Chapter 29 Avonna
twenty-nine
Avonna
Four Months Later
On my first trip to Europe, I only meant to stop in Dublin for a few days.
I fell in love with the city before I even made it to the Liffey.
It was the Fourth of July, and while Americans shot fireworks across the ocean, I played my first pub gig. Terrified. Energized. Alive.
I stuck to my original plan for a while. Visited London, Paris, Spain, Vienna. With only my guitar and a backpack, I traveled light. Laughed a lot and spent another month in Dublin playing the open mic circuit before my visa ran out.
I went back to the States, gave notice on my apartment and worked two more months of double shifts at Delgado Cocina, and booked a one-way ticket back.
Even while staying in a hostel with creaky bunks and warm tea, it feels like home here. I don’t need much. I sing in pubs, slip into trad jams when they’ll have me, and busk on Grafton whenever the sky holds.
I’m even brave enough to post it all on YouTube. It’s been years since I escaped and no one from my old life has attempted to contact me. With a new name and a new outlook, I’m pretty sure my past is in the past.
Music makes me feel real. Grounded. Free. If I’m gonna make a living at it, I’ve got to put myself out there. Slowly, I’m building up a following. It’s exciting. I finally know what I want to do with my life.
Things are looking up in my love life as well.
Not long after I returned, he came up to me after a pub set off Dame Street. Tall, bearded and handsome with a broad chest and strong arms, Linus O’Donnell handed me a card. Isis Management. He asked if I was playing anywhere else and his eyes focused on mine without drifting.
He showed up at my next gig a few nights later. Then again. And again.
Every time I saw him, the pull was stronger. He listened to me like he was memorizing every note. I loved how calm his voice was when he said my name.
Immediately, there was something about him I couldn’t shake. He seemed familiar, like I’ve seen him before in a dream or a different life. I haven’t been able to figure out why.
Curiosity has turned into desire. I get wet dreaming about his hands on my hips, pushing my shirt up. My nipples pucker when I remember how he looks at my mouth. I want his weight over me, his breath against my throat, his cock inside me while I shake apart.
Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had a lot of sex in Europe. Fast. Fun. Reckless. Nothing permanent, only something to scratch an itch.
Now I need this.
Him.
Linus is the man for me. I know it with every fiber of my being. He doesn’t chase. Or impose. The hunger in his eyes is tempered by patience. Which makes me want him more.
Turns out, I’m ravenous for a man who doesn’t rush the unraveling.
Tonight, over candlelight and red wine, between shared bites and confession-shaped silences, he finally asked me back to his flat. I said yes. To now. To this.
The second the door clicks shut, I’m on him.
I kiss him like I’m starving. It feels like I’ve waited a goddamn lifetime for the taste of his mouth. Weeks of him watching me play, his deep eyes marinating in every note like he already knows we’re meant to be.
He kisses back with the same hunger. His hands are strong, gripping my waist like he owns it. He spins us and presses me against the wall, and fuck, the way he breathes against my neck...
I’m soaked already. No point pretending I’m not.
“You have no idea,” he rasps, dragging his mouth across my jawline, “how many nights I’ve pictured you like this.”
“Say it out loud.” I tilt my head, daring him. “Tell me.”
His hand slides down, rough palm skimming under my dress, over my bare thigh. “Bent over. Legs shaking. Pussy drippin’ down my cock.”
Good God. He’s a dirty talker. My breath stutters. I grind against him, dress hitched high on my hips now, nothing underneath but heat and want.
“Well, you’re in luck. I’m so fucking wet for you,” I wheeze. “I’ve been soaked since dinner.”
He growls—growls—and drops to his knees in front of me like I’m destined to be worshipped.
Linus pulls my dress up and buries his face between my thighs, tongue sliding through my pussy like he’s trying to taste every inch of me.
My hand flies to the back of his head, hips rolling against his mouth.
He alternates licking me and circling my clit until I’m shaking.
Devouring me like he needs it to survive.
“You eat my pussy like you’re starving.” I bite my knuckle.
