17. Ava
17
AVA
Rays of morning sunlight filter through the slender gaps behind the curtain. I stretch my body languidly, savoring the comfort of the bed, but the absence of Jack’s warmth beside me jolts me awake. Anticipating a cuddle and the possibility of continuing where we left off last night, I ponder what he could be doing.
I hear the water running; it’s from the bathroom next door. I think my man is in there. I rise from my spot, making my way to check on Quinton in his crib. My baby is still peacefully asleep, a true miracle, considering he only woke up once during the night.
“You have my heart. Do you know that?” I whisper. Despite knowing I might wake him, I can’t resist rubbing his chest.
The door creaks open, revealing Jack as he enters the room with careful, tiptoeing steps. Outside, the wooden floor groans under the weight of Huxley’s footsteps, muffled but still audible. I can smell the aroma of freshly brewed coffee, evidence of Huxley’s attempt at silence.
A smile spreads across my face as I take in Jack’s appearance. His body, clad only in boxers, pulls me in like a lure. His hair glistens with dampness, his face fresh as if he has just splashed water all over himself. And oh, those abs, they shimmer in the soft light, rendering me weak. It has only been a few days since his arrival, but the military grooming has given way to a thickening beard. I also notice a trail of hairs leading down to his crotch, an enticing invitation.
He comes closer, his lips meeting mine in a light kiss, a smile directed toward Quinton. “I can’t believe how cute he is,” Jack whispers.
“I can’t either.” I follow his gaze, watching the little boy puckering in his sleep. “Every time I look at him, I tell myself I want another one. And you know what? If I have another one, I will say the same thing.”
His arm encircles my hip, his hand playfully pinching my ass. Perhaps there is still time for a cuddle and maybe even more in bed. But his breathing reveals a hint of exertion, as if he has been running.
“Hey, don’t get all serious about what I just said, okay? I’m not trying to drop hints or anything,” I murmur. But he hitches as if trying too hard to steady his breathing. I place a hand on his cheek. “You okay?”
He rubs the small of my back, grumbling, “I’m fine.”
Slowly my hand lands on his back. As I prepare to give it a comforting rub, my touch arrives at the bump between his shoulder blades. He jerks his back, his usual reaction. Among other things that happened, I never asked about it. Slanting back, I position myself to get a clearer view. “This is a long scar.” I brush a finger along it.
“I don’t know how I got it. For sure, I didn’t have it before the abduction,” he confesses, his face reflecting a mix of contemplation and deliberate avoidance. He then drives my hand away, adding, “Can we not talk about it, please?”
I know it’s more than just a scar for him. Last night, in the twilight between sleep and wakefulness, he asked me if I saw him as a broken man. Exhausted and sated, my response was casual— I’m a sucker for broken men . Perfect men never attract me. Perfect can mean either dull or pretentious. Jack carries his fair share of baggage, and he may be right in calling himself broken. But it’s through those cracks in his armor that I connect with him, and I hope to be the glue that binds his shattered pieces together.
Catching my sidelong glance, he nags, “Stop looking at it, Ava.”
Seeing his pleading eyes, I know now is not the right time to unearth what he’s been concealing. It’s not just from me, but from himself as well. It’s not a secret. It’s a pain that he’s not ready to confront yet.
“How about this?” I point at a brown patch located on his left shoulder. It’s no bigger than the ‘press here’ sticker on a talking teddy you’d see in Target.
Glancing at the spot, he asks with a light tone, “What do you want to know? It’s just a birthmark.”
“It looks like a rabbit.”
He responds with a soft giggle. “That’s what other people say. Where’s your creativity?”
I scrunch up my nose. “How about a jackrabbit?”
“Smarty pants!” He pinches my nose.
I rub the mark, imagining drawing it. “Actually, I think it looks like Elmo.”
He breaks into laughter, his face lighting up. “How?”
“If you stretch his ears up, his silhouette will look like this.” I trail my finger, forming a circle around the mark that looks more like a temporary tattoo. A cute one.
Amusement weaves into his expression. “Okay, let’s settle with Elmo then.”
He grazes the curls at my nape, playfully tickling me. A deep exhale escapes his lips, producing a seductive sound as if his Adam’s apple is aroused—if that’s even possible. And seriously, what am I supposed to do with the manly smell coming from that tiny space between his lips?
He’s about to turn, probably to get dressed, but I don’t give him a chance. Not after that testosterone-ridden breath.
I guide him back onto the soft sheets of the bed, my lips forming a mischievous smirk, my eyes silently conveying— I want you . He inches closer, and I steal a kiss from his lips, sucking that intoxicating air off him. My fingers shamelessly trace the contours of his abs, then venture lower.
“What’s that look?” Jack asks.
Last night, he saw the whole me—uncurated, unfiltered. And he accepted it as if I were the most amazing person he had ever encountered. He didn’t shy away from the parts of me that reminded him of Willem; instead, he embraced them.
