Chapter 26
Twenty-Six
SOREN
Ava and I are sunk into the steaming water of her massive soaking tub. She’s between my legs, leaning back against my chest, her head on my shoulder. Relaxing. At least, she would be if my cock weren’t making itself very known.
Her elbow shifts, then stills. She tilts her head back to look at me, one brow arched.
“You planning on harpooning me from behind?”
I choke out a laugh. “Not my fault your perfect ass is parked on a very sensitive launchpad.”
“Can’t even take a bath without you turning into a weapon of mass seduction.”
“Correction,” I say against her ear. “Weapon of mass distraction.”
“Facts.”
Ice is still melting in my sock, which is currently slumped on top of the sad little heap of clothes we peeled off like frozen armor.
Correction—her sock.
Pink. Fuzzy. Glitter-trimmed. A war crime against footwear I’m now strangely attached to.
Ava’s fingers trace patterns on my thigh, doodling her name–and words she doesn’t want to say out loud–in the margins of my skin.
We’ve been here a while. Talking. Not talking. Letting the steam thaw whatever’s left of the walls between us.
Her head tilts back again. “So? Was I right?”
“About what?”
“That snowball fights are a time-honored metaphor for intimacy.”
I huff a laugh, reaching for the wineglass perched on the ledge beside me. We popped it open after declaring a truce and deciding day drinking was the only appropriate way to celebrate a well-fought snowball war.
“Well, if you ask me, the metaphor doesn’t come from the fight.”
“No?” she asks, tone curious.
“No.” A wet finger trails down her bare arm. Goosebumps rise in my wake. “It comes from the after.”
Ava goes quiet, waiting.
I press a kiss to her temple before continuing. “Sitting here. Naked. Warm. Talking about books, writing, dreams, fears… you.” My voice lowers. “Us. That’s the intimate part.”
She doesn’t respond right away. But something’s cracked open in her without force.
“God,” she whispers eventually. “You are soooo dangerous like this.”
“Like what?”
“All soft-spoken and insightful. Vulnerable. Wet.”
I smirk into her skin. “You forgot hung.”
A small splash follows. “Get out of my tub.”
“Too late. You invited intimacy. I’m never leaving.”
Ava’s back arches, and the movement makes me feel all of her. Slippery and slick against my chest, thighs pressed tight against mine.
One shift.
That’s all it takes.
The lazy affection between us catches fire, sparking into a darker, heavier thirst that coils low in my belly and dares me to act on every wicked thought currently brewing in my brain. I go from a semi-situation to painfully hard in the space of a breath.
My cock presses into her. She stills, then presses back deliberately. And I lose my mind.
Ava exposes her neck, offering me her skin. “You’re staring,” she says softly.
“Can you blame me?” I set the wineglass back on the ledge without taking my eyes off her. “You’re naked. Drunk on snow victory. Dripping wet. You basically summoned this moment.”
Her lips twitch. “Careful, Pembry. You’re giving me Edward Cullen energy.”
My mouth hovers over the pulse at her throat. “Difference is, Bells, I wouldn’t stop at just staring.”
Ava’s lashes flutter. “Well, when you put it that way…”
One of my hands skims over her stomach to the underside of her breast. “Say the word, Bells.”
“What word?”
“Literally any of them.” My lips skim her jaw. “Pick one. I’ll fuck you sweet. Or rough. Or both.”
Ava’s fingers dig into my thigh. And when she finally speaks, it’s not a word at all—it’s my name, broken and breathy.
I take that as permission.
My hand slides up to cup her breast, thumb teasing over her nipple until she lets out the softest sound—half sigh, half moan, all mine.
“Still want me out of your tub?” I ask, voice thick with heat.
Sitting up fully, Ava turns in the water, straddles me, her slick heat settling right over my cock—teasing, tormenting—her pussy sliding against me with each tiny shift.
It’s killing me. I’m so close to being inside her, I can feel her flutter and pulse.
Her body’s begging me in its own secret language.
Ava stares at me for a delicious few seconds, letting the tension strangle the air between us before she kisses me, answering my question with her entire body.
“Guess that’s a no,” I say against her lips.
We stay like this for a while—kissing, tasting, touching—until she relaxes against me again, her breath hot on my throat, one hand idly trailing over my chest.
I hold her against me, my cock standing at full attention—aching, and ready—but I stay still, waiting on her next move. Letting the weight of wanting fall on her.
Then I spot it.
A small black drawstring bag, barely visible behind a cheap little fake plant on the tub’s edge. Camouflaged between shampoo and conditioner.
Almost pulled it off, too.
Almost.
I wouldn’t have noticed it at all if it weren’t for the hot pink lettering printed across the fabric: Buzz Buddies.
“Well, well, well.” I cock a brow. “What do we have over there?”
Ava stiffens, then immediately glances behind her.
Before she can react, I lunge forward, one arm around her waist to hold her steady while water sloshes around us. Reaching past her, I pluck the bag off the ledge and hold it up between two fingers with a devil’s grin as if I’ve uncovered her deepest secret. Most likely I have.
“Tell me this is what I think it is.” My eyes gleam.
She scrambles with a splash, cheeks flushing, snatching for it. “It’s nothing! That’s—it’s from a bachelorette party. Years ago.”
