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I shift and crawl on top of her, swathing her with my body, dropping my face into her neck and kissing her awake. My lips haven’t been on her body for so long. “Wake up, baby,” I whisper. “Wake up and let me remind you of how incredible we are together.”
She stirs, moaning, her body stretching beneath me, her lids flickering.
“Morning,” I whisper, suppressing a groan when she unwittingly rolls her hips up at the tail end of her stretch. Her eyes open, and before she has the chance to commence the war between her heart and head, I lift, pulling her up to sit with me. I see the first signs of a sparkle in her eyes. The same sparkle I’ve seen every time we’re intimate, kissing, or even simply touching. “I need to do this,” I say, moving my hands to the hem of her top gingerly, slowly, taking my time. She doesn’t fight me when I peel it over her head, but she’s rigid, despite radiating want. I can smell it. Desperation. I dip and kiss her breastbone, licking my way up to her neck.
“Lace,” I whisper, reaching to unfasten her bra, kissing her everywhere I can reach.
“Jesse, we need to talk.”
“I needyou.” I work my way across to her lips and take her mouth softly. Tenderly. Her whimpers are quiet, as if she’s desperately trying to suppress her natural sounds of pleasure.
I feel her withdrawing. “Jesse, please.”
“Baby,” I murmur, resting my palm on her neck and applying pressure, keeping her close. “I do my talking this way.” I can feel her loosening, softening, giving in to the power. “Let me show you.”
She yields, letting me lay her down beneath us, and I kiss her. Slowly. Lovingly. I kiss her like a man should kiss a woman he adores, and there is no question I adore this woman. I leisurely trace my fingertip all over her body, needing to reacquaint myself with every curve, and she holds on to me with firm fingertips digging into my shoulders. I don’t feel a thing. Nothing could get past this oblivion of pleasure. This is exactly what I mean.Lost. Both of us.Peace. For both of us.
Love.
And in this moment, I know, it’s love for both of us.
I push into the mattress with my good hand, getting to my knees, and start pulling her knickers and shorts away. “You need reminding.”
“This is not the conventional way,” she says on an exhale, gazing up at me, her words contradicting her squirming. I smile to myself. There’s nothing conventional about Ava and me. Not one thing.
“It’s how I do things, Ava.” I yank her up to me, our flesh slapping on impact, and I take her mouth hungrily. “We need to make friends.”
She’s with me. One hundred percent with me. I feel the remnants of her restraint snap and she’s quickly grappling at my boxers, shoving them down. My gratitude leaves me on a deep moan, my dick breaking free, and I take us back down to the sheets, lying beside her, the perfect position to kiss her and feel her. Her foot is suddenly in the waist of my boxers, pushing them the rest of the way. I shift my feet, wriggling them to be free of the material, my tongue relentless in her mouth. Her hands are in my hair, her tongue matching the lazy swirling motions of mine. The devotion being communicated in this moment is inexplicable, and the emotion clogging my throat catches me by surprise. Jesus, I can’t cry. I can’t appear to be any weaker than I am. And yet feeling our love, even if it’s not yet been spoken, is washing away the pain—both physical and emotional. Or is it just papering over the cracks?
I swallow and pull away, immediately sinking my face into her neck to buy myself some time, taking my hand to between her thighs and dragging it slowly up her body. “I’ve missed you, baby.” I can hardly speak past the blockage in my throat. “I’ve missed you so much.” She’s been here, but she hasn’t been here. But she’s here now, in all of her beautiful, powerful, healing glory.
“I’ve missed you too.” Her palm rests on the back of my head. It’s a gesture of comfort, and I hate it. It feels so good, but I hate it. The dynamics of our relationship don’t work this way. This isn’t what I really need—her comfort. I need her to needme.
I take in air and put myself on top of her, my erection falling just perfectly into position, and I swallow, bracing myself. It might take a while. And in the meantime, I’ll just look at her. Look at her and know I haven’t completely lost her. “Thank you for coming back to me.” I have to say it. She needs to know how grateful and relieved I am that she’s accepted me. The Manor, the drink. Both could have ended this bliss.
