28. KAI
KAI
Cheap Shot
I've been pacing a few feet from the door handle since Ava said she was coming.
When I see Biscuit's nose pushing against the gap at the bottom, her whine cutting through the silence, I'm already moving. Already reaching for the handle before the sound finishes registering.
The door swings open.
Ava stands in my hallway wearing my hoodie, the sleeves bunched past her knuckles, her hair loose around her shoulders. Her eyes are swollen, lips bitten raw. Her hair is loose around her shoulders.
Biscuit pushes past her ankles and trots inside like she owns the place.
Ava doesn't move.
"You blocked my number," I say.
"Lucy blocked your number." Her voice is scraped thin. "She took my phone while I was on my bathroom floor after you hung up on me."
"Your sister decided I don't get to talk to you?"
"Yes."
"And you didn't check?"
"I didn't know there was anything to check, Kai. You hung up. The next morning my phone was where I left it. I had no reason to look at my blocked list because I've never blocked anyone in my life."
"Four days." My hand is gripping the door frame. The wood bites into my palm. "I drove past your street twice. I sat in Theo's kitchen borrowing his phone like a teenager who lost his girlfriend's number."
"You think I had it better?" Her chin lifts just as her lips tremble. “I missed you.”
The anger drains out of me like water through a cracked pipe. What's left is the bone-deep, hollow ache of a man who thought he'd lost the one person keeping him upright.
I reach for the front of my hoodie on her body, close my fist in the fabric, and pull her inside.
She's against my chest before the latch clicks, her fingers gripping the back of my shirt hard enough to twist the cotton, her face buried in the space between my neck and shoulder.
Her whole body shudders, one long continuous tremor from her shoulders down through her hips, and I feel the heat of her breath spilling hot and uneven against my skin.
Four days of nothing and now this—her weight, her smell, the way her thighs press against mine like she’s trying to climb inside me.
"Four days," she says into my neck, voice raw. “I wanted you and couldn’t do anything about it. I touched myself thinking about your mouth and it wasn’t enough. I needed this.”
My hand slides into her hair, fisting the soft strands, while my other arm locks around her waist and hauls her tighter.
She presses closer and the warmth of her body soaks through every layer between us until my cock is already thick and heavy, straining against the front of my sweats. I can feel the soft give of her stomach, the new fullness of her breasts crushed to my chest.
“I thought I lost you,” I murmur against her temple, the words scraped out from somewhere deep in my chest.
She lifts her head, her eyes dark and shimmering with unshed tears. “You didn’t. I’m right here.” A sudden shift ripples across her expression. “And there’s something I need to tell you.”
I still instantly. I knew she was hiding something, carrying a weight she hadn't shared. “What is it?”
She hesitates, her gaze searching mine before she shakes her head. “After. I promise.”
“Ava—”
“After.” Her fingers dig into my shirt, pulling me down. “Right now, I just need you.”
She rolls her hips forward, grinding slow and deliberate against the hard ridge between my thighs. Every question left in my head instantly burns to ash.
My hand drops from her hair to the small of her back, then lower, cupping the full curve of her ass and pulling her harder against me. She looks at me with eyes that have gone almost black.
“I don’t want you to be gentle.” Her voice has dropped low. “I want you to fuck me with everything you’ve got. I want to feel you for days.”
I pause, searching her face.
Is this another “just bodies fucking without any emotions” episode?
But before I open my mouth to speak. She moves closer, hips rolling in a slow circle that makes my cock throb.
“And I will give you everything I’ve got,” she whispers. “Every wet, aching part of me. No holding back.”
Every nerve in my body lights up. I’ve been careful with Ava in bed while dreaming of a night exactly like this with both of us stripped raw, emotionally present, fucking like the world is ending.
“Are you sure?” I palm her ass hard, fingers digging into the soft flesh, and pull her flush against the thick length of me. “You want us wild tonight? You want me to wreck you?”
“Yes.” Her voice has turned sultry, alluring, dripping with need. “Bury your cock deep inside me. Stretch me open. Make me take every inch until I can’t think.”
“Can you take it?”
She laughs, low and dark, the sound vibrating against my chest.
“I should be asking you that question. I’m so wet already it’s soaking through my shorts. Feel.”
She grabs my wrist and shoves my hand between her thighs. The thin fabric is damp, hot, clinging to the swollen lips of her pussy. I press two fingers against her and feel the slick heat even through the cloth. She moans, hips rocking into my hand.