“I do mean it.” His voice is thick with need. “This pussy deserves to be licked and tasted and fucked.”
He slides two fingers into me, curling them exactly right, and my knees buckle. I cry out, hips thrusting against his face as he teases my clit and fucks me with his fingers like he’s got something to prove. I come fast, and messy, spraying him with my release as my nails dig into his shoulders.
Undaunted, he continues on, licking up every drop like it’s his final meal.
When he finally stands, his mouth glistens with me. He kisses me deep, and I taste myself on his tongue.
“Bedroom,” I say breathlessly.
He lifts me like I weigh nothing. I wrap my legs around his waist, feel the thick bulge of his cock through his jeans, hot and heavy against my saturated center. I grind against him, shameless.
“You’re not gonna last long,” I whisper into his ear. “I feel how hard you are.”
“Then I’ll fuck you again,” he says, “and again. Until you forget every other person who’s ever touched you.”
We hit the bed in a mesh of limbs. Clothes ripped, tossed. His cock springs free and, Jesus fuck, it’s thick, long, dripping at the tip. My mouth waters. I want it everywhere.
“Condom,” I manage, my breath ragged.
He finds one in his nightstand and sheathes himself in one smooth motion. Spreads me open with his big hands and slides in.
Oh. Fucking. Hell.
Inadvertently, I arch under him. Linus fills me to the hilt, every inch forcing a moan from my lips.
He doesn’t move at first, allowing me to adapt to his size and girth.
His cock is the biggest I’ve ever experienced and I’m overwhelmed.
For a moment, he stays buried, watching me.
Like he wants to remember the exact second he claimed me.
“Your pussy,” he kisses all over my face, “is perfect.”
He starts to thrust. Dragging it out. Making me feel every goddamn ridge, every vein. My cunt grips him like it doesn’t want to let go.
“Do you feel me?” he growls. “My cock is yours.”
“Yes, I feel every millimeter,” I hiss. “You’re splitting me open.”
Once I’ve adjusted, he fucks me like a promise. His hands clutch my hips and he pulls me onto his cock with every thrust. I meet him stroke for stroke. He shifts angles, hits my G-spot, and I scream.
“Right there,” I beg. “Don’t you ever fucking stop.”
He doesn’t. He pounds into me rough. Relentless. Skin slapping. Sweat slick. His hand slips between us, thumb circling my clit, and I shatter. Loud, raw, pulsing around his cock while he fucks me through it.
“Gonna come,” Linus grits. “Where do you want it?”
“Inside me,” I cling to him. “Fill the condom. Let me feel it.”
He slams into me once, twice, and comes with a sound like an feral animal. His whole body tenses as he spills into the condom. I watch him, eyes squeezed shut, mouth open, and I know I’ve ruined him.
He’s ruined me too.
Linus collapses beside me. We’re both drenched in sweat and whatever the fuck passed between us. My heart’s still racing. My pussy clenches at the emptiness like it’s missing an essential piece.
He pulls me close. “You okay?” he murmurs against my neck.
“Better than okay.” I nod, grinning like a woman struck by lightning.
This was something else. Exactly what I’ve been hoping for. For now, I don’t tell him I’m not built for monogamy. Right now, with his memory of his perfect cock inside me and his breath steadying next to mine, he’s more than enough.
We lie entwined, heaving, skin still hot to the touch. Linus’ hand drifts across my stomach like he’s tracing ownership in the grooves of my body. I don’t stop him. His fingers find the edge of the blanket and pull it up around us like we need to be cocooned.
Minutes pass. Or hours. I wouldn’t know. Time is a meaningless creature when you’re this satiated.
“Ice cream?” he rasps, with a glint of mischief, like he already knows the answer.
I blink at him. Then laugh. “You’re offering me dessert after sex?”
“Aye.” He leans in, teeth grazing my nipple. “I’m offerin’ you fuel for round two.”
We stumble into the kitchen naked, my thighs glossy with our aftermath and anticipation of what’s still coming. The fridge light is too bright. Everything else is dim. Moonlight snakes in through half-closed blinds, catching the curve of his back, the cut of muscle over bone.
