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The cabbie grins. Looks across to Ava. He should stop that immediately. “Yes, boss,” he says, returning to the wheel and pulling off as fast as a black cab can manage.
I peek down at Ava’s hands pushing into the leather of the seat, her fingers clawing. Restraining. I can feel her eyes on my profile. “Don’t look at me,” I warn, doing the unthinkable. Moving away. And I look out of the window, willing the cabbie to hurry the fuck up before I send his vehicle up in smoke. My foot starts tapping, every piece of me restless as I count down every mile back to Lusso, cursing every light that turns red, every car that pulls out, every bus that pulls over at a bus stop, stalling us.
By the time we make it to Lusso, I’m dizzy with impatience. I throw some money at the driver, seize Ava’s hand, and haul her into the lobby, one gear off breaking out into a sprint.
“Morning, Clive,” I say when he looks up, his old eyes startled, following us into the elevator. The doors aren’t even closed before I have Ava against the wall, my kiss greedy, my hands frenzied. “I might have to fuck youbeforemy run in future.”
She whimpers, rubbing up against me, matching my mouth’s pace and hunger. Good God, I’m delirious with desperation, my moves clumsy, my kiss haphazard, and her acceptance, her equal passion, is like adrenaline being pumped directly into my veins. She moans, groans, grapples at my back, as desperate and impatient as I am, as we eat each other alive. I vaguely hear the doors open and blindly walk us out, tripping up each other’s feet as we go, awkward and chaotic. Relinquishing one hand from her hair, I feel around in my pocket for the key, pinning her against the door, still kissing her madly as I pat and smack at the wood, trying to locate the lock.Come on, come on, come on.
I get us in, kick the door closed, and get to work, tearing away her clothes, our hands colliding, our arms all tangled as she pulls at the material covering me.
Get inside her. Sate this mad urge. Cool the burn.
Ava rips my running vest up over my head, separating our mouths for a second before we reunite, our lips colliding, our tongues thrashing. I push her back into the wall. I need leverage. I need some weight behind me. I need an anchor for Ava. “On your knees,” I growl, breaking our kiss, turning her away from me. “Put your hands on the wall.” I shove my shorts down, toeing my trainers off, watching as she sinks to the floor and plants her palms onto the plaster. Waiting. Ready. Panting.
I blow out my cheeks, as ever in awe of what she does to me and, even better, what I do to her. I lower behind her, my eyes nailed to her arse as I take her hips, smiling when she twitches. I spread her legs. Look at my cock hovering on the threshold to heaven.
“Don’t come until I say,” I order, practically smelling her need for release. “Understand?”
She nods, solidifying, bracing herself. There’s no need to ply her. No need to ease in gently. She’s now more than accustomed to me.Only me. I breath in, swallow, and power forward on a broken growl, and the moment I’m buried balls deep, the urge for more friction takes over and my hips take on a mind of their own, thrusting brutally, yanking her onto me ferociously with each pound.
“Jesus, Jesse,” she yells, shocked but accepting, absorbing every hit.
“You knew this would be hard, Ava. Don’t you dare fucking come.” I piston on, beads of sweat flying off my skin with the force of each bang. “Fuck.” My fingers dig into her hips, my vision becomes blurred. “You,” I grunt, smashing into her hard. “Fucking.”Bang. “Drive.”Bang. “Me.”Bang. “Crazy.”Bang, bang, bang.
My God, is there anywhere better in this world I could be? The feel of her gliding over my shaft, watching her head thrash, her grunts every time I hit home. I move my hands to her shoulders, my body locking down, hardening, preparing, the pressure rushing forward. My jaw aches. My head spins. It’s there, coming hard, fast, ready to take me out. I look up at the ceiling, yelling. And then it happens, and I’m less than prepared for the onslaught of pleasure, the intensity, the shakes.
I have to stop moving, holding myself deep, gritting my teeth to deal with the sensitivity, hissing and using what remaining energy I have to hold Ava’s ponytail, tugging her head back, moving my spare hand to her pussy and massaging her clit. “Come.” I exhale over my demand, my look full of praise, her look full of wonder. And I kiss her, swallowing her moans, my spent body soaking up her trembles, my finger slowly circling her clit as I pulse inside of her, still seeping, still solid, until she eventually goes lax.
“Youarea god,” she breathes, and I smile into her mouth as she throws her arms back over my head, holding on. The move forces her chest forward, her nipples like bullets, her skin glistening.
“You’re so lucky.”
“You’re an arrogant god.”
I snort to myself. She loves this arrogant god. I suck back air, pulling free, and turn her around in my arms. It’s been too long since I had her eyes, and when I find them, they are drowsy. Sparkling but drowsy. “Your arrogant god loves you so fucking much.” My mouth homes in on her cheek, kissing, tasting the saltiness. “Your arrogant god wants to spend the rest of his life smothering you with his love and his body.” Dreams aside, it’s been the best possible start to our day, and you can be sure I’m starting as I mean to go on. I doubt so much about myself, but one thing I know I can give Ava is incomparable love and pleasure. She makes it so easy.
I stand us up, accommodating her demand for my mouth as she smothers me, nuzzling, humming her happiness. I just want to put her in our bed and carry on with this easy affection.
“What’s the time?” she asks.
“I don’t know.” I dismiss her quickly as she backs up, me following, still kissing.
“Shit,” she mumbles around my mouth, and I flinch.
“Hey, watch your fucking mouth.”
I’m completely ignored, even shrugged off, and before I can blink and reprimand her, ask her what the fuck she’s playing at, she’s gone from my arms and leaping up the stairs.
“It’s quarter to eight,” she shouts, panicked, disappearing from view.
Oh.
Work.
I scowl at nothing before me, wondering how the fuck she goes from all consumed to all distracted. And, worse, by work. That one thing that I absolutely cannot stop her from doing. I won’t try and kid myself that she works because she needs the money. She works because she loves her job, and that fucking sucks because it means convincing her she should let me support her, look after her, is a nonstarter.
“Fuck it,” I grumble, trudging after her. Where the hell did she find the energy to run? I was hoping for complete exhaustion. I need to get creative. Convince her to skive off, and then work my arse off to prove that staying at home with me is a far more appealing option than going to fucking work. Think, Ward.Think, think, think.
