13. Ava
13
AVA
L iam's fingers are still inside me, deep, curling, relentless.
His name is a broken moan on my lips, my thighs trembling as he keeps me pinned to the dresser, his other hand gripping my hip, holding me right where he wants me.
Where I want to be.
He watches me like he's memorizing every reaction, every gasp, every shudder.
I should feel exposed, laid bare, but all I feel is wanted. Claimed. Consumed.
"More," I gasp, my hands clutching at his shoulders.
He groans, dragging his fingers out of me slowly, so slow it's torture, then pushing them back in deep, stretching me, teasing me.
"You're so fucking wet, Ava," he rasps, his breath hot against my throat. "You feel this? How ready you are for me?"
I can't even answer.
I can only whimper, roll my hips into his hand, chase the pleasure he's feeding me.
He pulls his fingers out completely, and I almost sob at the loss.
But then his hands are on my hips, flipping me over, pressing my chest against the dresser's cool surface.
I gasp, my pulse pounding, my entire body thrumming with need.
His hands skim up my sides, teasing, exploring, before sliding back down to grip my ass.
"Look at you, baby." His voice is dark, full of heat. "Bent over, desperate, waiting for me to take you."
I whimper, pressing back against him, feeling the hard length of his cock through his slacks.
He groans, grinding against me, letting me feel just how wrecked he is.
"You want me, Ava?"
I nod frantically, pushing back against him, aching, needing.
"Say it." His fingers skim between my thighs again, teasing me, brushing over my swollen clit.
"I want you, Liam." My voice is breathless. "Please."
I hear the sound of his belt unbuckling, the rustle of fabric, the sharp exhale as he frees himself.
Then his cock slides between my slick folds, teasing, torturous.
I moan, arching against him, trying to push back, trying to take him inside me.
He chuckles, gripping my hips harder, holding me still.
"So impatient, baby."
"Liam, please," I gasp.
That does it.
With one slow, devastating thrust, he pushes inside me, stretching me, filling me completely.
I cry out, my fingers scrambling for something to hold onto as he buries himself to the hilt.
"Fuck, Ava." His voice is rough, his grip tightening. "You feel so fucking good."
He stays still for a moment, like he's trying to hold on to the last thread of his control.
I don't want him to.
I need all of him.
"Move, Liam." My voice is a plea, a demand.
He growls, pulling out just enough to make me feel empty before slamming back inside me, hard and deep.
I scream his name, my entire body clenching around him.
And then he fucks me.
Fast, deep, punishing.
His hips slamming into mine, his hands gripping my waist like he'll never let me go.
I moan helplessly, lost in the feeling of him stretching me, owning me.
"You take me so fucking well, baby," he groans, his voice full of dark approval.
I shudder, pushing back against him, matching his rhythm, chasing that edge.
One of his hands leaves my hip, sliding around to my front, his fingers finding my clit.
I gasp, arching against him as he rubs tight, ruthless circles, making my vision go white.
"Liam—"
"Come for me, Ava," he commands, his thrusts turning erratic, desperate.
That's all it takes.
I shatter, pleasure ripping through me, my body locking up, my walls clenching around him.
He groans, his grip bruising, his rhythm faltering.
"Fuck, Ava."
His hands are everywhere, gripping, teasing, demanding. I sigh, expecting him to slow down. But God, I'm wrong. I've never been more wrong.
He moves like a man who's been holding back for too long and is finally claiming what's his. And maybe he has been.
Maybe I have too.
I don't care.
Because right now, he's deep inside me, stretching me open, owning every part of me, and I never want him to stop.
His fingers press into my hips, his grip firm as he thrusts into me, slow at first, dragging it out, making me feel every inch of him.
"You feel that, baby?" His voice is a rough growl in my ear. "How fucking tight you are for me?"
I moan, unable to do anything but take it, to let him fill me over and over.
He leans in, his mouth grazing the shell of my ear.
"You were made for this, weren't you?" His thrusts get deeper, sharper, hitting exactly where I need him.
I whimper, my fingers scrabbling against the dresser, searching for something to hold onto.
But he's the only thing grounding me.
