Chapter 15
I’d only planned on stopping at Ava’s long enough to drop off my thank-you gift basket, but I end up staying the whole day.
She never tells me to go.
Mainly, Ava lays on the couch, and I silently fret and quietly clean her kitchen while Kraken runs around on the tile floor chasing a mouse toy. The kitchen wasn’t dirty—no more than an average kitchen—but there are always the hard-to-reach corners and shelves that accumulate dust and grime. I feel better scrubbing that dirt away and knowing Ava won’t have to see or deal with it.
This is something I did when I was younger. My parents had a cook, and I liked the way she would sing to herself while she prepared food. When I would wander into the kitchen to listen to her, she put me to work. I didn’t mind. Cleaning wasn’t hard, and it helped her.
But this isn’t the kind of help Ava truly needs.
I wish I could get hard right now, I silently think in frustration.
But every time I try to focus on how ravishing Ava is, my brain trips back into the pit of worry over how she’s hurting. And I’m stuck at the bottom, pressed down by the guilt that the witch is in pain because of me. Because she gave her magic to me.
I want to ask her why. If it meant something.
But I refuse to berate her when she’s hurting, just so I can have my needy questions answered.
Ava’s arm extends from her blanket cocoon to grip her cup of water. She upends the glass and even across the room I can spy the last trickles of liquid slipping past her lips. My hasty internet search of how to ease migraine pain told me hydration might help.
Might is good enough for me, and there’s nothing I’m better at than keeping things wet.
“Here,” I try to say loud enough for her to catch but soft enough that her head won’t hurt any more than it already does. “I’ll fill that.”
Instead of crossing the room to take it from her, I press the water dispenser on the fridge, and with a flick of my wrist, I send a stream of filtered water through the air to snake down into her cup until I sense the container is full.
Ava tugs down her blanket enough to stare at me with unfocused eyes. “Magical water fountain.”
I offer her a sheepish grin. “That’s me. How are you feeling?”
Ava sets her glass down, and with a groan, she presses herself into a seated position. “There’s less stabbing. Now it’s pounding ache and dizziness.”
I can see the way she sways in her seat as if the couch is moving underneath her.
“What can I do?” I come to her side, kneel, and fight the urge to scoop up her hand and clasp it to my chest. But I don’t need to reach for her because Ava reaches for me. She extends both her arms and rests her hands on my shoulders. Then her storm-cloud eyes claim mine, doing their best to focus.
“I feel gross,” she mutters. “I want a warm bath.”
“Water always makes everything better,” I agree.
“Could you get it started for me?” She waves toward the hallway. “There’s eucalyptus oil under the sink. That helps. Just add a few drops. And don’t let Kraken jump in because eucalyptus is bad for cats.”
“Got it.” This is the perfect task for me. “I will make you the best bath you’ve ever had.”
“That’s some big talk, Squid.” Ava tries to smirk, but it comes out as a pained grimace. “Help me up. I’m going to lean on you and hopefully not puke.”
“Puke your heart out if you need to.” I cup my hands under Ava’s arms as I straighten to my feet, and she rises with me, fingers fisting in the shoulders of my shirt. No issues yet.
Ava drags in a few breaths through her nose then lets go, only to lean into my side. I slip an arm around her waist, then walk in a slow shuffle to the bathroom, where I settle her on the closed toilet lid. We keep the lights off, working only by the daylight creeping through the frosted window set up above the tub/shower combo.
The water comes out of the faucet warm, the sun on the pipes easing the job of the water heater. I make sure the temperature doesn’t go too far in either direction as I let a few eucalyptus droplets fall into the quickly filling tub.
As if called to the water, Kraken comes scampering in, but I catch the kitten before she can climb into the tub. After carrying her out to a cactus-shaped cat tree by the front window, I return to the bathroom, shutting the door behind me.
“Do you need…” My words disappear when I turn to discover Ava has already peeled off her shirt, leaving her topless. As much as I try to be a stronger man, my eyes demand to drop lower and catalogue the blush pink of her nipples.
