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Ask first, fuck her after.
Celebrate.
Because she will say yes. Shewillsay yes.
I get her lips close to mine, circling our noses, scanning her eyes, waiting for them to open. I see a small flicker. “Good morning,” I whisper, pulling back a fraction to get her entire face in my sights. She squints, and a slow smile pulls at her lips when she finds me gazing down at her. It falls the moment she attempts to move and the clang of the cuffs sounds.
I hold my breath, waiting for it, trying so fucking hard not to smile at her expression as she slowly fathoms what’s going on.
She looks above us. Exhales.
“Were you planning on going somewhere?” I ask, bringing her attention back my way. Her eyes are no longer drowsy with sleep. Her face is no longer peacefully unaware. She knows what’s coming.
But, also, doesn’t.
“What are you going to do?” The graininess of her words does not assist with the situation growing between my legs.
“We’re going to make friends. You want to make friends, don’t you?”
She pouts. It’s adorable. “Sleepy sex?”
“No, not sleepy sex,” I muse. “I haven’t thought of a name for this one yet.” I have. I just can’t tell her what it is without giving away my intention. This here, ladies and gentlemen, will be The Proposal Fuck. It’s in pole position to being my favorite. Her answer, of course, will dictate that. So let’s get on with it.
Her eyes follow me as I reach for the gold giftbag on the bedside table, and I sit astride of her, peeking inside. “What have we got in here then?” I have a rummage, as Ava has a pointless wriggle, and pull out the first thing I lay my hands on. A vibrator. “We don’t need that.” I still have war wounds, and I doubt the mental scars will be gone anytime soon. I toss it aside and dive back into the bag. I know what I’m looking for. Where the fuck is it? “What else is there?” I pull out a box of condoms, snort, and chuck them over my shoulder. “We don’t need those either.”
Ava’s head lifts from the pillow, trying to see what it is exactly we don’t need. I should watch my words. “What?” she asks.
I bite at my lip, mentally scolding myself, and ignore her, my eyes drifting onto her stomach beneath the bag as I pull out a scrap of silver material. “Not lace,” I muse, thoughtful, blindly dipping into the bag again, my eyes still on her tummy, not the bag. Not that she’d realize, since the bag is on her tummy. Is she still taking her pills? Remembering?
My teeth sink in a little too hard, and I scowl at myself, resetting my attention on the bag before Ava notices I’m distracted. I pull out a voucher for Botox. For God’s sake. I rip it up and throw it.
“What was that?” Ava asks.
I look up to the smooth, young skin of her face. “Nothing you’ll ever need.”
But she wants to know, of course she wants to know, pressing me.
“A voucher for Botox.”
She laughs.
I finally find what I want and toss the rest aside, unimpressed with the contents. But this? I study the cock ring, pouting, feeling Ava’s wary curiosity studying it too. “This looks interesting.”
“What the hell is that?”
She doesn’t know? God love her, I’d say she’s led a sheltered life, but it’s me who’s led a debauched life. I reach forward and plump her pillow, giving her a quick kiss. “I want you to have a good view.” I raise to my knees, and the smooth skin of her forehead becomes creased as she watches me start to slip the cock ring over my dick.
“Oh, no,” she blurts, horrified, my intentions slowly becoming clear. Kind of. “If I don’t get battery-operated devices, neither do you.” She bucks beneath me, forcing me to move or risk her catching me in the bollocks. I focus on my task, tweaking the metal piece into position as she makes her displeasure known, defiantly looking away, like she can escape.
“Look at me,” I say through my teeth, being forced to take her jaw and direct her face downward. Her gaze drops to mine. She can’t hide the glimmer of lust. The sparks of hunger. I’m going to make her want me so badly, she’ll do anything to get me. “Kiss me now, Ava.” I drop my mouth a fraction, invitingly, and she doesn’t let me down, lifting and catching my lips, kissing me hungrily, and I indulge her, sweeping my tongue through her mouth, relishing her moaning, increasing the pressure, ravenous. “You will watch,” I pant, wrenching myself away.
“Turn the music off,” she yells, bucking, knocking me off balance on my knees, and very nearly catching my fucking balls again.
I grab her hip bone to still her. “Why?” I ask, as she pants up in my face, her cheeks a beautiful shade of flushed. “Are you feeling horny?” I drift down to her boobs and take a nipple into my mouth, sucking hard, forcing her spine to bend sharply and her eyes to close.
No escape.
I order her to open her eyes through my mouthful of boob, squeezing her hip until she obeys, looking at her looking at me as I worship her body. She stiffens, relaxes, stiffens, relaxes.
