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)
She hums, accepting it all, willing it on, begging for it. “You feel so good.”
“I feel good?” If she could feel what I’m feeling, see what I’m seeing, taste what I’m tasting. “Fuck, Ava, you do serious things to me.”
She screams my name, grappling at my back.
I increase my pace, now in my stride, ready for the finish line. “Ava.” I thrust harder, hissing at the stabbing of her nails in my flesh. “Wherever I’m going from now on, I’m taking you with me, baby.” I pound hard, gasping for air, my sweaty palms beginning to slide on the wall. “Shit,” I bellow, and she screams. “You’re going to come,” I pant into her face, watching her struggle, fucking loving her battle to hold on.
“Hard!” she yells, and I wince when she sinks her teeth into my lip, but I endure the pain, the pleasure taking over every nerve ending and sending my big body into spasm, as she jerks, tenses, moans, scratches.
She comes with force, her face plummeting into my neck, her body racked with shakes, and I tip the edge with her, holding my breath and smashing home, exploding, releasing air on a bellow of her name. My legs fail me, and I fold to the floor, fucking knackered. Ava somehow finds it in herself to sit up, astride of my lap, rolling her hips, bleeding me dry of pleasure. I’m done for. Totally useless, my body splattered and splayed. But I can keep my eyes open and watch her grinding into me, quiet, thoughtful, a small, satisfied smile on her face.
“What are you thinking about?” I ask, my words labored.
“About how much I love you.”
Music. Fucking music to my ears. “Do I still qualify as your god?”
“Always.” Her hands work circles across my chest, feeling me everywhere she can, her walls still hugging me snuggly. “Am I still your temptress?”
“That, baby, you most certainly are.” Her smile is pure gold. “God, I love your grin.”
“Bath, god?” she asks, giving my nipples a little pinch.
Bath? We’re having a bath? And there’s a fine example of what this woman does to me. She makes me forget everything except her when I’m lost in her, which makes being lost in her a necessity. “Shit.” The bath. “It’s still running.” I shoot up, taking Ava with me, neglecting to remember that my hand still hurts like a bitch. I suck back air, enduring the pain, irritated by the hindrance.
“Put me down.” She wriggles, and because I’m a fucking dickhead, I grip her harder.
Motherfucker.
“Never.” Half dead, I’d still hold on to her with everything I have. And I might need to. The thought is more than sobering, and not one for now.
“You could leave that bath running for a week and it wouldn’t be full.”
“I know.” I step in with her wrapped around me and sink us into the water on a happy sigh. “The designer of all this Italian shit obviously has no regard for the environment or my carbon footprint.”
“Says he with twelve superbikes,” she huffs, coming to settle on my lap, her pussy still clinging to me as she studies me, her eyes roaming happily. And I’m more than happy to lie here and be the focus of her gaze. “I could look at you all day,” she whispers, her finger dragging across my skin, her eyes following it, her head tilted thoughtfully. It’s a vision I’ll store away forever and call upon endlessly. The way she’s looking at me. The contentment. The ends of her long, dark hair skimming the water, strands stuck to her wet breasts, her nipples erect, hard on soft, perfect mounds. And don’t get me started on her eyes. I relax back and watch her closely as she works her touch across my body, finishing at my mouth. Her eyes flick up to mine, her smile demure. “I love your mouth.” She slowly falls forward, kissing the corner, the center, the other corner. “I love your body.” She pushes her front into mine and her tongue into my mouth. “I love your crazy mind too.” I’m gone, consumed, absolutely blindsided by her, by now, by this kiss. Someone needs to love my crazy, and it’s a good fucking job she does, since she spikes it.
“You make me crazy, Ava.” I feel her hands circle my neck, holding me. “Just you.” Our kiss deepens, tongues lapping lazily, bodies pushing closer. And then she’s gone, leaving my mouth bare and lonely.
“Crazy,” she whispers, and I smile.
“Ish.” There’s really no ish about it. I’m arguably certifiable these days. And here is my antidote, straddling my lap, naked. The cause and the cure. She’s fully mine in this moment. Acquiescent. I need to take the opportunity while she’s presenting me with it. “Let me wash you,” I say, turning her around, getting her comfortable and snug between my legs, my mind racing with how best to approach this. I take a sponge and start gliding it across her skin. Demand it? Beg for it? “I need to talk to you about something,” I say, cringing as I speak the words, hearing how unsure I sound.