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“Connor,” I whisper, and he glances up, his eyes hooded. “Please?”
He keeps his eyes on mine when his tongue darts out, flicks at my pointed flesh. I instinctively push my hips down, wanting more, needing all of him. “Shit,” I moan when he goes for the other nipple, this time taking the entire thing in his mouth.
“Is this okay?” he asks.
“Please don’t stop,” I sigh, scooting back an inch. I run my hands down his chest, his stomach, fingers playing with the band of his shorts. I hesitate a beat, not knowing if he wants to go this far…
He makes the choice for me, his hand taking mine, guiding me beneath his shorts until my hand circles his cock. So smooth, so hard, so—
“Move,” he says.
“What?” I breathe out.
“Your hand, move it up and down.” Every word is a plea, and so I do as he asks, swallow the groan that bursts from within him. He kisses me, his hands tightening on my backside as I stroke him, long and slow. I break the kiss so I can fill my lungs, but he doesn’t stop. He goes straight to my breasts again, and my back arches, inviting him, while I try to stay focused on his pleasure. And then I feel him, his fingers at the place I crave him the most. He shifts my underwear to the side, a single finger exploring the evidence of my pleasure. He doesn’t stop with my breasts, teasing me, tasting me. I pull on his hair when a single finger slides inside me, again and again, and I can’t breathe, can’t… the world is a blur, our heavy breaths the only sounds filling my ears.
“Fuck, Ava, I’m so close. And you—you’re so fucking perfect.”
At his words, I feel the throbbing escalate, two fingers inside me now. I ride his fingers, fucking them without shame, and continue to stroke him. His cock hardens even more, and I build, build, build, until I fly, soar over the edge.
His groan comes at the same time he does, his pleasure covering my fist.
My eyes snap open to see him watching me, his mouth wide, breaths harsh, chest rising, falling. “Mmm,” he murmurs, then swallows. “Well, that sucked.”
I laugh into his neck. “It was horrible.”
“The worst.”
* * *
Connor lies on his back post-bliss cleanup, stroking the loose strands of my hair while I listen to his heartbeat thump against my cheek. He asks, “Did you and Trevor have a hard time getting along at the beginning?”
“We still have a hard time,” I joke.
He chuckles.
“Why do you ask?”
“I don’t know,” he says through a sigh. “Every now and then I get this random thought in my head that my mom’s out there, you know? And she has this new family… and that new family is everything she ever wanted. Everything I wasn’t.” His voice cracks, and I lean up on my elbow so I can look down at him, at his distant eyes and the slight frown pulling on his lips.
I run my mouth along his, but I don’t kiss him. “I hope one day you wake up and realize that the mistakes she made are her burdens, not yours. I hope that you’ll eventually understand that what she did isn’t a reflection of you—of your three-year-old self.” I’m getting worked up, so I try to take a calming breath, but I fail. “And if she is out there, I hope that one day she’ll find you, and she’ll see the same man I do. The strong, empathetic, courageous, protective man who cares so much about so many things, who wears other people’s pain as if it were his… I hope she sees you and she fucking hates herself for not being the one to raise you, to guide you into becoming that person.” My nostrils flare with my exhale. “I hope she hates herself as much as I hate her.” I grind out the last few words, my anger getting the best of me. I sob. I don’t mean to, but I do, and as promised, Connor wipes the tears away, his heavy sigh hitting my cheeks.
“It’s okay, Ava.”
“It’s not,” I cry out. “It’s not okay, Connor. How dare she… how dare she leave you like that—to fucking die—and leave you with these questions and these… these doubts about yourself! God, I hate her so much!”
He leans up a little, lifts his hand to my jaw, his eyes taking me in for a long moment. Then he says, “Do you know the name of that movie with Omar Epps? It’s like this guy and girl who live next door to each other, and they’re both trying to pursue basketball careers...”
“Love and Basketball?” I ask.
He smiles, settles his head back down. “That’s pretty much what my life is at the moment.” I try to hide my stupid grin on his neck while he brings me closer, my heart racing, flying. Kissing my forehead, he murmurs, “Love and basketball.”
We hold on to each other for the rest of the afternoon, talking about everything but tomorrow. We fight, we float, we laugh, and we fall. God, do we fall. Deeper and deeper into these reckless emotions.
FORTY
ava
The moment Connor pulls up in front of our houses, my heart begins to sink. I know it’s not reasonable to feel this way, to fear the idea of missing someone so achingly even though it’s just one night.
