Chapter 26 Knox
KNOX
Ava’s bedroom door is cracked when I arrive, and the soft glow of her bedside lamp spills out into the hall. I thought I was seeing things when her text popped up on my phone, but I wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.
Do I feel guilty that she cut her night out short? Yes, but I’m thrilled to spend time with her.
If that makes me an asshole, so be it.
I push the bedroom door open, and ho-ly fuck.
Ava is stretched out on the bed wearing her Beach Olympics medal and nothing else.
My cock swells, growing painfully hard as I drink her in, memorizing every dip and swell from the tips of her bright pink toenails to the dark curls that are spread out over the pillows.
I don’t know what I did to deserve Ava, but I’ll never take her—or these private moments—for granted.
“Hey, birthday girl.”
“Hey yourself.”
She grins, and there’s a softness to her features that has my inner-caveman desperately screaming mine.
I drop my bag and peel off my shirt, tossing it on the floor as I cross to the bed. “Nice medal.”
“This old thing?” She lifts it from her bare breasts and inspects it. “You wouldn’t believe what I had to do to earn it.”
I chuckle. “It could’ve been worse. You could’ve ended up with a flamingo tattooed on your ass.”
She drops the medal. “True, but I would have made it look good.”
“You make everything look good.” I shove my joggers down, freeing my cock. It’s long and thick, and I fist myself, letting her see exactly what she does to me.
Her eyes go wide and she licks her lips, her tongue gliding over the soft pink flesh.
“You like that?” I give myself a slow pump that has my balls tightening.
She nods, eyes glazing over as I do it again.
I repeat the motion a third time, groaning at the ripple of pleasure, and she climbs to her knees, face eager.
I’m desperate to be inside her, but if she likes watching, I’ll be damned if I’m going to deny her.
Turning to the nightstand, I grab a lemon-shaped toy and apply a liberal amount of lube. Then I squirt some into my palm.
“Here’s what we’re going to do,” I say, handing her the toy.
“I’m going to jack myself off, and when I come, I’m going to come all over these pretty little tits of yours.
” I caress them with my free hand, savoring the weight of her full breasts before I skim my fingers over her rosy nipples.
“But you know the rules; I don’t come until you do. ”
“I think I’m going to like this game.” She presses the power button on the toy, and it buzzes to life, the quiet vibrations filling the room.
I watch as she slips it between her legs, positioning it just over her clit. She whimpers on contact, and her teeth sink into her lower lip.
“Fuuuck, that’s hot.”
She arches a brow and looks pointedly at my cock. “Should I stop?”
“Nah, darlin’. We’re just getting started.”
I begin to jack myself with a slow, steady rhythm, letting the tension build as Ava does the same. She bought that toy because it practically guaranteed a thirty-second orgasm, but my girl never comes fast and I fucking love it.
“You look so pretty when you’re playing with your pussy.”
She moans, gently rocking the toy as she chases release. Her breath quickens, and the quiet buzz of the lemon is nearly drowned out by her ragged breathing.
“I like it when you watch me,” she rasps, squeezing her breast with her free hand.
“That’s it, darlin’. Touch yourself.” I increase my pace, my fist sliding up and down my shaft with practiced ease. “Tell me how it feels.”
“It feels…good. So good.” Her eyes drift closed, and she tips her head back, as if praying to the stars above.
“Look at me, Ava. I want to see those beautiful brown eyes when you come.”
She complies, and when our eyes meet, the raw desire in her gaze nearly undoes me. If I’m not careful, I’m going to break my own damn rule and come first.
I slow my strokes, trying to focus on her and not the mounting pressure in my balls.
“You’re so fucking beautiful like this,” I tell her, voice strained. “Kneeling before me, touching yourself, wearing nothing but that medal. Do you have any idea what you do to me?”
“Show me,” she whispers, rolling her nipple between her fingers.
I tighten my grip, pumping faster, letting her see just how much she affects me. How feral she makes me.
Outside this bedroom, I’m always in control. The go-to guy. Captain Clutch.
But here, with Ava? I can let go.
Precum beads at the head of my cock, and I collect it with the pad of my thumb. As if reading my thoughts, her lips part. She sucks the digit clean, her tongue swirling around the base in a way that leaves me weak in the knees.
Ava’s movements become more urgent, her hips rocking in concert with the toy. The sounds she makes—those sexy little whimpers—drive me wild.
“That’s my girl. My lucky charm. You’re getting close, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” she pants. “So close.”