Gods, I want to taste them. Feel them tighten on my tongue.
Ava shivers as she stands. Then her fingers hook in her waistband and the shorts slip to the floor, and I learn the witch has trimmed her intimate curls into a perfect triangle on her pubic bone.
“Fuck,” I mutter.
A slight flush starts to creep over her skin in response to my staring. I shake my head and tear my gaze away.
“Sorry. I’ll leave you?—“
“Stay,” Ava says in a firmer voice than she’s managed up to this point. “In case I need you.”
The idea that Ava might need me has me ready to do anything. If this witch asked me to carve out one of my kidneys with a spoon, I’d be rummaging through her utensil drawer in the next breath.
Ava maneuvers past me on unsteady feet and reaches out to clutch my arm. I press my hand over hers, feeling the smooth heat of her skin against my palm and biting back a groan as her tits sway when she leans down to grab the side of the tub. Ava lets me go a moment before slipping into the fragrant water that does nothing to cover her luscious, bare curves.
If only she had some bubble bath.
But would that really help at this point? Now that I’ve seen her nude body, my brain is tattooing the image into my gray matter.
“You can sit down,” she murmurs, eyes closed, head reclined on the sloping side of the tub. The caretaker rises in me again, and I’m able to get my mind out of the gutter long enough to grab the hand towel hanging by her sink and roll it into a pillow shape. Then I gently cradle her head, raising her skull off the hard porcelain so I can slip the terrycloth underneath. Ava stares up at me as I guide her head back.
“You’re full of surprises, Samuel Reyes,” she murmurs before closing her eyes again.
“Not really. I’m a simple man. Not even a man really. More of a pig. But a pig that’s nice to you. Like a teacup pig.”
I want to be your teacup pig.
Ava’s plush lips twitch toward a smile, but I still see the strain in the tense muscles of her face and shoulders. I mean to settle on the toilet seat. Put a few feet of distance between us. Instead, my legs end up dropping me on the lip of the tub. Still, I use every fiber of will in my body to keep my gaze collarbones and up.
“Does anything else help?” I whisper the words eager for more tasks, no matter how inconsequential.
Ava cracks one eyelid to study me. Then her glistening hand lifts from the water.
“Ever tried giving a palm massage before?”
“I’m a palm massage virgin,” I admit. “But I’m ready to pop my cherry.” Despite how eagerly I say the lighthearted words, I’m careful as I cradle her limb with both my hands.
I start by pressing my thumbs into the center of her palm and making circular motions.
“Harder,” Ava directs, and my cock twitches in response.
I dig deeper. She gasps and my briefs start to feel tight.
I should’ve known Ava would want a firm touch. Her skin is covered in calluses, I’m guessing from all the time she spends on the pole. The rough skin taunts me. I want to press the rough areas against my lips. Tongue them.
“Goddess,” Ava moans, twisting in the water, a flush coloring her skin like a desert rose. “Just like that.”
I’m so close to pointing out how sexual her words sound, but I refuse to do anything that will have her retreating into her pain when it seems like this might be helping.
I pay attention to each finger, making sure to massage each joint and muscle and tendon. I only stop when she lifts her other hand to balance the attention. All the while, Ava’s boobs crest the warm water like little floatation devices, and she whimpers noises that have me fully hard.
“Sammy,” she whispers my name when I’m working her thumb and thinking about how much I want to slip it into my mouth and suck.
“Yeah?” My voice is a strained rasp.
“Take your dick out.”
My hands pause. “What?”
“Do you want to make me feel better?” the witch asks, her eyes more focused now as she watches me.
“Yes. More than anything.”
Ava slips her hand from mine and settles it around the bottom curve of her boob, thumbing the nipple.
“Then take your dick out and show me how you fuck your hand.”
Her words from earlier come back to me.
“Get horny for me.”
When she’d been sweating and shaking from pain, eyes clouded with sharp agony, my brain couldn’t fathom sexualizing her.