Linus looks beautiful in this light. Godly. I can’t shake the feeling he’s bound to me by heat and something older than memory.
He grabs a pint of mint chip and two spoons. I steal it from him before he can open it, hop up onto the counter, legs spread, spoon in hand.
“Feed me,” I smirk.
He does. Spoonful after cold, sweet spoonful. His eyes never leave my mouth.
“You’re trouble,” he murmurs.
“You like it.”
He dips his fingers in the container and, sticky with melting mint, he presses them into my mouth. I suck them unabashedly.
“Mmmmmmm….” Linus sets the pint down, steps between my legs, and kisses me. Hardly gentle, the opposite.
I wrap my legs around his waist. I don’t care if we’re in the kitchen. I don’t care if we fucked like animals ten minutes ago. I need him again. Reaching down, I grip his cock. Run my finger over his slit.
“You’re insatiable,” he murmurs against my lips.
“Well, I’m not done with you,” I breathe. “Clearly, you’re not done with me.”
His mouth crashes against mine. Cold hands on hot skin and then we’re colliding again. He lifts me effortlessly, strong hands under my thighs. My breath catches as he rubs himself against my opening.
“I’m clean,” I assure him.
He nods, “Me too.”
“I’m on the pill.”
“Then I’m all yours.”
There’s no hesitation this time. No barrier. His bare cock slides into me like my pussy was made to mold around him.
My head falls back as he fills me to the hilt. I swear I feel him in my ribs.
“Fuck, Avonna,” he growls. “You’re perfect. Warm. Wet. Open for me.”
“Don’t you dare stop.” I grip his shoulders.
“I wasn’t plannin’ on it.” He grinds into me with brutal precision. The fridge rattles behind us. The spoon hits the floor. I can’t stop shaking.
He fills me over and over again, all thick heat and pressure. My body welcomes him, no resistance. Raw need. I’m sensitive from the first time but it only makes this second taking more brutal. More real. More fated.
“Christ…” He rests his forehead against mine, watching my face twist with ecstasy. “You’re grippin’ me like you don’t wanna let go.”
“I don’t,” I gasp. “I want your cock to live inside me forever. Every inch. Every fucking inch.”
He pulls out halfway, with the head inside, then he slams in powerfully enough to make my vision blur.
“Linus.”
“Yes.” He fucks me in steady, devastating strokes. “Say my name while I’m inside you. Let this pussy know who belongs inside it.”
“You do,” I choke out. “Linus. Fuck—”
The friction is devastating. Every time he bottoms out, he hits my G-spot, again and again. He’s not human. It’s like he knows my body better than I do, like he’s been here in other lifetimes, carving this path through me, chasing the same fire.
The kitchen is filled with the slaps of skin, the sound of him sliding in and out of me. Filthy. Perfect. He rocks his pelvis into me, now hitting my clit with a dark, deliberate rhythm. The dual stimulation is unreal. Like two cocks are fucking me at once.
My pussy clamps down so hard he cries out. Good. I want him to lose himself the way I’m unraveling, melting around him like wax.
“You’re gonna come for me again.” He bites my lower lip. “I feel it. Your sweet little pussy’s milkin’ me already.”
“I want all of it,” I shriek, wild, unashamed. “I want you to fill me up. I want to feel you drip out of me.”
He slams into me until the edge is right there, coiled and ready, molten and monstrous. When I let go, it’s a full-body detonation. My back arches, mouth open in a silent scream as my pussy locks around his cock.
“Fuckfuckfuck—” he chokes, and I feel his cock swell. His whole body tenses, hands bruising my hips as he empties himself into me.
We stay locked together, unwilling to separate, for a long time.
We’re not two people anymore.
We are a ritual. A ruin. A revelation.
He finally exhales against my neck, kisses my throat, and whispers something sounding a lot like, “mine.”
I hold on to the moment. The madness.
Fate itself is watching.
Neither of us will ever be the same again.