“Mmhmm,” I say, keeping it out of her reach.
“I forgot it was even back there.”
“You forgot you were harboring contraband?” I tease, loosening the drawstrings.
“Soren.”
I peek inside the bag, fully expecting a cute, modest little vibrator.
What I find?
...Is not that.
High-end. Pink, curved at the tip. It’s specifically designed to beg her body to respond. There’s a defined bulb angled upward for maximum G-spot destruction, and a thick, ridged base that flares out in a way I know isn’t for grip. It’s for grinding.
“This thing’s got architecture.” I hold it up as if I’m examining a futuristic weapon. “This isn’t a vibe, Bells—it’s an archetype for your undoing.”
Ava groans and moves to the other side of the tub. She sinks low into the water, only her eyes and forehead visible above the bubbles now. “Please stop talking.”
“I will not.” Fascinated, I rotate it, searching for instructions. “It has a curling tip. Ten vibrating modes. Is there an earthquake setting? Oh, this clit base is top-tier. This thing has better engineering than my car.”
Her hand smacks over her face.
I can’t help the grin pulling at my mouth. “Do you—do you ride this thing?”
“Stop.”
“Bells…” My voice drops. “Do you grind on it?”
A strangled sound escapes her throat.
My head tilts.
“You do, don’t you?”
Ava doesn’t answer, but her entire body is pink and hiding and trembling.
“Oh my god.” My mouth falls open. “You do. You grind like a needy little slut on this pink rollercoaster, don’t you?”
She peeks out from behind her hands, glaring. “Soren.”
“My cock just waved the white flag and said, ‘Sir, this is above my pay grade.’”
Despite her embarrassment, a laugh escapes her.
“So that’s what you like, huh?” My voice turns dark and heady, eager to get this inside her. “Grinding. Pressure. Full control.”
The way Ava’s body shifts is answer enough.
I press the power button on the toy and place it below my navel. The hum kicks through me, subtle but powerful, and I beckon her with my free hand, guiding her to straddle me once again.
She stares down at the setup.
“Trust me,” I say. “It’s a win-win.”
Her expression is still hesitant, but she moves on top of me. I help ease her onto it. The curved tip of the toy slides between her pussy lips while the thick base presses right into her clit, both angled to catch her in all the right ways.
And my cock—fuck—it slides between her ass cheeks, snug and hot and perfectly cradled in the slick heat of her body.
She lets out a broken moan the second her hips settle.
I groan beneath her, hands sliding up to cup her breasts. “Jesus, Bells.”
Ava grinds forward, testing the movement, and my dick pulses with every pass. Her body trembles with the pressure from the toy, tightening from the buzz of it.
From this angle, I get everything—full frontal, flushed skin, her nipples pebbled under my palms, every little reaction in her face as she rides the curve of her own craving.
“You’re fucking gorgeous,” I rasp, thumbing her nipples.
Ava whimpers, rolling her hips again. My restraint is snapping.
“Ride it for me,” I growl. “Grind on it like you would when I’m not here. Fall apart for me.”
She obeys and grinds harder. My hands palm her breasts with a mix of reverence and filth, fingers pinching her nipples until they’re tight peaks begging for more. She’s panting now, her rhythm faltering as her body starts to shake.
“You gonna come for me, Bells?” I’m desperate to hear her scream. “Fuck it, baby. Show me how you like it—loud and messy. Soak that toy, make it so wet, it begs for mercy.”
Ava nods, helpless. Lost. Her fingers dig into my skin as if I’m the only thing tying her down to this plane of existence.
“Let me see what you look like when you break, baby.”
And then she does—loud and raw and blindingly beautiful. A scream tears from her throat as her whole body goes rigid. She shakes through it, hips jerking, riding the storm out.
Before Ava finishes coming, I lift her, remove the toy, and lower her onto my aching cock while she’s still convulsing, sinking into her pussy in one desperate, claiming thrust. There’s no way I’m not feeling that for myself.
But the moment I slide in, I’m instantly sucked into the center of a supernova. Hot. Tight. Drenched in her.
Breathless, she gasps, leans forward and presses her forehead to mine as her lips tremble. “You’re my downfall,” she whispers, voice cracked, vulnerable.
“You fucking love it.” I grip her hips, pulse throbbing, breath ragged as I bury myself deeper.
“I do,” she breathes.
“Good,” I growl, barely holding on. “Because I’m not stopping until I come so hard you taste it tomorrow.”
Ava hits another peak, writhing and gasping, her climax crashing over her. I hold her through the aftershocks as her walls pulse around me, fluttering from her orgasm.
“Fuck, Ava,” I grit out, voice shredded, gripping her ass as I guide her rhythm.
She continues to ride me, still trembling, still twitching, her nails digging into my shoulders.
“You feel so goddamn good, baby.”
Ava moans incoherent words, collapses forward, her forehead hitting my chest. Our breaths tangling in the steam. I thrust up once, twice, water splashes—and then I fucking lose it, roaring her name as I come, hips jerking, burying myself deep and emptying every last ounce of need into her.
Ava and I shatter together, wet and messy. And in the silence that follows, the only thing I can hear is the sound of our hearts, still racing. Still secured.
“You know,” I say, running a hand over the curve of her ass. “That was a pretty strong argument for metaphorical intimacy.”