Chapter 9
Chapter nine
Elijah
I can’t stop staring at her.
Even as we leave the shop and head to dinner, hand in hand, there’s this quiet awe buzzing beneath my skin. She said yes. Maybe not forever—yet—but to now. To us. And after waiting for so long, that yes means everything.
We find a cozy little Italian place not far from the shop.
She orders pasta, her usual comfort food, and I don’t miss the way her shoulders slowly drop as the night unfolds.
Her laughter is softer, easier, like something inside her finally let go.
And damn, I want to bottle that sound and carry it with me everywhere.
“I still can’t believe you waited,” she says suddenly between bites.
I smile over the rim of my glass. “Wasn’t hard, honestly.”
She gives me a look. “Liar.”
“Okay, it sucked,” I admit with a laugh. “But you were always it for me. Even when you didn’t know.”
Her eyes go glossy again, and I reach for her hand across the table, threading our fingers together.
“You don’t have to keep proving yourself, Elijah.”
I shake my head, thumb brushing hers. “I’m not trying to prove anything to you Ava. I’m choosing. And I’ll keep choosing you.”
After dinner, we walk back to her place, our fingers still intertwined like some lifeline neither of us is willing to let go of. When we step inside, she kicks off her shoes, glancing back at me with that familiar smirk that used to haunt my dreams.
“You want tea or… something stronger?”
I close the door behind us and lean against it, watching her move through her space like she finally belongs again. “Honestly? I just want you.”
She stops, blinking like she’s not sure she heard right.
“Not in some heat-of-the-moment kind of way,” I add. “Just… like this. Quiet. Real. You.”
She nods slowly, walking back toward me until her hands rest lightly on my chest. “Then stay. Just… stay with me tonight.” She says it so quietly. No hesitation. No walls. Just Ava. And me. And the promise I made the moment I first saw her again: I’m not going anywhere.
And that’s all it takes.
I nod, gently brushing her cheek with the back of my hand. “I’m right here, baby girl. Not going anywhere.”
We move through her place like it’s muscle memory. She sets her phone on the table, I shrug off my jacket. The silence between us isn’t awkward—it’s full, warm, something I want to live inside forever.
When she curls into me on the couch, her fingers absently tracing patterns over my arm, I feel the shift. The air gets heavier, charged, but not rushed. Never rushed. She lifts her head, searching my eyes.
“Elijah…” She says my name like it means something, like I mean something.
I cup her face, kissing her slowly, like it’s the first time all over again. She melts into me, her hands fisting my shirt, her breath catching as I deepen the kiss. But when I feel her tense just slightly, I pull back, resting my forehead to hers.
“We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for,” I whisper. “I’d wait another four years just to kiss you like that again.”
She lets out a shaky laugh, but there’s a shimmer of tears in her eyes. “I want you, Eli… I’m just nervous”
I kiss her forehead, then her cheeks, her jaw, her lips. “Then let me take care of you. No pressure. No expectations. Just you… feeling good. Feeling safe. If you’re uncomfortable, you tell me and we stop”
She nods her voice nearly a breath. “Okay.” So I take my time.
She looks up at me, eyes wide. “If we do this…” she says, voice barely above a whisper, “you need to know, I’m not perfect. I don’t look like the women you’re probably used to. I’m soft. And awkward. And… ”
I close the space between us and frame her face in my hands.
“Ava.” I say her name like a promise. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
Her breath hitches when I lean in, slow, deliberate, and kiss her. Not a brush. Not a tease. A real kiss. Deep. Hungry. Anchored in all the moments we didn’t let ourselves feel.
She melts into it, hands sliding up my chest, curling into my shirt. Her legs part just slightly, instinctive, inviting me closer. I fit between them like I was made for this exact place, this exact woman. Because we were meant to be.
I guide her gently to the bedroom, never breaking eye contact.
Every kiss is reverent, every touch slow.
I undress her slowly—deliberately—watching her the whole time.
Not letting her hide. Her body is a wonderland of curves and softness that makes my chest ache and my cock rock hard.
I don’t rush it. I take my time. Let her see how I look at her.
When her shirt drops to the floor and she starts to cover herself, I gently pull her hands away.
“No,” I say. “Don’t hide. You’re stunning.”
She’s blushing, but she lets me see her. All of her. Her chest rising and falling fast, lips parted, pupils blown wide.
She does the same for me, fingertips grazing like fire over every place she touches.
