Chapter 19
Scottie
The hardest discipline on earth isn’t rugby. Or ballet. It’s the effort it takes not to lose control when Ava MacKinney is begging for my tongue.
I’m currently ruining her for all other men, and I’m doing it with a level of dedication reserved for a World Cup final I’ve been dreaming of.
Fuck that. This is so much better.
Sunday morning, barely light, and I’m desecrating my childhood bedroom’s old single bed.
‘I can’t get enough of you.’ I sweep my tongue right over the sweet bundle of nerves that has her pushing my face into her pussy, and she makes a sound that I will remember for the rest of my life.
‘Ohhh yes…’
‘Shhh…’ I cover her mouth with my palm. ‘They’re awake now. Unless you want to explain to my mum why you’re yodelling, you bite your lip or you bite my hand.’
Ava’s eyes are dark with lust. She chooses my hand and bites into the fleshy part of my palm as I swirl my tongue again.
I slip a finger inside her tight hole and move fast in and out while I keep teasing her clit with my mouth – just so she gives me another one of those deep moans.
And I’m doing it with my left.
The suction breaks with a squeaking hiss of air.
‘Oh my god.’ She’s mumbling against my palm and staring at my chest, cheeks a brilliant pink.
I lean back enough to look at her. ‘Was that a cheeky wee queef, Ava?’
She laughs and hides her face behind her palms. ‘You can’t ask me that. That’s against sex rules.’
‘Don’t be daft. It’s adorable.’ I kiss her inner thigh and smile against the soft skin. ‘Air goes in, air comes out. As long as I’m the man who’s doing it, I’m fucking thrilled.’
I’ve never had the compulsion to please a woman like this. I need to keep going. I physically can’t stop making Ava happy.
I guide her back to my mouth, and she giggles. I feel the shake of it deep in her core, travelling down her spine before I drown it out by burying my face in her heat. I want to live here and never deal with the real world again.
We’ve been at it since last night, and it feels so easy and natural I don’t know how I’m ever supposed to let her out of my bed.
Months of holding back and looking away, all of it pouring out now like a blown pressure valve.
I love that she lets me give her pleasure.
That she wants me to do it. She’s trusting me.
And I swear, I’ll honour that trust.
‘Oh!’ She digs her heels into the bed. ‘Close. God, I’m close. I’m coming. I’m…’
I double down. ‘Come on my tongue, Ava. I want every fucking drop.’
‘Yes! Scottie… Ah! Ahhh…’
Her body goes taut, her thighs are shaking, and I ride out every spasm of her climax with my tongue, only easing back when she sags into the sheets. I revel in all of it. The flush spreading down her collarbone. The tears leaking from the corners of her closed eyes.
My own breathing is ragged as I crawl up her body.
Ava peers up at me, blissfully fucked. Her long hair’s down, light brown with threads of copper I didn’t expect.
I barely registered it last night in the dark, but seeing it fan across the pillow now, catching the soft morning light… God. So gorgeous.
‘You, Sir,’ she pants, pointing a trembling finger at my chest, ‘should register that tongue as a weapon.’
I drop a kiss on her chin. ‘I see it more as a gift.’
She laughs that husky snort again and reaches for me. Her hand travels down my chest, over my abs, and finds me rock-hard.
Her eyebrows fly up. ‘Again or still?’
I grind against her core to let her feel my problem. ‘It’s a permanent condition at this point.’
A spark of mischief cuts through the haze. ‘Well. Good thing we have…’ She looks at the bedside table, and her face falls. Two open foil wrappers from last night, that’s it.
‘Oh no,’ she says. ‘That was the last one?’
‘We were lucky I had two. Didn’t think I’d need a bulk supply this weekend. Or ever.’
‘We don’t need a rubber for everything.’ She shifts, angling her wet heat right against me. ‘And I want you to have fun, too. Maybe there’s a way…’
Fun. The word is so wildly inadequate it’s laughable.
‘I-I…want to watch you come,’ she says. ‘On me.’
Every coherent thought I’ve ever had explodes. ‘You serious?’
Her face is bright red. ‘Yes. I want… I want to see you lose it for me.’
I’m so fucking gone for her. By now, I’d give her anything she asks for.
And she’s so damn wet we don’t need anything else to make it feel good.
I push the root of my thick ridge down with my thumb and rub through her soaked pussy lips.
The slide of it drags a groan out of me.
I pick up the pace and track the fluttering at the base of her throat.
The sweat beading on her upper lip. The way she meets every glide.
She likes it. I can tell. She’s biting down on her bottom lip so hard it’s turning white, and her free hand – the one that isn’t resting on my chest – drifts up her own body to her pretty little tits.
She rolls one nipple between her fingertips, pinching, and the sight of it sends a jolt straight through my cock.
