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“Again,” I whisper. “One more for me.”
“One more,” she whimpers.
I take that as a challenge, a gift of sorts as well. I pin her hip to the bed with my hand and shift so I’m touching that spot within her that will send her over the edge again.
I take her with deep thrusts, fucking her so hard that the bed moves as I increase the pace.
Grunts, groans, and sounds I’ve never heard before spill from a place inside of me that didn’t exist before today.
I feel the velvet heat of her pussy as she tightens around me, and with one last guttural moan, I fill the condom as I arch my neck back and silently pray to whoever is listening that when I die, it will happen while I’m thinking about her.
“Food, please.”
I glance next to me to where Ava is sprawled out on her bed.
Her flesh is flushed pink from head to toe. I take pride in that because after I fucked her, I tossed the condom and crawled between her legs to eat my way to bliss.
Her taste made me ache to fuck her again, but I wanted to give her more than I was willing to take.
“You’re hungry?” I whisper.
She nods, keeping her gaze trained on the ceiling. “Famished.”
I turn to my side, so I’m facing her. “What are you in the mood for?”
“A burger and fries.”
The answer to my question was direct and to the point, but beneath that, her voice had a tremor that I haven’t heard before.
“Look at me, Ava.”
She refuses to do it, instead closing her eyes.
I inch closer, wishing to fuck I had my reading glasses because although I can make out each of her delicate features, she’s the slightest bit blurry.
“Look at me,” I repeat.
Her head shakes slightly.
I dart a finger over her chin to persuade her to follow my direction, but it stops as soon as I feel the unmistakable remnants of a tear.
Panic shoots through me.
“Ava?” I move so I’m hovering partially above her, my weight resting on one hand. “Did I hurt you? Tell me if I hurt you.”
“No,” she murmurs.
“What then?” I push, needing to understand this. “What did I do?”
“Nothing.”
The fuck was spectacular. I lost track of how many times she came. The last was mere moments ago as she dug her fingers into my scalp and rode my face.
“Ava.” I push the hair back from her forehead to plant two kisses there. “Please, sweetheart, tell me.”
Her eyes pop open. Again, I can’t see her clearly. I can’t judge if she’s hurt, angry or wishes to fuck I would get the hell out.
“That was…” her soft voice trails. “It was the best I’ve ever felt.”
Pride shoves its way into my chest, crowding out the fear blooming there.
“I didn’t know it could be like that,” she says.
I stroke her hair softly, confessing my truth to her. “It was incredible for me, too, London.”
“It was?” Surprise etches the words. “That was good for you too?”
If she only knew how good. I’ve never lost myself like that during sex. I felt it everywhere, and the high from the orgasm still has its grip on me.
“The best,” I confess. “You’re so damn good, Ava.”
I lean back so I can see her face more clearly.
Her gaze is stuck on my mouth. “You don’t know how good I am yet.”
I huff out a laugh. “I think I have a pretty good idea.”
With both of her hands on my shoulders, she pushes my back onto the bed. “You’re about to have your world blown apart, Harrison.”
She moves quickly to wrap her hands around my dick before she lowers her sweet lips to it.
As I thread my hands into the soft strands of her hair, I close my eyes and let myself feel.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Ava
“What kind of burger are you eating?” I point a French fry toward the plate in front of Harry.
“Grilled chicken,” he says before he takes another hearty bite.
I scrunch my nose. “Beef is better, and who eats salad with their burger after sex? It’s fries all the way.”
He chuckles as he chews.
“I always want fries after I fuck.” I take a bite of one.
“Don’t tell me that, Ava.” He shakes his head. "I don't want to know what you do with other men after you..."
He doesn’t finish the sentence, but I know what he was about to say.
“Are you always this jealous, Harry?”
He wipes a paper napkin over his lips. “Never.”
“Never?” I repeat. “Seriously? I find that hard to believe.”
He leans back in the chair, and it’s a sight to see. He’s shirtless with his jeans undone, so I can see just a slice of the waistband of his black boxer briefs. Of course, my surname is sprawled over that since he wears the brand that Sean and Declan created.
“I find this hard to believe,” he confesses. “This feeling of jealousy. I don’t know where the hell it came from, but it’s there, so I need to deal with it.”