The only thing keeping me from coming apart completely.
Liam must sense it, must feel the way my body is already trembling from how well he's fucking me.
He reaches around, his fingers slipping between my thighs, teasing my clit in slow, torturous circles.
"You're dripping for me, Ava." His tone is dark, satisfied. "You like this, being bent over and fucked like you're mine."
I gasp, pushing back against him, chasing that heat pooling deep in my belly.
I shouldn't love this as much as I do. But I do. God, I do.
I let out a strangled moan, my back arching, my head tilting back against his shoulder.
He groans, his pace turning rough, desperate.
"Tell me how much you need me, baby."
I shudder, completely lost in him, in this.
"I need you, Liam." My voice is a reed-thin whisper.
He lets out a low curse, his fingers tightening around my waist.
Then he pulls out of me entirely.
I gasp at the loss, my body clenching around nothing, desperate, empty.
I barely have time to protest before he spins me around, lifts me effortlessly, and places me on the dresser.
His hands grip my thighs, spreading me open for him.
I should feel exposed, vulnerable.
But the way he looks at me—like I'm the only thing that exists in this moment—makes me feel like I'm the one in control.
He slides his hands up my legs, slow, teasing, until he's gripping my hips, holding me in place.
Then he lowers himself between my thighs.
I barely have time to process before his mouth is on me.
I scream his name, my head falling back, my fingers diving into his hair.
His tongue is sin.
He licks me deeply, slowly, dragging his tongue through my slick folds before flicking my clit, making me jerk in his grasp.
"Liam."
He groans against me, his grip tightening, holding me in place as he devours me.
I shake, my thighs trembling, my breath coming in short, ragged gasps.
He's ruthless.
His tongue teases, licks, sucks, his fingers digging into my thighs as if he's trying to anchor himself there.
Like he can't get enough.
Like he wants to ruin me with his mouth.
And fuck, he's succeeding.
He hums against me, the vibration sending a new wave of heat pulsing through me.
"You taste so fucking good, Ava." His voice is muffled, but I hear the hunger in it. The need.
I moan, my hips lifting, grinding against his tongue.
I don't even care how desperate I am.
I need this.
I need him.
He groans like he loves it, like he loves that I'm coming undone for him.
Then he wraps his lips around my clit and sucks.
Everything inside me shatters.
I cry out, my whole body tensing, my orgasm ripping through me like a shockwave.
Liam doesn't stop.
He licks me through it, dragging it out, prolonging the pleasure until I'm trembling, whimpering, too sensitive to take any more.
Only then does he finally pull away, his lips glistening, his eyes dark and hooded.
He drags the back of his hand across his mouth, smirking.
"I'm not done with you yet, baby."
And then he's lifting me again, carrying me toward the bed, his mouth crashing against mine.
I moan into him, tasting myself on his lips, on his tongue—salty, slick, sinful.
It should feel filthy.
It does.
But the way he kisses me, deep and possessive, like he needs me more than air, like he wants to drown in me— makes it the sexiest fucking thing I've ever felt.
I grip the back of his head, pulling him closer, pressing my body flush against his as his tongue sweeps over mine, demanding, taking.
"Fuck, baby," he groans against my lips, his voice raw. "You taste so fucking good."
I whimper, shivering as he licks into me again, forcing me to taste what he just did to me.
It makes me wild.
I wrap my legs around his waist, pressing my heels into his back, trying to pull him down on top of me, trying to get more of him.
Liam chuckles, dark and knowing.
"Impatient, aren't you?"
"You're torturing me," I pant, arching against him, desperate for more.
He smirks, his teeth grazing my jaw, nipping at my skin, his breath hot against my ear.
"You love it."
I whimper, my nails digging into his shoulders.
And then he's moving again.
He grips my thighs, hoisting me higher against his chest, carrying me toward the bed like I weigh nothing.
I clutch at him, desperate, breathless, pressing frantic kisses against his jaw, his throat, tasting the salt of his skin.
Then my back hits the mattress.
Liam hovers over me, his body a wall of heat, of muscle, his eyes burning with dark hunger.