‘Ava. Fuck, that’s so fucking hot… You’re…’ I can’t finish. I can’t even breathe.
‘So… So good. God, Scottie, keep going…’
The friction is too fucking amazing. It tightens every muscle in my lower back.
‘Right there. Oh god, right there…’ She shudders, a sob catching in her throat. ‘You feel so good. You feel so… Ah!’
Everything cinches up. Fuck, I’m close, too. But she’s closer, and she’s getting there first if it kills me.
‘That’s it, Ava.’ I growl. ‘Give me another one.’
Her spine bows, and her mouth falls open on a silent ‘o’. Her lids squeeze shut. She’s bucking up against me in helpless twitches, riding it out, and her little clenches push me over the edge with her.
I’m there. I’m fucking right there.
‘Shit. Do you really want my cum all over you?’
‘Yes… yes!’ she pants, gaze locked on mine, glassy and wild. ‘Please.’
The drawn-out please destroys me.
The base of my spine catches fire. My balls tighten, and my orgasm builds behind my navel.
One more stroke and I fracture. I spill hot and white across her stomach in thick, pulsing streaks.
My whole body jerks into each one. She doesn’t look away.
She watches it happen, watches me happen, as the aftershocks rack my body.
‘Oh my god.’ Her voice is barely there. ‘Scottie…’
I collapse and bury my face in the curve of her shoulder, breathing her in while my heart pistons against my ribs.
‘Jesus suffering Christ,’ I breathe.
‘Yeah.’ She strokes my hair. ‘We’re good at sex.’
‘So good it’s scary.’
She kisses my temple. ‘Not with you, it isn’t.’
Seriously, I don’t deserve this woman.
My body is trying to reassemble itself around the shape of what happened, and my pieces don’t fit the same way they did before.
Something has shifted. Something load-bearing.
I’m trained for impact. For the collision, the sprint.
The aftermath of this… I’ve no conditioning for it.
My hands want to be useful – straighten the sheet, check the time, reach for a glass of water.
Anything to bear the rawness of what she gave me.
Herself.
I clean us up with the T-shirt I discarded earlier – classy, I know – toss it aside, and curl up behind her, tugging the duvet over us.
She fits.
Her hand doesn’t even span my forearm. ‘You’re insanely large, you know that?’ she says.
‘Is that a complaint or a compliment? It sounded like you were enjoying it.’
‘That’s not what I mean. Although…’ She smirks. It’s beautifully free and cute and breathtaking. Everything about her is. ‘You know you’re ridiculous, right? The shoulders. The arms. It’s like sleeping with a custom-built, oversized sex fantasy.’
Flames rise up my torso all the way to my face. Me. The utility player – a sex fantasy. The mismatch blindsides me.
‘Och, just big, heavy bones.’ I look away, fighting the grin trying to take over my face.
‘And a big, heavy boner.’
I laugh. ‘You’re quite mouthy for a wee dancer, you know that?’
She beams at me and squeezes my arm. ‘It’s not my fault you’re so sexy. I could climb you all day long and never get enough.’
Each word finds a part of me that’s been dark so long it can’t handle the light. I want to deflect. To make a joke. Do what I always do – pass the ball so someone more deserving can score. But she won’t let me. She’s looking right at me.
I kiss the damp hair above her ear. Every wall I’ve ever built is leaning, and they aren’t worth a damn against this tiny person and the dangerous ease with which she strips me bare.
Be my girlfriend.
The word surfaces, and I turn it over. Too teenage, too small, too much like claiming something I haven’t earned. Ava isn’t a label. She’s a demolition and a reconstruction. There’s no word for what she is.
One thing I know for sure: She has me in the palm of her hand.
The thought winds me. If she walks away after this, she takes the bolts holding me upright with her.
‘Scottie?’ She half-turns and examines me with perceptive eyes. She sees too much. ‘You went somewhere.’
‘I’m right here,’ I say. ‘I’m not going anywhere. We’re not going anywhere.’
‘We have to go downstairs eventually.’
‘Do we, though?’ I ask.
‘Your family will notice what we’re up to.’
‘I bet they already have. David probably has a stopwatch running.’
‘Oh god. I can’t look any of them in the eye again.’ She groans and buries her face in the crook of her elbow. ‘I’ll run a bath and find the hair dryer, okay?’
‘Naw. It’s fine. Welcome to the Kerr family, where boundaries are non-existent. You’ll get used to it.’
And I want her to. I want her to get so used to this that she doesn’t even think about leaving. I want her to get used to…us.
I’m holding Ava’s hand as we descend the stairs, thirty minutes and one shared shower later. My palm is clammy. She squeezes my fingers once, and I squeeze back.