Total pages in book: 204
Estimated words: 193115 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 966(@200wpm)___ 772(@250wpm)___ 644(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 193115 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 966(@200wpm)___ 772(@250wpm)___ 644(@300wpm)
“It’s a bit of a cliché, isn’t it?” she says on a playful grin.
Yes, yes, it is but, fuck me, this cliché looks pretty fucking perfect to me. I have another quick hit of cream, thinking how much better it’ll taste when I’m licking it from her flesh. “The old ones are the best.” Old. Like me. I kick that ridiculous thought away and focus on the woman before me.
The woman who finds me irresistible.
Now, time for part two of my plan. I go to the cupboard and rummage. “Here it is.” I eye up the jar of chocolate spread, my mouth watering. This has got to be up there with the greatest of desserts. I grab a spatula and casually hit the top of the jar with it, delighting in the satisfaction growing on her face.
I get rid of the lid, mirroring Ava’s curious, raised brow as I plunge the spatula inside, loading it with as much chocolate as I can get.
And smack it on her boob.
“Ouch!”
My grin is irrepressible as I spread it far and wide, coating her everywhere, her hums as constant as the throbs in my cock.
She’s covered. I’m done. And a fucking amazing job it is too. “My very own Ava éclair.”
She peeks down at her coated body. “I guess now you’ve had your fun,” she says, her arms wedging onto the counter. “I should go take a shower.”
What? I’m on her like a wolf, locking her to me, the slap of our chests deafening. She laughs, squirming against me, making sure I’m as covered as she is.
“Sneak,” I grumble, looking between us as I peel myself away, pouting. It’s all ruined, like a squished, melted, chewed-up eclair. Damn her.
Time to sweat, baby.
I lower her to the counter. “I’ve not even started with the fun part, lady.”
“I’m filthy,” she says around a dizzying grin.
“Oh, I love that grin.” It’s light, it’s happy, and I put it there. It’s fucking life. “You won’t be filthy for long.” I bend over her, my cock getting a torturous rub in the right spot. Control! I’m a joke. My finger must be vibrating against her skin as I drag it through the mess on her body. She’s regarding me with nothing less than adoration. That in itself is addictive. I pass over her erect nipple, watching her stiffen, her eyes shimmering with want. I make a meal, literally, of licking my finger clean. “Hmm,” I hum. “Chocolate, cream, and sweat.” And it is divine.
She’s growing more impatient, struggling to contain herself, reaching for me. I can’t bring myself to deny her. I’m done for, a slave to her demand, a fool in love. I take her mouth, and she kisses me to the clouds where I float for a while, consumed by our inexplicable connection, but the inferno inside is roaring loudly. I moan, she writhes. I can’t hold back anymore.
I pull her up, never leaving her mouth, her hands moving frantically through my hair, and tear my lips away, moving up her cheek to her ear, biting down when she forces her hips forward into my gyrating groin.
“Jesse.” It’s a plea, her body bowing.
“I know.” Fuck, I know. “You want me to take care of it?” Take care of you? Because, baby, need sounds good on you, and it feels pretty fucking amazing on me.
“Yes!”
She doesn’t know you, Ward.
I close my eyes tightly, pushing away my bullying, hounding conscience. Listen to her. Hear her. She loves you. Wants you. Needs you. She won’t leave you. I grit my teeth and place a tender kiss below her ear, bracing myself to face her. To tell her. I lower her to her back again, and she looks up at me with so much reverence, it physically hurts. Tell her. But tell her what? Which part? What horror do I begin with? I push a lock of hair away from her face, my gaze rooted on her adoring expression. Her face now, looking at me, waiting, watching me tear myself up inside. She has no idea.
I can’t do it.
I can’t take that look away. I can’t be the reason for her hurt. I’ve hurt too many people, and I’ll be dead before I add Ava to that list. She’s redemption for me and, selfishly, I can’t take that away from myself either. “Everything is so much more bearable with you around, Ava,” I whisper. That much she can know. I’ll be lost without her. I know it to be true, because during the times we’re apart, I feel like I’m slowly dying again. Counting down the minutes until she takes me to the clouds. Talking myself in circles if she so much as misses a call. Beating myself up, constantly worrying about what the future holds. I don’t know what it holds, and it’s fucking scary. So, no matter what, to preserve this crazy kind of wonderful, I must do what I need to do. And she has to find it in herself to accept that.