When I finally lay her back on the bed, I kiss a slow path from her collarbone to the curve of her stomach, memorizing every inch of her silky skin. She shivers under my mouth.
“Say my name,” I demand softly.
“Elijah…” she breathes, like it’s a prayer.
I kiss her again, harder this time, my hands sliding down her body—tracing the curve of her waist, the swell of her hips. Her body arches into mine like she’s starving for my touch, like she’s been waiting years for someone to want her like this.
“You’re so damn beautiful,” I murmur against her skin as I kiss down her neck, tasting her pulse. “Do you even know what you do to me?”
She gasps when my hands grip her thighs and pull her closer to me. “I don’t—” she starts to say, but I cut her off with a look.
“Let me worship you.”
She exhales shakily, then nods.
I take my time. I learn her body like a map I never want to stop tracing, where she sighs, where she moans, where her voice catches and her thighs tremble. I taste every inch of her delectable body.
“You’re beautiful,” I murmur, pressing kisses over her belly, her thighs. “You deserve to be worshiped like the goddess you are.”
Her hands tangle in my hair, her body arching to meet my lips.
The moment I slide down her body again, I grab the inside of her thighs and open her for me. I can tell she’s trying to close her legs, but I just hold her there, like this, beautifully open for me, she doesn’t resist me.
"We'll stop as soon as you tell me. This doesn't continue if you're not comfortable," I say softly. The smallest of nods from her head gives me the approval I need to worship and venerate the goddess I have laid out for myself.
I don't break eye contact—not once. She needs to see it. All of it. The hunger, the awe, the way I look at her like she’s sacred and mine all at once. Her breath is shaky, but she doesn't look away either. Brave, even in her fear.
“Good girl,” I whisper, my voice wrapped in warmth and steel.
Her thighs part slightly, barely more than a shift, but it’s everything. A silent yes. A gift.
“I’m going to take my time,” I tell her, fingers tracing slowly over the soft curve of her hips. “Not because you need to be eased into this, but because you deserve to be seen. Felt. Worshipped.”
She bites her bottom lip, eyes wide, and I smile against her skin as I kiss the inside of her thigh. She gasps, her body already humming.
“You’re beautiful, Ava,” I murmur between kisses. “Do you feel that when I touch you? When I look at you?”
Her voice is a moan. “I’m starting to.”
“Good,” I say, pressing a kiss just above where she’s aching for me. “Because I’ve never wanted anything—anyone—the way I want you.”
Her body arches instinctively as I slide my hands beneath her, lifting her like she’s both precious and powerful—because she is. I start slowly, placing reverent kisses along the inside of her thighs, soft and lingering. Each one is a silent promise.
I trail higher, over her mound, until I’m face to face with the most breathtaking sight I've ever seen—her. She’s glistening with arousal, slick and ready, and it’s all for me.
Exquisite. Perfect. Mine.
“Fuck, baby… you have the most beautiful pussy I’ve ever seen. And she’s already dripping for me,” I growl, my voice thick with lust as I drag my tongue slowly from her entrance up to her swollen clit. “Is this all for me, baby girl?”
“Y-Yes…” she moans, breathless, as I taste every inch of her.
“You taste so fucking good,” I groan against her, lost in it. “You taste like mine.”
Her flavor floods my senses—it’s addictive, overwhelming. Like a drug sinking into my bloodstream, rewriting me. And if being condemned means having this—her—forever, then I’ll take the fall. I’ll plead guilty to every sin just to keep tasting her like this.
My tongue explores every soft, soaked inch of her.
Her body lifts off the bed with every stroke, every flick.
But I won't stop. I can’t stop.I switch between plunging my tongue inside her and sucking her clit, working her closer to the edge.
Her moans turn to whimpers, and when I know she’s right there, I press a finger into her—slow, careful—curling it to find that perfect spot inside her.
Her cries shatter the air, her body trembling. I focus my mouth on her clit, sucking her relentlessly, and that’s all it takes.
She breaks.
Her body arches, a sharp gasp of my name on her lips as her orgasm crashes over her like a wave.
And God, it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
Ava is stunning in every way, but when she cums… she’s something else entirely.
She 's divine.
When she finally comes down from the high of her orgasm, I trail soft, lingering kisses up her body—slow, unhurried—until I reach her lips.
I kiss her gently, and I know she can taste herself in my mouth.
But she doesn’t flinch. She doesn’t pull away.
She kisses me back like it’s the last kiss we’ll ever share—hungry, open, real.
And God, that alone is enough to undo me.