Chapter 10
Viper
The ride back is a blur.
Ava clings to me on the bike, arms wrapped tight around my waist, her body trembling with exhaustion.
Her face is tucked against my back, and I can feel every shake of her breath through my cut.
The engine roars beneath us, but the only sound I care about is the steady thrum of her heartbeat pressed to mine.
The roads twist through Lovestone Ridge, familiar and dark. She’s quiet. I don’t push her to speak. Not yet. Not until I get her home.
My home.
Our home.
We reach the cabin just as dawn threatens the horizon. Pale light crawls across the porch as I kill the engine and set the bike steady. I climb off first, then turn to help her down.
She stumbles. I catch her.
“Easy,” I murmur, my arms wrapping around her. “I got you.”
Her hands grip my cut like she’s afraid I’ll disappear. Her lip is swollen, split at the corner. Her cheek is bruised, and there are faint bloodstains on her hoodie. But she’s alive.
I carry her inside.
She doesn’t protest.
I flick on a low light. Everything in me wants to rage, to scream, to turn back and finish what I started, put Richard Smith in the ground instead of handing him over to the law. But she needs me calm. Steady.
She needs aftercare. Not vengeance.
“I’m gonna run us a shower,” I say gently, helping her out of the hoodie. “Nice and warm. You okay with that?”
She nods, barely.
I strip down with her, careful with every piece of clothing. She flinches when the hoodie brushes the raw skin near her wrists. I curse under my breath and kiss the mark.
“I’ll take care of it,” I promise.
The shower steams up fast. I lead her in, the heat wrapping around us. She stands under the spray, eyes closed, letting the water run over her hair, her face, her bruised skin.
I grab a washcloth. “Let me?”
She nods again.
I soap her shoulders first, then her back. I wash her gently, like every inch of her is sacred. I kneel to wash her legs, gentle over the bruises, and when I reach her wrists, I press a kiss to each before cleaning them.
Her lips tremble. But she doesn’t cry.
She looks at me.
“I thought he’d break me,” she whispers.
I shake my head. “He didn’t.”
Her fingers touch my jaw, rough and tender all at once. “You came for me.”
“Always,” I say. “Every time.”
I wash her hair next, lathering shampoo into the strands, fingers massaging her scalp. She melts under the touch, leaning into me. Her eyes flutter shut. It’s the first time I’ve seen her look peaceful in hours.
When we step out, I wrap her in a towel, then grab another to dry her off. She lets me, quiet as I pat her skin dry.
I lead her to the bed, pull the covers back, and help her in.
“I need you close,” she says.
I strip out of the towel and slide in beside her, pulling her against my chest. Her head fits under my chin like it was always meant to be there.
Minutes pass.
Then she lifts her head and looks up at me.
“Can I…?”
“You never have to ask,” I say.
She kisses me. Slow, tender.
Then she climbs into my lap, straddling me. Her body still bears bruises, but she doesn’t shy away.
My hands find her hips first, fingers spreading wide to hold her steady without gripping too hard, feeling the soft give of her curves under my palms.
I slide them up to her waist, thumbs brushing beneath her breasts, then down to her thighs, kneading the flesh there lightly, careful to avoid the swollen spots near her ankles.
She reaches between us slow but determined. Her fingers wrap around my cock, stroking from base to tip with a feather-light touch that still sends heat shooting through me.
I’m fully hard now, thick and throbbing in her hand, the head slick with pre-cum. She lifts her hips just enough, positions me at her entrance, and guides me inside.
I groan as her pussy takes me in, inch by inch, her walls hot and wet, clenching softly around me. She’s tight, even this aroused, and I fight the urge to thrust up, holding still so she can set the pace.
Her ankles rest lightly on either side of my thighs. No strain, no pressure. She goes up, then sinks down, taking all of me, and we both pause there. Breathing hard. My cock buried to the hilt.
We make love slow. No rush. Just need.
She starts rocking over me, hips rolling in gentle waves, lifting and lowering with careful rhythm. I match her, hands still at her hips, guiding without forcing, helping her find the tempo that feels good without pulling on her bruises.
Her breasts sway with each movement, nipples hard and begging. I lean forward, mouth closing around one, sucking lightly, tongue flicking the peak. She moans, breathy and soft, her good hand sliding into my hair.
“You’re mine,” I breathe against her skin as she grinds down, her clit catching on the base of my cock. “Forever, Ava.”
She nods, eyes locked on mine. She moves a little faster now, her slick heat sliding up and down my shaft, the sound of it filling the room.
I feel everything. Every tight flutter, every clench of her pussy around me when I shift my hips to hit deeper.
My hand moves to her ass, cupping one cheek and squeezing gently, guiding her with care. The other stays at her waist, keeping her steady.
Pleasure builds like a slow burn. Her breaths turn to shaky whimpers.
I reach between us, thumb circling her clit in rhythm with her hips. She’s drenched, coating my cock and balls, the wetness making every glide deeper, easier.
Her walls pulse tighter, squeezing me like a vice. I groan, the sound rough in my throat, holding back just long enough for her to reach the edge.
“Mason…” she gasps, voice breaking as she comes.
Her whole body shudders, pussy clenching around me in waves.
I thrust up once, twice, controlled and careful, then I lose it, spilling inside her with a deep, ragged growl.
Heat floods her as I come, buried deep, filling her until there’s nothing left but the sound of our breathing.
She collapses against me, her forehead on my shoulder, my arms around her. Light, protective, wrapped around every inch of her like a vow.
No words. Just the afterglow. The silence of something real.
I kiss her temple, breathe her in.
“I meant it,” I murmur. “You’re mine. Forever.”
Tears slip down her cheeks, but she’s smiling too.
“You really mean it?” she whispers.
I reach to the nightstand. Pull out the small box I’d hidden there.
Her eyes widen.
I open it. A ring. Simple. Silver. Engraved inside with one word: Always Mine.
“I was gonna wait,” I say. “But I don’t want to. Not after tonight. I need you to know. You’re it for me.”
She gasps.
“Marry me,” I say. “Let me protect you. Love you. Build something real with you.”
Her hands shake as she takes the ring.
“Yes,” she whispers. “God, yes.”
I slide it onto her finger, and then I pull her down, kissing her like a man who just found his whole damn heart.
Because I did.
We fall asleep hours later, tangled in sheets and each other, the ring glinting on her hand.
My woman.
My world.
Mine.