insides of my cheeks not to yelp, to not beg him for more. His face contorted with the agony of keeping quiet, of not releasing his true thoughts out into the open.

Fast, fast, faster. He didn't slow the pace, barely giving me time to process what was happening before it happened—the peak, the end, the explosion of satisfaction, the final fireworks. He tightened his grip on my thighs and slammed his eyes shut as he finished. I sensed myself slipping into a state of intoxicated satiation, our bodies relaxing into one another.

After a few moments to gather himself, catch his breath, he helped me down from the counter. And once he'd discarded the condom and zipped his pants up, he assisted me with putting my underwear back on, repositioning my bra, my dress, and my jacket.

"Shit! My face," I said, frantically looking about the area for something to use as a mirror.

Axel held my chin and peered at me up close. He patted underneath my lash-line, then fixed a few hairs behind my ears. "No, nothing to worry about. You look perfect. Gorgeous."

We stood that way, lost in each other's eyes, internally begging for another round, for more time to unwind, to drink in the rising pleasure we'd experienced together. Having sex on a kitchen counter in a public place didn't allow for after-sex cuddling; and after what we'd been through that night, we both needed it.

But it wasn't an option. What we'd done, the ecstasy we'd experienced—it wouldn't, couldn't happen again. That fantasy of having a fling with a filthy rich and incredibly hot CEO wasn't in the cards for me.

Reading my mind, Axel's face dropped as he backed away and gestured at the side-door. "You go out that way. It leads into the restaurant," he flinched, "so walk out, pass the bar, and re-enter through the main doors. No one will be able to guess we were together."

I winced. "What about the people who saw me come in here?"

Axel narrowed his gaze, setting it on the door his staff had gone through. "Don't worry about them. Please, just...go."

His sudden switch from incredibly aroused to borderline offended tormented me. Did he need an actual hug now? Should I have apologized for coming to comfort him, for giving in to him? Was he the type to prefer solitude after a hair-raising, heart-racing round of sex?

Or...was he reverting to his position of power, of management, pretending like he didn't know me, didn't care for me, to not arouse suspicion? That was the plan—he'd told me he'd done this on purpose.

Yet for some reason, it still stung me.

"Are you okay?" I wanted to touch his cheek, press a hand to his chest and feel his heart, make sure he really was all right. Something about the shift in his demeanor, the instant dejection at our sexual interaction ending, seemed to affect him more than he wished to show.

"You have a job to do, and I have checks to sign," he said, twisting away from me as he re-buttoned his shirt and fetched his jacket from the counter where he'd left it. "Back to being who we are, right? Boss and employee. Rich man and pretty wedding planner. Uninvolved and committed to their jobs."

I swallowed, my throat lined with daggers. Was he upset, or being a smartass? He didn't care about my position, nor his; no, he just wanted to fuck me, to have me accessible to him, to use me for his comfort. My career didn't matter, only his satisfaction did.

Right?

No, that's not Axel Levine. It can't be.

Torn between hating him and pitying him, I clamped my mouth shut and exited the kitchen without another word, without another glance. I feared if I turned around, if our gazes met again, I'd melt.

As I walked through the semi-deserted restaurant, I felt like she was still mid-orgasm. Not unsatisfied, but as if I had more to give, more to receive, more to indulge in with Axel. The friction of my wet underwear against my still pulsating vagina was almost too much to bear.

But I bore it. Because this—whatever had occurred with Axel—was over. That was the last time; I'd said it, he'd implied it, and our getting naked and fucking each other senseless couldn't happen again.

After a quick stop at the ladies' room, I snuck into the ballroom to witness everyone lining up for finger foods, pouring themselves glasses of expensive wine, conversing in loud tones, dancing near the DJ booth. If anyone had noticed Axel and I's disappearance, they didn't care, too busy having a great time.

This is good. Right?

I sidled up to Chi, looking chic and poised in their loose-fitting purple suit, perched in a corner counting the remaining trays of cheese and charcuterie. When they took note of me, they abandoned their count and took me by the shoulders. "You okay? You're a bit...flushed."

I brushed them off and pointed at the buffet tables. "Enough food for everyone?"

Chi nodded, then sniffed at me before erupting into a sheepish smirk. "Oh, yeah, you were alone with him all right." They approached my ear, lowering their volume. "You reek of sex."

Before I could scold them, I sighted a door opening across the room—the door to the kitchen. The area where I'd abandoned Axel to gather himself, where I wished I'd stayed longer, to comfort him more.

Sex was comfort to him, he'd said, and yet I couldn't help but think it hadn't been enough. Not when dealing with trauma from dead parents and overindulgent siblings who'd brought it up to a room packed with people.

But as he pranced out of the kitchen, his suit jacket back on, his face composed, his shoulders squared, he was an entirely different person. He wasn't the vulnerable but lustful man who'd taken me on the counter; he was Axel Levine, CEO of Levine Luxury Group, principal donor for this event. He held himself upright, proud, as if he hadn't been hiding in a kitchen to fuck a woman to soothe his anxiety, but was instead smoking a cigar and slurping from a glass of fine whiskey, a wealthy CEO in his element.

No emotion, no hint of the dismay he'd displayed to me. No trace of the hunger he'd had for me. Putting on a show, as he'd said—but putting it on so well, I wondered if he'd enjoyed any of our naked moments together.

Not that he was supposed to. If he didn't enjoy himself, well, that made things all the easier for me to interrupt, right? If he wasn't interested in me beyond the sex, and if he didn't want to have sex with me again, wouldn't that solve all my problems?

No, it wouldn't—because I wanted to have sex with him again. No matter his cool demeanor, no matter his off-putting mood-swings, whether or not they were acted.

I wanted Axel Levine, and it was a problem.

☼☼☼