Now that Quinton is safely home and Jack is in my bed, satisfying my aching core will be the perfect way to top it off.
“Your woman has a request,” I answer. My hand moves lower, resting on the bulge that strains against the satin fabric of his boxers.
Jack’s grip tightens on my ass, pulling me closer as our lips meet. The collision of our breaths creates a coarse, grating sound as our bodies rub together. My panties are soaked in my arousal, their discomfort a constant reminder of the mounting need to remove them.
“The Comet is out and about.” Jack gestures toward the door. The cozy confines of the house amplify every sound. Huxley’s room lies just beyond, while the kitchen is nearby.
“Yeah, I hear him.”
Jack hums. “It doesn’t feel very private right now.”
“Isn’t that exciting?” I tease, a giggle escaping my lips.
“Ava!” His eyes widen .
“It’s like a milder version of enjoying the thrill of being caught.”
Jack playfully smacks my ass and shakes his head. “And I thought you were the sweet type.” With mischief in his eyes, he pushes me to bed and throws himself on top of me.
I stifle a laugh as he tickles my sides, quipping, “Don’t underestimate a mother in heat.”
“I’ll be damned,” he utters in a sexy, low growl.
“What we should be mindful of is Quinton. We just have to hold our sighs, and our moans, and everything else…” My voice stretches, filled with seduction, almost like a challenge.
“Can you?” He lowers himself.
“I can’t promise anything,” I reply nonchalantly.
His eyes blaze with verve, leaving me guessing what he has in mind. “Have you always been this naughty?”
“I’ve been hiding my true self for far too long,” I confess.
His head cocks to the side, contemplating.
I’m not one to indulge in kinky sex. What I long for is a connection that allows me to witness a man’s genuine masculinity in plain view with no gimmicks, trapping me in his honesty. And I’ve found the man. With that surety, I seek a little play. The idea of someone possibly hearing us excites me, and I make no apology.
He looks at me with a concerned expression as if he’s deciphering the subtle signals I’ve been sending him. “But you just want the two of us, right? Nothing more?”
I let out a silent laugh.
“Relax, Romeo. Threesomes never make my juices flow. Or…maybe I’ve never actually thought about it.” I want to push his buttons and see how he reacts. Truthfully, no matter where my passion takes me, getting involved with another man is out of the question.
Jack pinches my nose. “Just you and me, okay? ”
His face close to mine, I answer with certainty, “I don’t want anyone else, Jack.”
Hearing it, he ravages my lips, his embrace so tight. I sigh, welcoming his weight against me, his morning wood pressed on my stomach. He slides down, his strong grip tugging me along. The cotton sheet caresses my back as he positions me. My legs dangle over the edge of the bed, naked and restless. Feral desire plagues my body, penetrating deep into my bones.
Kneeling between my thighs, Jack’s hands exert a firm pressure as they knead my buttocks. He slides my panties down, fueling vivid fantasies of his tongue lapping at my most sensitive areas. My pussy throbs with need. The lips of my sex swell shamelessly, boldly displaying their arousal.
My thighs push wider apart, granting him full access as he answers my call. He buries his face between my legs, his mouth engulfing my molten clit with a hungry fervor. Waves of pleasure travel from my tits to the tips of my toes. His hands grip my waist, preventing me from bucking. In the absence of my ability to freely writhe, I can’t even release the pressure through my voice. It’s a test of self-control that I may have to forego.
Enjoying my waning resistance, he slips his fingers between my engorged pussy lips, parting them gently. His fingers take control, relentless in their manipulation of my bud, while his tongue adds another layer of sensation. In a desperate attempt to stifle my impending scream, I grab the hem of the sheet and bite down on it.
Jack gives me a momentary reprieve, allowing himself to savor my surrender to the immense arousal. When he crawls up, I notice he has stripped off his boxers. His hardness brushes against my belly, taunting me.
A satisfied smirk graces Jack’s lips as he takes in my plea. “More? ”
How do I respond? I want him so damn badly, but sooner or later, my screams will betray me, waking Quinton and announcing to our guest outside that I’m in full sexual mode.
But I’m at the point of no return. I ditch my T-shirt, giving him a sign to move on.
His eyes fixate on my bare breasts. But eager to return to my core, he comes back down, drinking me like a mythical fountain of youth. It’s a sensation I had long forgotten, but now it’s reignited with an exquisite and considerate touch. His eyes periodically raise to me as if assuring me that he’s doing it all to please me.
My orgasm builds, tightening my core with overflowing pleasure. This time, he allows me to buck and jerk however I want.
He then lifts my ass with one hand, allowing his tongue to penetrate me at a new angle. Simultaneously, his finger flicks my bud one last time, and I succumb. It’s a silent orgasm, yet its impact reverberates louder than any sound I’ve ever uttered.
