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“An espresso martini. I ordered room service.” I explain, passing him his glass and when he tries it, he shakes in disgust.
“That tastes like shit.” He screws his nose up at me.
“They taste much better in New York.” I laugh. He’s looking hot as hell with just the hotel's white towel wrapped around his waist, and when he jumps onto the bed and rests beside me, I can’t help reaching out and running my fingers over the colorful ink on his torso.
“When do you have to leave?” An idea comes to mind and, now it’s there, I can’t get it out of my head.
“I gotta flight booked for Tuesday night.” He props his head up on his elbow and stares at me like he’s trying to read my thoughts.
“I’d like you to stay here with me until then?” I take the plunge and ask, knowing how forward it sounds, but I’m desperate to know how it feels to sleep in his arms. What just happened between us was out of this world, and I’ve got a feeling we haven’t even scratched the surface.
“You want me to stay here?” His eyes stretch open.
“Does that sound so crazy?” I shrug my shoulders, trying my best to be cool.
“Yeah, it sounds fuckin’ crazy. I don’t even know your name and this place…” He looks around my hotel suite and laughs.
“Name’s Ava. This place isn’t a patch on the Plaza.” I hold out my hand for him to shake.
“You’re serious, ain’t ya?” He looks between my eyes and my hand and laughs.
“I’m serious.” I nod my head.
“Isaac.” He takes my hand in his, gripping it hard, then using it to yank my arm and pull my body on top of his.
“Is that a yes?” I check as his huge, callused palm slides up my back and fists at my hair again.
“It’s a yes, Princess.” He forces my lips onto his and kisses me till I’m dizzy.
Ibarely let the girl finish her last bite before I throw some bills on the table and drag her outta the bar. When we cross the street to the clubhouse, it's a lot busier than it was when we left. The music is turned up, and Wendy’s got most of the club members’ attention as she dances on the pole that Slingshot insisted we had put up in the corner. It works for me because I manage to sneak Ava through the bar and into the stairwell without attracting any attention. I come to a halt as I’m climbing the stairs and feel a tug on my hand. When I spin around to see what's holding her up, she presses her lips against mine and kisses me like she’s been starved. It hits me with a shot of adrenaline, one that has me wanting to fuck her here and now on the fuckin’ stairs.
“I missed you. Does that sound crazy?” She looks back at me confused, and it makes me feel unworthy; it also makes me want to kill whoever it is that’s making her scared. Slowly, painfully, and without fuckin’ mercy.
“It ain’t crazy.” I shake my head, thinking of the broken heel I’ve been carrying around in my cut pocket for a year. Then, not wanting to waste any more time, I drag her up the rest of the stairs toward my room, kissing her as we push through the door, and pull each other's clothes off clumsily.
“I’m not lettin’ ya go again.” I cup her chin in my fingers and force her to look at me. She needs to know what she’s letting herself in for.
Before, in Paris, I convinced myself that I was doing the right thing. I thought that getting on that plane and forgetting us would be the best thing for her, and I’ve regretted it every day since. Now she’s back, staring at me with those wide, brown eyes again. I won’t let her slip through my fingers a second time. She looks a little overwhelmed, so I kiss her lips and remind her why her leaving me now ain’t a fuckin’ option.
I rest my ass on the edge of the bed so Ava can climb on top of me, straddling my lap and pressing delicate but desperate kisses across my neck. The way her fingers tug at my hair and her breath falls into my ear reminds me of all the reasons I haven’t been able to forget her. And as I grip her hips tight in my hands and guide her to slip back and forth on my cock, being inside her again feels like the end to all the fuckin’ misery I’ve suffered since.
“Fuck, that feels good,” she whispers, and hearing her curse in that sweet, little voice has me digging my fingers into her skin a little harder.
I control the pace her hot, petite body makes on me as she pulls her head back from my lips to look down between our bodies and watch me fill her. When she looks back up at me and smiles with satisfaction, I swear I feel my heart leap into my throat and choke me.
I raise one of my hands up her back and grab her hair, forcing her forehead onto mine and keeping our eyes connected.
“I mean it; you're mine,” I growl the words at her, continuing to work her body onto mine and bringing us closer.
She nods her head back at me with determination, and I flip our position so she’s lying on the mattress and my body is hovering over hers. Taking her wrists in my hands, I pin her down and fuck her the way I know she likes it. Rough, hard, and dirty.
I learned over the few days I spent with her in Paris that too many people treat Ava like a delicate little princess. She doesn’t want that from me. She wants me to own her body, to fuck all the pureness outta her soul, and help her unleash all the unholy thoughts in her mind.
I do exactly that. Bruising her skin from how roughly I hold on to it as I thrust inside her, hard and fast, and watch her come apart beneath me. I feel her body tremble when she comes, her eyes opening in shock like she’s forgotten how good it feels, and with her dilated pupils fixed on mine and her loud moans echoing around my room, I come right along with her. One of my hands drops from her wrist and arches around her throat as I fill her hot, little pussy. The room becomes almost silent, with only the sound of our gasps for breath between us as we both come back down to earth and when I feel something vibrate under my hand, I stare at her in confusion.
“Sorry.” She looks back at me awkwardly before pulling herself free from my grip and making the watch on her wrist stop buzzing.
“It’s linked to my phone,” she explains, and when I take her wrist in mine and check it out, I see the name Scott flashing on the screen.
