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)
My thoughts are interrupted by music, and I notice we’re approaching the entrance to a renowned alternative store. Ava’s pace slows. She’s curious. And so am I. I know what’s within these walls—I’m not curious about that, but her reaction to it?
“You want to see?” I ask, and she glances up.
“I thought you wanted to go home.”
I do. I don’t. “We can have a quick look.” I divert us and lead her down the stairs into the darkness. The music is brutal, a stark contrast to the evocative, sexy tracks that play in the communal room at The Manor. I watch Ava with interest as she wanders aimlessly through the glowing space, her eyes high and low, hands reaching out and touching the clothing. She skims her fingers over some rare pieces.
“It’s not lace, is it?” I ask quietly.
“Lace, it’s not. Do people wear this stuff?”
I chuckle at her wonder and indicate a crowd of hardcore clubbers passing by. But, really, all this stuff that’s got Ava’s mouth hanging open is tame. I look past her as she walks on, seeing she’s mindlessly heading toward the adult department. I’m too curious to stop her. She takes the steps, oblivious, and the moment she realizes what’s surrounding her, she stops still.
I restrain my smile as I take it all in too, the dancers, the cabinets loaded with toys, the music booming. It’s nothing like The Manor.
Ava looks up at me, and her face is a picture of astonishment that she’s trying so hard to hide. “Shocked?” I ask.
“Ish.”
I laugh inside. That was a big ish. But I need her to know, this isn’t my idea of sexy. “It’s a bit over the top, isn’t it?” I take her hand and lead her to a cabinet.
“Wow,” she gasps, and I smile at the huge dildo that has her attention, dipping to her ear.
“Don’t get excited. You don’t need one of those.”
“I don’t know,” she muses. “It looks like it could be fun.”
I bolt upright. No. I am not being sacrificed for a toy. “Ava, I’ll die before you use one of those.” I say it as it is, shuddering at the thought of something else, whether it be a man, woman, or a toy, giving her pleasure. That’s my job, and I take it very seriously, especially since she’s always so flexible during the throes of our passion. “I’m not sharing you with anyone or anything, even battery-operated devices.”
She bursts into laughter, and the sound is heaven.
“I might stretch to some handcuffs, though,” I say thoughtfully, and she smiles. Ava cuffed to my bed? It would be amazing.
“This doesn’t turn you on, does it?” she says, finally asking what she’s been desperate to ask since I let her stumble in here.
I take her in my hold and get us moving. “There’s only one thing in this world that turns me on,” I whisper into her hair. “And I love her in lace.”
Love. I love her in lace. I love her in my bed. I love her full stop. Did she hear that?
“Take me home,” she says, looking at me with aching eyes.
I kiss her, simply because I can’t not kiss her. “Are you making demands?”
“Yes. You’ve not been inside me for too long. It’s not acceptable.”
Jesus, those words. Make love to her. Take her to paradise. Then talk to her.
“You’re right; it’s not acceptable.” All of this is not acceptable. She needs the truth. She needs to know the real me. I hug her into my side and walk us back to the car, showering her head with kisses.
I’m no longer a man I recognize.
What I can’t fathom is whether that’s a good thing or not.
33
I’m awash with purpose, although it’s purpose of another kind. My plan has been shattered. All I can think about is getting her into my bed. Getting her under me. Worshipping every inch of her and more. My confessions are forgotten, my urgency growing the closer we get to the penthouse. She’s fidgety. Flushed. Begging for me.
I’m about to blow her world apart. Sate her need. I don’t think my heart has ever pounded so hard.
By the time we’re in the elevator, I’m set to explode, and yet I don’t get the chance to pounce. Ava beats me to it, pushing into my chest, catching me off guard. I stagger, my back slamming into the wall, and she’s on me, her mouth and hands everywhere, leading the way. And, of course, I’m with her, my fingers gripping her neck, securing her, my mouth working hers with equal energy. It’s crazy, clumsy passion, desperation embodied. This. I’ve never had this before. It’s empowering. It’s terrifying. Empowering because it gives me hope. Terrifying because I’ve lost the only people I’ve ever loved this fiercely.
“The doors,” I mumble jaggedly as her tongue swirls and stabs with mine, her hands holding my face, her whimpers and moans endless. I push my back from the wall and start moving blindly forward, as Ava steps back, unwilling to detach herself. I fumble and feel my way to the door, struggling to unlock it. “Easy,” I say, pushing at the handle. The door releases, and we fall over the threshold, a chaotic mess of bodies. It’ll take too long to get upstairs at this rate, so I pick her up, win back some control, and walk us to the kitchen.