Jack crawls toward me, letting go more of his weight on me as if signaling the intensity of his next moves. His cock and balls graze my belly, leaving a trail of wetness.
“Jack, baby,” I sigh. With a single look at his stunning face, I affirm my trust and desire for him. In return, he reciprocates my gesture. We’re like two souls fusing as one, neither eclipsing the other.
Willem never truly destroyed me, as I refused to let him, but he did take a piece of me. Being with Jack last night allowed me to reclaim my sense of self fully. This morning, he proves his words were not empty promises—it’s me before him.
“Damn, you taste so good,” he growls, sliding his wet finger inside my mouth .
I savor it, knowing that what I taste is also how he tastes. He then drives my hand toward his hardened manhood. I wrap my fingers around his shaft, rubbing it, encouraging him. Hooking my armpits, he pushes me up the bed, ensuring that my legs are no longer hanging over the edge. He separates my knees, positioning himself at my entrance.
“Ava, I didn’t bring any protection.”
“I don’t have any either.”
He takes a few seconds to contemplate. “I’m going to pull out when I come. Are you okay with that?”
My heart swells with understanding. While I would gladly accommodate him completely, I know there are still ghosts that haunt him. Tempting fate would be foolish. “Yes, I’m okay with that,” I answer fervently.
“It’s not that I don’t want to come inside you. I’m just not ready.”
“I understand, Jack. It’s fine.”
He kisses me, his lips brushing against mine with a gentle touch, filled with gratitude. As he eases into me, the head of his cock pushes past my entrance, stretching me. Thanks to his unhurried pace, any discomfort transforms into a sweet ache.
Then, without warning, he thrusts harder, fully spreading me open. I gasp, my core clenching involuntarily as his movements hit the walls deep inside me. My fingers grip his shoulders, my mouth hanging open in a mix of surprise and pleasure. His erection fills me completely, even overflowing, forcing me to open up wider.
Just as I’m about to cry out, he latches onto my lips. My longing for him burns wildly as his body rhythmically moves up and down, his cock resembling a powerful engine piston firing at full speed. Every fiber of my being is obliterated by his relentless effort to bring me pleasure .
His masculine scent blankets me. Driven by his rubbing, my breasts plump against his firm chest. And then, he penetrates me deeply with one long glide. My throat constricts, my voice vanishes as my orgasm cascades more magnificently, surpassing any previous experience.
After witnessing me coming, Jack’s breath quickens into gasps, his thrusts becoming more urgent, his testicles lurching as they press rigidly against my perineum. Our bodies continue to grind together, slick with a mixture of sweat and desire. Then, everything in him tenses, followed by a tremor coursing through his hips and pelvis. He withdraws, his head landing beside my cheek, his face flat on the space within the pillow. A muffled scream trembles next to my ear as he spurts his warm seeds onto my belly.
Collapsing with a roll, he avoids crashing into me. With haste, he kisses me, his breath hitching. “You’re incredible,” he murmurs, his eyes locked with mine as he fondles my breasts.
Oh shit…
I hurriedly shield my nipples, trying to contain the flow of milk. Some cloudy droplets cling to his skin. So, the slickness between our bodies was more than just sweat and desire. I must have leaked during my climax.
I sigh, “Gosh, I’m sorry…”
His kiss mutes my words and his hands cover my nipples, replacing mine. Carrying on with his fondling, he whispers appreciatively, “The beauty of a lactating mother.” And just like that, he erases any trace of my embarrassment.
We lie entwined. The residual heat from our sex hangs in the air, enveloping us as we drift into slumber. I awaken to a sudden chill as Jack stirs beside me. Then I hear faint rustling from within the crib. I make my way over to check on Quinton. The boy wears a serene smile, his eyes still shut tight, lost in his dreams. I gently stroke his cheek before turning back to Jack.
His gaze lingers on my naked body. His hand reaches out, urging me to return to his side.
“You’re one sexy mama,” he murmurs in my ear, his hand tracing the contour of my waist and hip. He doesn’t mind the imperfections, the softness, or the stretchmarks that adorn my belly.
“I can’t believe Quinton is still asleep.”
“He knows we needed this.” He presses me against him.
Oh, how we needed it!
“I’m going to take a shower. Can you keep an eye on Quinton?” I ask.
“Of course. Just make sure you’re decent when you step out,” he says, his gaze lingering on my nakedness.
I chuckle softly. “I think the cat isn’t in the kitchen anymore.”
“Wherever he is, please, cover up,” he pleads.
“No one will see my body except you,” I whisper.
He captures my lips in a passionate kiss. His excitement is palpable as he guides my hand to feel his arousal once again. “You’ve turned me into an addict, don’t you know?” his voice husky, so erotic it sets my body ablaze as if he’s back inside me.
I respond with a hum, challenging him softly— what are you gonna do about it?
He continues, “I’m going to make love to you every single day.”
With that, I abandon my plan to shower and ravage him relentlessly.