But now Ava is pliant, more relaxed than before, naked body wet and on display. I can still see signs of the pain in her gaze, and I have to battle the internal voice that tells me I’m a shitty person to lust after her when she’s hurting.
Lust helps her. She’s asking me for this.
“You’re sure?”
Her thumb swipes over her pebbled nipple again. “Positive.” Then the temptress tilts her lips in a smirk. “Put on a show for me. It’s only fair.”
I feel a responding grin spreading across my face. “Good point. But I’m a novice performer. You’ll have to go easy on me.”
Ava narrows her eyes with a snort. “Really? You look like a showboater to me.”
She’s not wrong. I’m ashamed to think back on my early twenties when I convinced myself my body—and dick—was a gift to anyone who unwrapped it. Took a few years for me to realize that while my partners might have thought I was hot, they wanted more than sex from me.
And I’m not talking a loving relationship.
To them, I was a good lay and a black credit card.
“Sammy.” Ava saying my name tugs me out of those toxic thoughts and back into this moment.
This moment where the woman of my dreams wants my body. Kind of.
Any hesitation seeps out of my mind when her cloudy gaze holds mine and she murmurs, “Please.”
Fuck. I’d hand over everything I own to hear that single word from her lips again. But I have a more important task than liquidating my life savings.
I’ve got to jerk off.
Since my puke-covered pants are still outside, all that covers my rigid cock are my form-fitting underwear that leave nothing to the imagination. Yeah, buddy. I’m not going to ignore you anymore. Ava’s orders. With a well-practiced slip of my briefs, I’ve got my hard cock out, the steel length ready for action. When I wrap my fingers around my shaft, a grunt sneaks out from deep in my throat.
“Mhmm.” Ava watches me, a pleased murmur telling me I’m doing well.
And that works for me. I want her approval. I want her to tell me I’m a good boy in her husky voice like when she healed me.
“Show me,” she says.
I start low and drag upward, milking myself until a bead of precum leaks out of the tip. “Like this?” I ask, my breath heavy as I ease my stare over her bare body and imagine parting her legs and spreading my liquid on her pink pussy.
“Are you thinking about fucking me, Sammy?” she asks, voice purring. “How tight I’d be? I haven’t had sex in a while. You’d have to get me so wet.” Ava shifts and the water slaps at the sides of the tub. “But you could do that, right? Get me soaked before you slip inside me?” As the needy, filthy water-themed descriptions flow off her tongue, Ava’s eyes stay fixated on my pumping hand.
Meanwhile, I gape down at the woman who is a fantasy come to life. What she describes plays in my mind, vivid enough to have me groaning, my balls tightening.
What in all the hell dimensions?
I never come this fast. Not anymore.
But Ava has me on the edge with only her throaty voice and detailed words.
And she’s not done.
“Last time I came,” she says, “I was thinking about you.”
My entire body stills, hand included, at her confession.
“What?” I rasp, trying to meet her stare.
But she’s gazing at my cock with something like rapture.
“I was in my bed. Naked, legs wide, using my favorite vibrator and imagining you watching me.” Her dangerous eyes flick up to my bewildered ones, but immediately return to my cock. “I want to see you make a mess.”
Fuck all the gods.
My hand squeezes reflexively, my hips jerk, and I erupt, cum fountaining out of my tip, splattering on my T-shirt that I didn’t think to strip off. The sound that comes from my throat is more animal than man, and I grip the side of the tub to keep from sliding to the tiled floor or into the pool of warm water.
But damn, do I want to sink into the tub with Ava. The urge to wrap myself around her and claim her as mine is so strong, I know I need to keep it to myself or else scare her away.
Ava relaxes back with a sigh, and when the haze of ecstasy clears from my eyes, I notice a healthy glow to her skin. Or that’s how it appears anyway.
“Did that help?” There’s a desperate edge to my words. I need to know that tsunami of an orgasm meant something to her, even if it was only a relief from pain.
Ava smiles up at me, but I still see the strain around her mouth and eyes.
“That was…thank you. It did help. My magic is charged up.”
