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)
I pout, dipping and circling the tip of my nose with hers. “Sleep well?”
“Very.” She rolls her hips, and I pull back, my eyebrows hitting my hairline when she thrusts up. I try to contain my smug smile. Try. And fail. She wants me. She wants me so fucking bad.
“Me too.” I glide my mouth across hers leisurely and softly, working her up, making her body beg for more. I’m lazy as I kiss her. Gentle, slow, and infuriatingly unrushed. But I don’t need to rush. I have to keep reminding myself. She’s seen the light.
And with that thought, I release her wrists and work my touch down her torso, feeling her writhe, buck, squirm. My tongue rolls languidly through her mouth, corner to corner, her moans constant, her palms on my arse trying to instigate my movements. She gets her way. I lift, letting my dick fall into place. “I completely lose myself in you, lady,” I whisper, surrendering her lips so I can watch her as I dive slowly and deeply into her. The vision. The pleasure on her strained face. The whimpers of indulgence. Her hands leave my arse and land on my back, her eyes closing. Oh, no, no, no.
I hold back from setting the pace, the willpower draining my lungs of air, every muscle locking down. Not until she’s looking at me. I’m not moving until she looks at me.
“Look at me, Ava,” I grate, my teeth about ready to pop from my harsh bite.
Thank God, she listens, giving me her eyes, and I gaze into them, feeling nothing but wonder. Real. This is all real.
She wants me to move, her hips flexing in invitation, and I sigh and talk my muscles into loosening, retreating from the heat of her pussy and driving forward slowly. The friction is a blissful torture.
“I love sleepy sex with you,” I whisper, hoarsely.
She answers by thrusting upward, and I gulp, fighting to regain control when my dick jerks its delight.
“Is that good, Ava?” I keep our eyes locked, and she has no problem maintaining this level of intimacy.
“Yes.”
“Faster?” I ask.
“No, just like this, please, just stay like this.”
Good answer, and highly satisfying, because she’s consumed by this moment too. Now, this is making love. And that is exactly what I’m doing. Literally. Creating love. Fuck me, what I felt last night wasn’t a whimsical throw-away thought. As I feared, it was a very real, very serious thought. I always believed it would be impossible to love again. Now I feel it’s impossible not to love this woman. Cupid has rammed his fucking arrow through my heart, the sadistic bastard, and reminded me that I do, in fact, have one.
I feel frustration grip me, and I try in vain to shake it away. Ava’s legs come up and circle me, her touch feeling like it’s getting lighter.
Love.
Should I cut my losses now? Minimize damage control? Because how the fuck could this woman love me back?
Fuck.
I stop moving and gaze at her confused face. So beautiful. “Enough of the sleepy sex,” I declare, pulling out and ramming back into her brutally, letting my frustration take over. She cries out.
Damn my fucking history.
I retreat, smashing forward again.
Damn my stupid fucking choices.
I draw back and hammer home.
Damn my fucking life.
Bang.
Damn my weaknesses.
Bang.
Damn my darkness.
Bang.
Damn my black fucking soul.
Bang.
I take pleasure in Ava grabbing my hair and pulling it, take comfort in the pain. And when I kiss her and she bites my lip, I will her to bite harder. Hurt me. Make me suffer here and now, but please, please accept me. My hips work overtime, pounding into her, my head ready to explode with the pressure of my thoughts and my pleasure.
“I’m never letting you go,” I say as I kiss her wildly.
“I don’t want you to.”
I still, the words knocking me out of my hysteria. She doesn’t want me to. Listen to her, Ward. Don’t doubt it. Cut the self-sabotage bullshit. I look at her, and she withdraws, looking away, telling me I’ve failed to wipe the irritation from my face. Damn me.
“Look at me now, Ava,” I order harshly, wishing I could control this frustration. It’s not her, it’s me. All of this is me. I force my face to relax, to soften and hopefully ease her. “We’re going to have this conversation when you’re sound-minded and not crazy with lust.” I find my pace again and get us back on track to our morning highs before I let my crazy thoughts ruin it. But there’s the problem. They’re not crazy thoughts.
Shit, kiss her.
I let my mouth plummet to hers, struggling for air. Unable to breathe steadily.
Is it panic?
Pleasure?
Both?
My eyes close, and I concentrate, whimpering like a fucking baby when she strokes through my hair. “I’m going to come.” So damn hard. “Come with me, Ava. Give it to me.”