My eyes narrow. “Challenge accepted.”
When she kisses me it’s not gentle.
Four days of starvation have burned gentle out of both of us. Her teeth catch my lower lip and bite down hard enough to sting. I make a sound that vibrates between our mouths and her tongue surges in, wet and demanding.
The taste of her floods me: coffee and salt and pure want. I kiss her back like I’m starving, sucking her tongue, biting her lip in return until she whimpers into my mouth.
My hands slide down her sides, mapping every curve.
My thumbs slip beneath the hoodie and dig into the soft skin there. Something low in my stomach tightens hard. I can already picture my hands leaving marks on her.
"Take this off," I say against her mouth, my voice rough as I tug at the hoodie. "I need to see every inch of you. Need to put my mouth on every one of these curves."
She pulls it over her head in one frantic motion. Underneath she’s wearing a thin white tank top, no bra. Her breasts are round and heavy, straining the fabric so the hard peaks of her nipples are clearly outlined. I can see the darker circles of her nipples through the cotton.
I cup one through the shirt, squeezing the full weight of it. She inhales sharply, her whole body leaning into my hand like she’s starving for the pressure.
“Sensitive,” she whispers, already sounding wrecked. “Fuck, Kai, they’re so sensitive.”
“Good sensitive?”
I roll the nipple between my thumb and finger through the fabric, watching her face.
“So good it’s almost too much. Pinch harder.”
I do.
She moans, low and unguarded, her head tipping back so the long line of her throat is exposed.
I lean in and bite the side of her neck while my other hand finds her second breast, palming it, squeezing, feeling the heavy warmth of it. I pull the tank over her head and her breasts spill into my hands, warm and full and swollen, the nipples tight and dark and begging.
I groan at the sight of her half-naked in my living room, flushed and already trembling.
“Look at these,” I murmur, lifting them, thumbs brushing over the peaks. “Fucking perfect. So full. I could come just from playing with them.”
Her hands find my chest. She runs her palms across my pecs, fingers tracing the hard lines between the muscles, dragging down across my ribs.
Her touch is slow and deliberate, mapping every inch.
“I missed your body,” she says, voice thick.
Her nails rake lightly down my stomach and the muscles tremble under her fingertips. “I missed the way you feel under my hands. The way your cock jumps when I touch you. I miss how hard you get for me.”
Her fingers reach my waistband. She traces the dark line of hair below my navel, her touch featherlight, teasing, circling lower until her fingertips dip under the elastic and pull back.
“Ava.” My voice is a warning.
“Hmm?” She looks up at me through her lashes, wicked.
“Stop teasing or I’m going to bend you over this couch and fuck you until you scream.”
“I’m not teasing. I’m reminding myself how thick you are, how much I want to feel this stretching me open.”
Her hand slides flat down my lower stomach and presses against the thick ridge of my cock through my sweats.
I’m already so hard it’s almost painful, straining against the fabric. She strokes me slowly, firmly, her grip sure and possessive.
A groan rolls through my chest.
Her free hand slides under my shirt, pushes it up. I yank it off and throw it aside.
Her mouth lands on my collarbone, sucking, gentle at first, then harder, teeth scraping, and the sharp sting sends a current of pure heat straight down to where her hand is working me.
She leaves a dark mark and moves lower, licking over my nipple, biting lightly.
“You’re so hard already,” she murmurs against my skin. “I can feel you throbbing in my hand. You want to be inside of me that bad?”
“Yes.” The word is guttural.
Her fingers slip inside the waistband. Skin on skin. She wraps her fist around me, warm and tight, and strokes from base to tip in one long, slow pull, thumbing over the wet head.
My hips buck forward hard. My hands grip her waist, my thumbs pressing into the soft flesh there. I have no idea if Ava was always this curvy.
But fuck, I like it.
I definitely fucking like it.
“I want to touch you,” I say, voice strained. My hand slides between her thighs again, cupping her through the shorts. “I want to feel how wet you are for me.”
She catches my wrist, eyes dark and certain.
“No, not yet. I don’t want your fingers first. I want you to split me open with your cock. But I need to taste you first, to feel you on my tongue.”
She drops to her knees right there in the living room, yanking my sweats and underwear down in one motion. My cock springs free, thick and flushed and leaking. She looks up at me, lips parted.
She leans in and drags the flat of her tongue from base to tip in one long, wet stroke, then swirls around the head, tasting the precum already beading there.
My hand flies to her hair. “Fuck!”