5. Sawyer
CHAPTER 5
Sawyer
SOMETHING ’BOUT A WOMAN
Mother fucker this feels good.
Ava’s hand cupping my face. Her fingers in my hair. Her lips on my lips, so soft and warm that my eyes roll to the back of my head behind my closed lids.
Groaning, I give her belt loop another tug, yanking her against me so our hips are flush. At the same time, I slant my mouth over hers, stroking my tongue between the slick seam of her lips.
My dick thickens. I press it against her and she makes a little sound, a moan of encouragement.
I don’t waste a second. I suck her bottom lip into my mouth, and she curls the fingers she has in my hair, giving it a gentle pull. My pulse spikes when her tongue finds mine.
The kiss falls into a deep, steady rhythm, my stubble catching on her chin, her cheeks. I tilt my head one way, then another, Ava following me without missing a beat as our lips and tongues tangle, taste.
Her kiss has a definite flavor—champagne and sex. Her eagerness, the tenderness of her touch, is so fucking sweet. But the heat of her mouth, her hunger, is pure lust.
The combination—the juxtaposition—is a mindfuck.
I wanna fuck this girl so bad that I’m practically shaking.
But Ava won’t be rushed, and I like that. She takes my bottom lip between her teeth and gives it a gentle bite. She kisses my chin, the dimple in my left cheek. She’s dropping one hand to my chest, hooking her thumb into the top button of my shirt.
I never want the sensory overload to end. Warmth spreads in every direction—from my center outward, from my skin inward. The head-on collision of all this heat is overwhelming.
Can already tell I’m gonna need a cigarette after this.
Many cigarettes.
I bite down hard on her lip, making Ava yelp. But before I can ask if it’s too much, she’s shoving the button through its hole and then reaching for the hem of my shirt.
I’m wearing an undershirt, a plain white T softened by countless cycles in the washing machine. But my body rings at the contact nonetheless, my abdominals contracting when she slips a hand inside the shirt.
“Wow,” she murmurs into our kiss. “You always run this hot?”
“Yep.” My turn to feel her up. As I glide my hand inside her shirt, I nearly bite off my tongue at the soft, smooth feel of her skin. “What about you?”
“Only when I’m riding.”
I chuckle, my heart flipping when she captures the sound in a quick, hard kiss. “But you’re not riding.”
“Not yet.” She slowly moves her hand higher, caressing my stomach and side with her fingers. She stops to admiringly explore my skin, my hair. Muscles and bones.
I grit my teeth. “You best not be playin’, pretty girl.”
“I’ll play with you all I like, cowboy.”
“Oh yeah?” I mirror her movements and glide my hand higher. “Fuck,” I say when I discover she’s not wearing a bra. Her breast is the perfect handful, achingly soft. She makes that delicious little sound when I thumb her nipple, drawing it to a taut point. “ Fuck. ”
She leans in to whisper in my ear, “But only if you’ll play with me too.”
Ava don’t have to ask me twice.
Kissing her mouth one last time, I put my free hand on her hip and spin her around. I roughly pull her against me, her back to my front. She lets out a breathless laugh, the sound catching in her throat when I sink my teeth into her neck.
Jesus Christ, I’ve known this woman for all of two hours, and she’s already turning me into a fucking vampire. She doesn’t seem to mind, though. She reaches back and digs her fingers into my hair again, just how I like.
She paying attention too?
She want this to be good for me too?
I wonder if that’s what makes our attraction so intense—the fact that it’s ardently, unequivocally reciprocated. It feels like lightning. We’re not hooking up because we’re bored and it’s convenient.
We’re on fire, and the only way to put it out is to surrender to the wildness between us.
This.
This is what’s been missing.
Pulse hammering, I glide both hands inside her shirt and cup her tits. I play with them, kneading their softness, thumbing her nipples. Ava arches her back, burying her ass inside the cradle of my hips.
My dick surges. I work my mouth up her neck. Back down, stopping to press a lingering kiss on the place where her throat slopes into her shoulder.
“Oh, Sawyer,” she breathes. “I like that.”
“You smell like heaven.”
She’s smiling. “It’s the beer. And the sweat.”
“Apparently”—I rock my hips, pressing my dick into the small of her back—“I dig the combination.”
Reaching back, she cups me through my jeans. “You’re kidding.”
“Not one fucking bit.”
“I’m talking about this .” She moves her palm up my length. “You’re hot. You can dance. And you have a big dick?”
My turn to laugh as I scrape my stubble against her throat, giving her nipples a quick, hard pinch. “I didn’t see any lube downstairs. I can look for some?—”
“Don’t. I’m … yeah, I’m definitely not gonna need it.”
“Really?”
She scoffs. “Really.”
“Show me.”
She turns her head and glances at me over her shoulder. “Okay.”
I bite back a curse when she takes my right hand and guides it down. Eyes locked on mine the whole time. When we hit the fly of her jeans, she presses my fingers against the button. I take the hint and work it through its hole. Her zipper moves south as she pushes our hands inside.
Her green eyes go a little hazy when, together, we move our hands inside her panties. I feel the wiry warmth of her pubic hair before she guides our hands even lower. I don’t wait for her to guide me here. I can’t. I use my first and third fingers to part her. I can already feel her heat. Then I gently guide my middle finger inside.
She. Is. Soaked .
So swollen and slick that my fingertip glides easily through her arousal. I give her a soft stroke front to back. Back to front, pausing to circle her clit.
Her whole body jerks. “Oh, yes. Yes .”