Her hands framing my face, she silently traces my lip, eyes on mine, and I open, allowing her to slip her thumb into my mouth. I kiss the tip gently when she pulls it free, my happiness becoming overwhelming. I’m ready. I’m ready to do this—to feel and fall. I’m ready to hear and I’m ready to speak. I push into my forearms and lift my hips, holding my breath, watching her closely. And I sink in calmly and lazily. It’s immediately too much, the friction, the pleasure, the injection of life. I hold still as her internal muscles welcome me, compressing and pulling.Jesus. Ava’s eyes close, and I use the opportunity to gather myself, my head hanging limply, my eyes clenching shut, my breathing already going to shit. Fuck me, this is intense. The sensitivity, my crazy heart rate, my clammy skin. I need to take a second. Find some strength. How I’m feeling, overwhelmed and weak, has nothing to do with functioning on a half-empty tank and everything to do with pure, raw love. It’s crippling.
I open my eyes, my purpose and strength found. “Look at me.” I don’t know if it’s my hoarse demand or my dick kicking inside her, but she obeys on a broken cry. I make sure she’s looking straight into my eyes before I speak. Emotion finds me again, taking over, ruling me. “I love you,” I whisper, and the moment the words leave my mouth, I feel like the world has been lifted from my shoulders. But just as fast, a different weight is placed there. A heavier weight. Not the world. But the fucking universe. I blink away the sting in my eyes, trying so hard to keep myself in check while she’s staring at me. I won’t fuck up this time. I won’t lose her. Ican’tlose her. I’m on a journey to redemption, and I’m fiercely ignoring the possibility that by confessing my love to her, I’m also condemning her.
She suddenly isn’t holding me anymore, her arms on the bed, her eyes closed. “Don’t, Jesse.”
I flinch, injured, but this isn’t what she thinks. My confession isn’t an apology. It’s not a token gesture. It’s not an attempt to pacify her. “Ava, look at me.” She obeys, and it’s a comfort. So is the hope in her eyes. She wants to believe it. “I’ve been telling you how I feel the whole time.”
“No, you haven’t.” Her words are soft. Unsure. “You were hijacking my phone and trying to control me.”
I smile to myself.Trying. And she wastryingto make me crazy. Thrived on it. But we always agreed on one thing, and as if speaking up, my dick pulses its presence. I roll my hips on a strangled moan. She wants words. “Ava, I’ve never felt like this before,” I say quietly as I drive calmly into her, feeling her stiffen and heat beneath me. “I’ve been surrounded by naked women with no respect for themselves all of my life.” I take each of her hands and pin her to the bed, ignoring the pain, raising slightly to get some leverage before pumping once, smooth and firm. Her body jacks, and she cries out my name.
Another purposeful drive. “You’re not like them, Ava.” Nothing like them, and that is onlyoneof the reasons why I love her so fucking much.
I build up to consistent, constant thrusts as she cries out continuously. This, the effort, it should be draining me, but with each thrust, I feel more energy and purpose seeping into me. More love. “Jesus.” I stop abruptly, staring down at her panting, wet face. “You’re mine, and mine alone, baby,” I say quietly, and her throat rolls from her swallow. “Just for my eyes.” I scan her face, refreshing the mental pictures of her I have filed in every corner of my brain. “Just for my touch, and just for my pleasure.” I draw back, and my dick sliding through the hot walls of her pussy has me gritting my teeth. “Just mine. Do you understand me?” I hit home on a grunt, and she’s here for me. Absorbing. Taking it. Accepting it.
“What about you?” she asks. “Are you just mine?”
I smile on the inside. I’d be nothing at all, if I could only be hers. “Just yours, Ava,” I assure her.
And now...
“Tell me you love me,” I demand, retreating and plunging.