“Come for me, darlin’. I want to see you fall apart just for me.”
Her back arches, and a satisfied cry erupts from her throat as she shatters. Her entire body trembles from the force of it, and the sight of her lost in pleasure is the sexiest damn thing I’ve ever seen.
I let myself go, desperate to join her. My hand flies over my cock, the tension at the base of my spine coiling tighter and tighter until it finally snaps, a rubber band stretched beyond its limits.
“Fuck, Ava—”
The orgasm rips through me, my entire body shuddering as I spray hot cum across her chest. Rope after rope lands on her breasts, and she watches with wide-eyed delight, seemingly transfixed by the mess I’ve made.
“You look like a goddess wearing my necklace,” I rasp, stroking myself through the aftershocks.
She looks up at me from under her lashes and gives me a demure smile as she spreads my cum all over her breasts.
Un-fucking-believable.
This woman is un-fucking-believable, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
I cup her face and kiss her, hard and deep. My tongue sweeps into her mouth, and she responds with equal fervor, her messy hands coming up to grip my shoulders.
I can’t lose this. Can’t lose her.
I want to celebrate every birthday, every milestone, every boring Monday night with Ava.
The realization hits me like a body blow, and I pour everything I’m feeling into the kiss. Devotion. Longing. The desperate need to make her understand that what we have is real.
When we finally come up for air, I rest my forehead against hers. “Stay put.”
I head to the bathroom and return with a warm washcloth. I take my time, gently cleaning every precious inch of her, and when I’m done, I lean down and plant a tender kiss on each perfect breast.
Ava sighs and runs her fingers through my hair, her nails scraping deliciously over my scalp. “Best birthday ever.”
Pride floods my chest, and I straighten. “How about some cake?”
Her eyes light up. “We can have cake in bed?”
I chuckle. “Birthday rules. You want cake in bed, you get cake in bed.”
Hell, she can have cake in bed every day if it makes her happy.
She grins. “Yes, please.”
I jog downstairs and grab the cake, along with a plate, utensils, and a lighter I find in the kitchen drawer. When I return, Ava’s pulled the sheet up to cover herself. She looks sleepy, sated, and absolutely stunning.
I set the cake on the nightstand and light the single white candle. “Make a wish, birthday girl.”
She closes her eyes, a smile playing across her lips, and blows out the flame.
“What did you wish for?” I ask as I cut a generous slice of cake for us to share.
“If I tell you, it won’t come true,” she replies in a singsong voice.
I shoot her a dark look. “Now who’s superstitious?”
She laughs as I transfer the cake to a plate and climb into bed beside her.
“That looks really good.” She curls up next to me, resting her hand on my biceps. “Thank you for making me a birthday cake. I know it couldn’t have been easy with your schedule.”
“Darlin’, I will always make time for you.” I scoop up a forkful of cake and raise it to her lips. “Now be a good girl and open wide.”
“I can feed myself,” she protests, amusement dancing in her eyes.
“It’s your birthday. You shouldn’t have to.” I grin. “Besides, I love spoiling you.”
She opens her mouth, and I slide the fork in. The moment the cake hits her tongue, her eyes roll back in her head.
“Oh my god. This is divine.” She swallows, and her face softens. “Is this one of your mother’s recipes?”
“No.” I shake my head and slice off another bite. “She made a lot of cakes, but never strawberry. Not that I can remember, anyway.”
Probably because chocolate was my favorite. She had a half-dozen chocolate cake recipes, each one with a special twist.
Ava’s brows knit together. “Then where did you get the recipe? There’s no way this came from a baking mix.”
Smart woman. I’d chew off my right arm before I’d serve her a boxed cake mix on her birthday.
Scratch baking is personal. It’s about more than flavors and textures. It’s about the effort that goes into nourishing the people you care about.
“The recipe is actually one of my own.” I raise the fork, and she opens her mouth. “It took a few tries to get it right, but it was worth it just to see the smile on your face.”
What I don’t tell her is that McGinnis has been riding my ass about it all week, peppering me with a thousand stupid questions because he has to know every damn thing.
The rookie and I have been getting along much better since we started playing on the same line, but he still has his moments.
“That’s—thank you. No one has ever done anything like that for me before.” Unshed tears glisten in Ava’s eyes. “How can you possibly be single when you’re so freaking perfect? Surely you’ve had at least one long-term relationship.”
I shift uncomfortably. This isn’t really something I want to talk about, especially on her birthday, but I can’t lie to her. I set the plate in my lap and take her hand.