The oxygen in the room must evaporate, because suddenly I can’t breathe. “For me. This is?—”
“All for you.” Her eyes bore into mine, all earnestness. “C’mon, Sawyer, I told you you were hot.”
I puff out my chest a little, knowing I have that kind of power. Me, the guy who twenty-four hours ago couldn’t beg, borrow, or steal his way into convincing his three-year-old to get dressed for school.
Me, the guy who hasn’t felt wanted like this in … a long-ass time.
Me.
I don’t think. I don’t hesitate.
I just give her clit one last stroke of my fingertip and say, “Arms up,” and then I’m pulling off Ava’s shirt, tossing it onto the nearby couch. I make a mental note to soak it in the sink later. That fucking stain is gonna bug me until I get it out.
Grabbing the open bottle of champagne, I spin Ava back around to face me with my other hand. “Now open your mouth.”
Her eyes flick from the bottle down to my dick and back up again. “What are you gonna put in it, cowboy?”
“Oh, you best believe you’ll be tasting this, too.” I take her hand and crudely press it to my cock. “But first, we got a bottle to finish. Open that fucking mouth, Ava.”
Running her tongue along her bottom lip, she looks me square in the eye and does as I told her.
“Good girl.” I tip the bottle and pour a little champagne into her mouth. I watch her throat work as she swallows.
She’s good at sucking dick. I just know . She’s gonna swallow me just like this, eyes on fire, smile on her lips.
I’m literally growling as I bring the bottle to my own mouth and take a long pull. I never drink champagne—hell, I hardly drink at all anymore—but I like this shit. It’s cold, crisp. Gives me just enough liquid courage to start backing Ava toward the bedroom.
But then she surprises me by grabbing the bottle out of my hand. Keeping her eyes locked on mine, she grins and pours it over her chest, gasping when the golden liquid hits her skin. It drips down her breasts, gathering in little beads around her nipples.
Can’t help it. I smile. This woman . I love how playful she is. How bold.
“Apparently you’re good at cleaning up messes.” She holds out her arms. “Bet you wanna clean me up, too, don’t you?”
Shaking my head, I bend my neck. Suck one nipple into my mouth, using my tongue to lap up the champagne. “Yes ma’am.” Licking her breast clean, I move to the other. “I do.”
Looking up, I watch her throw her head back and laugh.
“Delicious,” I murmur, nicking her nipple with my teeth. I notice goose bumps are breaking out on her arms and belly. “Lemme warm you up, pretty girl. To bed. Now.”
She takes another sip from the bottle as I straighten. Then she loops an arm around my neck. “Who made you boss?”
“You like it.” It comes out less a question, more a statement.
She pulls me in for a messy kiss, the champagne mingling between our mouths. I can feel her smile against my lips.
“Yes sir, I do.”
I kiss her back, licking into her mouth. If laughter had a taste, this would be it.
Then there’s the flawless delivery of her clever line.
The feel of her bare tits pressed to my chest.
The thrill of having the whole suite—the whole night—to ourselves.
If there’s a heaven, this. Is. It.
Her playfulness must rub off on me, because next thing I know I’m bending down. I’m scooping her into my arms, delighted at the happy yell she lets out, and I suck on her neck while I walk the five steps to the bedroom.
My mind races. What do I do first? Eat her pussy? Use my fingers to make her come? Edge her, then make her shatter on my dick? Put my dick in her mouth? She seemed to be into that idea.
And then I remember we really do have all night. No need to rush. The relief I feel at being able to take my time for once is real. Back home, I’m always running from one task or appointment or crisis to another.
Here, I can go slow.
I set her down on the bed carefully so she doesn’t spill the champagne. I don’t know what I wanna do first. All I know is, I gotta get her naked.
She’s sitting up. Sipping the champagne. Smiling at me as she licks her lips. The skin on her neck and tits is already red from my mouth and stubble.
Now that I can really see her body, I know she’s an athlete. Her arms are toned. So’s her belly. Her thighs fill out her jeans just right.
And yeah, I can’t wait to bite that juicy ass.
Leaning down, I lift one of her legs and tug off her boot. When I drop the boot to the floor, my chest twists when I see that it’s a Lucchese. Same brand my adopted father figure Garrett Luck wore before he passed last year. My older brother Cash inherited Garrett’s favorite pair, and it’s all he wears these days.
“You got good taste,” I say, removing her other boot.
The camel-colored leather is worn but well cared for. She’s been able to wear these for a while because she clearly takes good care of them.
That idea also makes my chest twist.
“Thanks. My parents gave them to me for my eighteenth birthday. I think I’ve worn them almost every day since.”
I take off her socks. Then I hook my fingers into her jeans and panties and pull, working them down the long, lean expanse of her legs.
Ava laughs when I literally growl. Not sure that’s a sound I’ve ever made before.
Then again, I’ve never seen these fucking legs before. Her thighs flex as she lifts them to help me take off her pants, creating a soft valley between the bone and muscle on the sides of her legs.
I notice she has a tiny tattoo on her left ankle. Looks like some kind of heart? Two hearts, maybe. Wonder what it means.
“Wow.” It’s the only word I can manage. Dropping her jeans and panties to the floor, I lift one leg and press a kiss first to the inside of her knee, then to the outside of her thigh in that sweet little valley. “You got some legs on you, pretty girl. These thighs”—I kiss my way north, silently cursing at the gorgeous view I have of her pussy—“bet they’ll look mighty fine wrapped around me, yeah?”
“Yeah.” Ava’s eyes flash. Bringing the bottle to her mouth, she takes a long sip before holding the bottle out to me. “Show me, cowboy. I wanna see.”