He drags a hand down my stomach, between my thighs, cupping me, feeling how wet I still am for him.
"Fuck, Ava." His voice is husky, almost reverent. "I could spend all fucking night between your legs."
I shiver, my breath hitching. "Then do it."
He lets out a rough groan, shaking his head.
"Not this time, baby." His cock presses against my entrance, heavy, throbbing.
"This time, I'm going to fuck you so good you won't be able to walk tomorrow."
I gasp, heat pooling low in my stomach, every inch of me burning for him.
"Then what the fuck are you waiting for?" I challenge, my fingers curling around the back of his neck, pulling him down to me.
Liam grins against my lips, sharp, hungry.
Then he slams into me.
I scream.
Not from pain.
From pure, blinding pleasure.
He fills me to the hilt, stretching me, owning me completely, making me feel so fucking full.
"Fuck, you're tight." His voice is strained, raw, his fingers digging into my hips.
I moan, arching against him, my nails raking down his back, urging him to move.
He pulls out almost completely, just the head of his cock inside me, teasing, torturing.
Then he thrusts back in hard, burying himself deep.
I cry out, my head falling back, my body clenching around him.
And then he sets a brutal rhythm.
Deep. Hard. Devastating.
His hands grip my thighs, spreading me wider, opening me up so he can fuck me even deeper.
I sob his name, my hands fisting the sheets, the pleasure slamming into me over and over.
"You love this, don't you?" he growls, his hips snapping against mine, his cock hitting that perfect spot inside me every time.
I nod frantically, unable to speak, too lost in the feeling of him wrecking me.
He leans down, biting my lower lip, swallowing my moans.
Then his fingers find my clit, rubbing fast, tight circles.
I scream, arching into him, my whole body shattering.
"Come for me, baby." His voice is dark, urgent. "Come all over my cock."
I break.
Pleasure slams into me, my vision going white, my body locking up as I come hard around him.
Liam groans, his rhythm faltering, his thrusts turning erratic.
Then he buries himself deep, his cock throbbing, his jaw clenching as he spills inside me.
For a moment, we just breathe.
Liam collapses onto his forearms, his face buried against my neck, both of us shaking, gasping, completely fucking wrecked.
I feel his heart pounding against mine, his breath hot against my skin.
His lips brush over my jaw, my cheek, soft now, almost reverent.
And when he finally pulls back to look at me, his eyes aren't just full of lust anymore.
They're full of a reality that's soft and golden, that feels like sunlight spilling from my fingertips.
He brushes his fingers over my cheek, his touch softer now.
The room is still humming with the aftershocks of what just happened.
The sheets are tangled around my legs, the air thick with warmth, the faint scent of Liam's skin wrapped around me like a second blanket. My body is still buzzing, my limbs boneless in the best way, and when I turn my head, he's already watching me.
The bastard is smirking.
I groan, pressing my face into the pillow. "Don't."
"Don't what?" His voice is rough, lazy, like he's never been more comfortable in his life.
I peek at him through one eye. "Don't look so smug."
Liam chuckles, stretching his arms over his head, the muscles in his stomach flexing in a way that is both unfair and distracting. He shifts onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow as he trails a finger down my arm, leaving a slow, teasing path of warmth in its wake.
"Ava," he murmurs, voice low and satisfied, "I just made you scream my name like it was a prayer. I think I'm allowed to be a little smug."
Heat floods my face. I shove at his shoulder, but he doesn't budge. "Shut up."
His laughter rumbles low in his chest, but he pulls me closer, tucking me against him like he has no intention of letting me go anytime soon. His arm drapes over my waist, his fingers skimming the dip of my spine, lazy and slow. I exhale, letting myself sink into it.
This shouldn't feel so good. So natural.
But it does.
Liam presses a kiss to my shoulder, his lips lingering just long enough to make my heart stutter. "Regrets?" he murmurs against my skin.
I hesitate, but only for a second.
"No."
Because how could I regret this?
The way he looked at me. The way he touched me. The way everything about this—about us—felt inevitable.
He exhales softly, like my answer settles something in him. "Good."