“But do you feel better?” I press.
She sighs, the water rippling with the movement of her chest. “That’s not how it works for witches. We need assists to utilize our magic. For bigger things, anyway.”
I think back on the way she healed my arm.
“Those symbols you drew,” I say, and she nods. “I can get you a marker.” I’m already on my feet, tucking my soft dick into my briefs and ignoring my sticky shirt. Ava said she wanted a mess, and I definitely made one.
Her voice stops me. “It’s not that simple. Not for my migraine, anyway. I brew a tea for the spell.”
“Okay.” I kneel beside the tub. “Tell me how to make it. I’ll brew it. You say the magic words and shotgun it. You’ll be back to berating me for being a creep in no time.”
Despite laying out my perfect plan, Ava doesn’t start rattling off ingredients. Instead, she stares at me with a bemused expression.
“Take your clothes off,” she says.
“You need more power?” I straighten and palm my cock, hoping I can manage a fast recovery time. If Ava starts that dirty talk again, it shouldn’t be a problem.
But she flaps a staying hand. “No. I’m good on fuel. But you’re covered in squid juice. I don’t want to get smeared with it when you help me out of the tub.”
Once again, I glance down at my cum-coated clothes.
“You wanted me to make a mess,” I remind her, even as I tug my shirt over my head and toss it onto the floor. I stand in the middle of the bathroom in my mostly unscathed briefs. “You can stay in the tub. I know how to make tea. When half the ingredients are water, you can’t go wrong with a Squid.”
Ava points behind me, and I turn to find a turquoise terrycloth robe hanging from a hook.
“I need to be the one who makes it,” she explains. Then the witch pushes herself to standing, water cascading off her mind-imploding body. But I don’t gape, instead rushing to wrap her in the robe when her knees wobble.
With my assistance, we make it to the kitchen, and I stay close by, waiting as she heats water and grinds different herbs and spices in a pestle. While observing, I’m ready to lunge forward with a supportive arm if her balance falters. As the witch pours the tea into a pot to steep, I hear her mutter words under her breath and watch as a glow radiates from her hands and transfers to the beverage.
Her power. Fueled by my lust.
Is that all she wants me for?
I try not to explore the tender pain in my chest at the thought, distracting myself by seeking out Kraken. The kitten crouches in the middle of the living room, looking ready to pounce. In front of her is a tiny, dull-yellow scorpion. The pests aren’t uncommon, but I doubt the cat should be tangling with it, no matter how fierce Kraken is. With a flick of my fingers, I draw water from the faucet and send the mini wave across the floor. The scorpion tries to scuttle away, but I scoop it up in a magical current as I stroll to the front door and wash the stinging creature outside where it belongs. Kraken tries to chase after, but I shut the door, scoop her up, and rejoin the witch.
“Thank you,” Ava murmurs, eyeing me with my fuzzy armful.
“Got to protect our monster.” I grin and scratch the little beast under her chin as she purrs.
When Ava pours the green-brown brew into an ‘I ? Banned Books’ mug, she takes a moment to breathe in the steam. Even that simple move has a relaxed note entering her features. Then she blows to dispel some of the heat, and my stare fixates on her pursed lips.
That tea isn’t the only thing that’s hot in this kitchen.
As if sensing my thought, Ava flicks her attention up to me. “I guess it’s only fair to tell you I always know when you’re turned on,” she murmurs. “You think steaming beverages are sexy?” The witch sips her drink, and a smile plumps her cheeks. For the first time since she puked on me, I feel like I can relax.
“What can I say?” I shrug. “I like the idea of you swallowing warm liquid.”
She snorts and rolls her eyes at my dirty joke, then drinks deeper, letting out a sigh.
“Do you feel better now?” I ask.
“Loads.” Her gaze meets mine, then drops to my crotch.
And I can tell we’re both thinking about a particular load. I don’t bother to bite back my smile, thoroughly enjoying sharing immature jokes with the captivating witch.
I’d like to share more with her. Share everything.
But for now, this is enough.