14. Chapter 14 #2
Ava slides down farther, lips stretched, and then up again, bobbing with a steady, perfect confidence. Her hand squeezes at the base, mouth twisting and pulling, and I have to grip the nearby table beside the bed to keep from coming right then.
She laughs around me when I groan, and the vibration nearly finishes me. I want to engrain this moment into memory because I don’t know if or when it will happen again. To see her like, kneeling on my floor, eyes shining, making a disaster out of my control.
I tug her up, not because I want her to stop, but because I want her completely naked and I want her now. Ava grabs the back of my neck and pulls me onto the bed with her. Her mouth is on mine. I taste myself on her tongue and feel her smile against my lips.
We wrestle for control, rolling until I settle over her.
She gasps and arches, wrapping her legs around my hips, grinding up hard enough that I can feel the heat of her even through two layers of denim.
I want her skin. I want every inch of her.
I take her sweater in both hands and pull it over her head, baring her to the cool air and the wash of moonlight from the window.
Her bra is pale, lacy and almost translucent against her skin.
I kiss the line between her breasts, down her belly, and trace the waistband of her jeans with my thumbs.
I want to be slow, but I can’t. I pop the button and drag the zipper down, then peel the denim and panties together, exposing her completely.
Ava’s body is lush and soft, hips and thighs made for gripping, and I anchor her knees wide with my hands so I can see all of her. She flushes, but does not look away.
“Are you going to stare all night?” she says, breathless and a little shaky.
“Probably. You’re perfect.”
She laughs and then grabs me by the wrist and yanks me down to her mouth, kissing me with a hunger that seems insatiable.
I taste the salt of her skin, the lingering sweetness from the celebration, and the raw need beneath it all.
She pulls me over her, and I remember with every muscle in my body that Ava is not soft at the core—she is iron, resilience, a woman who dares me to try and break her only so she can show me exactly where I will fail.
She rocks up into me, bare and hot and slick. When I touch her between her thighs, she gasps. Ava is amazingly responsive. She’s already wet and pulsing. I press two fingers along her and she shudders, her hips canting up so hard it nearly throws me off balance.
I rub slow circles, feeling every tremor, and when I slide a finger inside her she clamps down so tight I can barely move. She’s hot, velvet, impossibly soft. I fuck her with my hand, slow and deep, thumb working her clit, until her hips start lifting in these short, desperate jerks.
“Jake,” she gasps, “Don’t stop.”
Her voice breaks, high and sharp. I want to make her come like this, with nothing but my hands and my mouth and the weight of my body pressed into hers.
She fists the comforter in both hands, head thrown back, chest arched, and I have never wanted anything the way I want to see her fall apart for me.
I catch her nipple in my mouth, tongue circling it while I keep my hand working between her thighs. She keens, shivering, and I feel her start to go rigid.
“Jake, I’m …”
Ava comes hard, full body tensing, hips bucking and leg muscles locked tight.
Her body clamps around my hand, and I feel her pulse and flutter, all that strength and focus melting into pure sensation.
She sobs my name once, twice, then collapses, gasping.
I keep my hand there, working gentle circles, easing her down slow.
She’s still shaking when I finally slide my finger free.
Ava drags me up by the back of my neck, kisses me so hard our teeth knock together. “You’ve been holding out on me, Jake. I didn’t know about that skill,” she whispers.
“See how much you still have to discover.”
Ava laughs, winded and ragged. I smile because I am the one who did this to her. With nothing but my hands. With nothing but wanting to see her break and come back together in my arms.
She keeps her grip on me, rolling us so my back is against the bed. She straddles my hips, hair falling wild around her face, mouth red and lush. The flush across her chest is gorgeous, and she reaches between us and lines me up, grinding against the head of my cock in slow, deliberate circles.
I want to go slow for her, I do, but she sinks down in one motion, taking me down to the hilt in the space of a gasp.
The heat and tightness make my vision blur.
She braces one hand on my chest, the other raking through her hair, and she begins to move.
Slow at first, rocking back and forth, taking every inch of me like she’s savoring it.
The feeling is so intense I have to bite my own tongue to keep from coming immediately.
Ava rides me with the same stubborn confidence she brings to everything else.
Her hips work in these small, perfect circles that drive me insane.
When I grip her waist, she grabs my wrists and pins them above my head, leaning forward so her mouth is inches from mine.
“Don’t think I’m letting you off that easy,” she says, and the way her voice scratches makes my entire body tense.
She rides me slow, then faster, building the rhythm until I’m bracing both hands against the headboard just to keep from coming. Ava’s hair is everywhere, cheeks flushed, eyes bright and wild with pleasure. She bites her lower lip, and I lose it.
I flip us again, pinning her beneath me, and fuck into her hard and deep, the way I’ve wanted since the first time she glared at me in her bakery.
She matches every thrust, hips rising to meet mine, and we fuck like we’ve both been waiting since the first argument, since the first muddy boot prints, since the first time she called me out on my shit and I didn’t want her to stop.
It’s intense and rough and perfect, Ava’s hands clawing at my back, her thighs squeezing me so tight I can barely move. When she comes again, it’s sudden and violent, her body jerking beneath me, nails digging half-moons into my shoulders as she shouts my name.
The sound takes me with her, and I come so hard, hips stuttering.
The world narrows to nothing but the feel of her and the tightening flutter of her body around me.
I shout her name and bury myself as deep as I can, every muscle straining, until the only thing I can feel is her and the aftershocks tearing through both of us.
I collapse over her, breathing hard. For a few seconds, neither of us moves.
Ava is soft beneath me, her hands splayed across my back, one knee hooked high on my hip as if she’s determined to keep me there until sunrise.
She runs her fingers along my scalp, slow and almost absent, tracing up behind my ear and down the side of my jaw.
I’m heavy, but she holds me close, tucking her nose against my neck and breathing me in like I’m oxygen as if she’s been drowning for days. We lie there and let the world shrink to nothing but the sound of our breathing, the rush of blood and the cold moonlight painting everything blue and silver.
I’m not sure how much time passes. Eventually, my heart slows enough that I can roll to my side, taking Ava with me, wrapping her in the blanket that’s tangled halfway off the bed. She’s sticky and perfect, the sweat cooling on her skin.
I can’t keep my hands off her. I want to keep her like this … wrecked and happy, loose-limbed and unmoving, glued to my side. I want to wake up each day with her beside me, in my house, in my bed. I want all of it, even the parts that scare me.
Ava shifts, curling tighter against my chest, and I realize she’s falling asleep.
I kiss her hair, her temple, the bare skin of her shoulder, and pull her closer until her breathing slows.
I know she’s exhausted after being up nearly all night baking.
The stress has been incredible for her. And then I remember, tonight …
with me … her eyelid did not twitch. For once, nothing needs fixing. Everything is exactly where it belongs.