I close my eyes, letting exhaustion pull at me. I can feel Liam's steady breathing against my skin, the rise and fall of his chest beneath my palm. His warmth is lulling, his presence steady, and for the first time in a long time, I don't feel like I have to be on guard.
I let out a slow breath. "If you keep touching me like that, I'm going to fall asleep."
Liam chuckles, his fingers still tracing absentminded patterns along my back. "That's the plan, Bennett."
I barely manage a reply before sleep drags me under.
* * *
I wake up tangled in him.
The morning light is filtering through the curtains, casting a soft glow over everything. Liam's arm is wrapped around my waist, his body warm against mine, his breathing slow and even.
And me?
I'm panicking.
Because last night was supposed to be a mistake. A very enjoyable, mind-blowing, earth-shattering mistake, but a mistake, nonetheless.
Except… it doesn't feel like one.
I bite my lip, staring at the ceiling, my mind racing.
This was never supposed to happen. We were supposed to be pretending, keeping each other at a distance, using this arrangement to handle Vanessa and the threats without actually getting involved.
But last night wasn't pretend. It was incredibly real. I swallow, my throat suddenly dry, and carefully—so, so carefully—I try to shift away from him.
Liam makes a low sound, somewhere between a sigh and a hum, and tightens his hold on me.
"Where do you think you're going?" His voice is rough with sleep, his lips brushing against my shoulder as he speaks.
"Nowhere," I lie, because there's no way in hell I'm admitting that I was seconds away from running out of my own bed like a coward.
His arm flexes, pulling me even closer, and I swear, the man is a damn furnace. "Good," he murmurs, pressing a lazy kiss to my temple. "Because I wasn't done sleeping."
And just like that, my heart does something stupid.
Before I can figure out how to respond—before I can even start processing the way my body melts at the weight of him around me—his phone buzzes from the nightstand.
Liam groans, dragging a hand over his face. "Who the hell?—"
Another buzz.
He sighs, rolling over just enough to grab the phone, squinting at the screen. The second he sees who it is, his expression sharpens.
Tyler.
I prop myself up on my elbow as he answers. "Yeah?"
A pause.
Liam swings his legs off the bed, rubbing his jaw as he listens. His entire posture shifts, his easy, sleep-heavy energy replaced by something tense, something sharp.
"Are you sure?" he asks, voice low.
I sit up fully, watching him. "What's going on?"
Liam's gaze flickers to mine, something unreadable in his expression. Then he nods once and ends the call.
"Tyler thinks the trap could work," he says, tossing the phone onto the nightstand. "But there's something we need to do for it to work."
Of course there is.
I raise an eyebrow. "What's that?"
He exhales. "We have to go to a gala."
I blink. "Excuse me?"
"Charity event. North Hill." He runs a hand through his hair. "One of the most exclusive events in the city."
I stare at him. "And how, exactly, is this supposed to help us?"
Liam frowns at me. "Because our mystery texter won't be able to resist."
I shake my head. "I don't?—"
He leans in, his voice dropping. "If they're watching us, they'll want to know what we're up to. A high-profile event? That's their best chance to see us in action. To overhear something. To get close." His eyes darken. "And that's when we catch them."
I exhale, my brain already running through the logistics. I don't love it. I don't trust it. But… he's not wrong.
This could be our best shot.
"Fine," I say slowly. "But I swear, if I have to spend another night in stilettos, I'm blaming you."
Liam smirks. "I'll make it worth your while, Bennett."
Before I can respond—before I can even begin to process the heat in his voice—he turns, walks to the dresser, and pulls something small from his jacket pocket.
Then he hands it to me.
I look down—and my breath catches.
My bracelet.
My mother's bracelet. The one that was stolen weeks ago.
I swallow, my throat suddenly tight. "How did you…?"
Liam shrugs, but there's something softer in his expression. "Tracked it down. Some pawnshop across town." He rubs the back of his neck. "Figured you might want it back."
A slow warmth spreads through my chest, knocking the air from my lungs.
Because this?
This means something.
I curl my fingers around the bracelet, my pulse skittering. Liam Carter just gave me back a piece of my mother.