Total pages in book: 235
Estimated words: 224334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1122(@200wpm)___ 897(@250wpm)___ 748(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 224334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1122(@200wpm)___ 897(@250wpm)___ 748(@300wpm)
“Say it,” I demand, squeezing her leg. I know you do. It’s Ava’s way. “I need to hear it.”
Her eyes dart across my face, unsure. “I love you.” And she kisses me, climbing up my body, holding on. “I’ll always love you.”
Always.
It’s a really long fucking time, but not nearly long enough. We gaze at each other, my cock ready and poised to sink into her. “Do you need me?” I whisper.
“I need you.” Need trumps want every day of the week. “I love you.” Her eyes shine with a sincerity I’ve never seen before. I believe her. It doesn’t mean I’ll ever stop needing to hear it. Doesn’t mean I’ll ever stop worrying she could change her mind.
“Always.” I let her drop slowly onto me, impaling her, my chest expanding with my inhale, Ava’s too. I take a moment and a few breaths before risking using my legs to carry Ava to the nearest thing I can lay her on.
A lounger.
Need is more powerful than want.
I need this woman. She needs me. But there’s always one person in any relationship that’s at a disadvantage. Always one that loves more than the other. This has to be even ground. She hates my protectiveness. I can’t change that. She loves my attention. My body. My ability. The explosions of us coming together.
My weapon.
“Feel how perfect we are together?” I push into her slowly, groaning, as she looks up at me, rapt, holding my arms, her body moving with mine effortlessly. “Do you feel it?”
“I do.” She nods, biting her lip, her hands caressing my back.
“Me too. Let’s make love.” I don’t take my eyes off her. Can’t. And she remains fixated on me. I roll, grind, drive, all slowly, all controlled, savoring every move, as I study the awe on her face. Not awe for me or what I’m doing.
Awe for us.
When we’re like this, it’s hard to believe there is anything that can tear us apart.
But there is.
If I allow it.
I’m unable to stop my body from moving, from taking the pleasure, and she’s not helping, squeezing me inside of her. She tenses, trying to delay the inevitable, but I can feel her going, and then she confirms it, her words urgent.
“Together,” I command. She locks down every muscle around me as I fight to remain composed, both physically and emotionally, my eyes stinging, my body shaking violently.
“I’m there, Jesse.” She shakes with me, and I see she’s gone past the point of return, her hands grappling at my back, her cry high-pitched. It doesn’t take much effort to join her. A few thrusts. A yell. A grind. Every muscle gives, and I fall onto her, breathless, as I come again, as hard as I did before, but this time inside of her.
“Fuck,” she whispers.
“Mouth,” I counter, with no scorn at all. I’m too beat. “Do you think you will ever stop swearing?” It physically hurts hearing such vulgar language coming from the perfect mouth of the perfect woman. Ironic, really, since she’s far from perfect. She swears, she drinks, she wears inappropriate clothing. So, yeah, she’s far from perfect. And yet perfectly perfect for me.
“I only swear when you challenge me or pleasure me.”
Love how she pushes it back onto me. Although, I admit, she’s probably right. My shoulder blades pull in, tensing, when her dainty finger glides across my back, and I smile when I figure out that she’s spelling something.
Fuck.
I ease up and take my finger to her chest, writing “mouth” across her skin. Then I indulge in her boobs, kissing one nipple, then the other, before latching on with my teeth, looking up at her in warning.
She giggles, freezing, holding her breath, enduring the bite, and I hum, licking some life back into it, the hard pebble against my soft tongue blissful. She relaxes, and after I’ve played with her boobs a little longer, indulging myself, I glance up and see she’s settled, her eyes closed, happy to leave me to lavish her chest with my mouth. But as I work around in circles, I notice her smooth skin becoming bumpy. Cold.
“You’re shivering. Let me get you inside.” I lift a fraction, but I’m hauled back down, and I laugh at her insatiable need to have me all over her. Shame that doesn’t apply during working hours. “Comfy?”
“Hmmm.”
“Bed.” I stand and lift her into my arms, carrying her to the bedroom, and as soon as I climb in beside her, she’s crawling onto me, snuggling deeply. I hold her, looking up at the ceiling, listening to the calming sounds of her breathing changing as she drifts off. This. In our home, in our bed, Ava asleep in my arms, snug, warm, peaceful. It’s one of my most favorite places to be. The quiet, the calm, the sense of overwhelming love. It’s also a place I’m coming to hate.