Total pages in book: 235
Estimated words: 224334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1122(@200wpm)___ 897(@250wpm)___ 748(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 224334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1122(@200wpm)___ 897(@250wpm)___ 748(@300wpm)
She obeys immediately, whimpering loudly as she rises, and I grunt, gritting my teeth, concentrating so fucking hard on holding back my release. “Do you have a good grip?” I ask, drawing a perfect line down her spine, watching her hands flex around the wood.
“Yes,” she replies, short and curt.
I smile as I slip out, slap her arse, and slam back in. “Brace your arms, Ava.” I drive forward again, hard and fast, hissing as I do, and she yells, telling me it feels good, accepting the pleasure, screaming. The walls of her pussy start to pulse, her hips shooting back to catch each thrust. She’s going to come. “Oh, no you don’t.” I pull out and get her onto her back, kneeling over her, taking my dick in my fist and thrusting. “Open your eyes, Ava,” I yell when she defiantly slams them shut.
“You’re a bastard,” she yells, furious. “I’m going to get so drunk tonight.”
“No, you’re not.” I swallow, my focus becoming hazy, as Ava, battles with her impulse to watch me pleasure myself all over her. I watch her boobs bounce, her eyes betraying her, sparkling delightedly, admittedly with a hint of anger mixed in there. Here it comes. Fuck.
I fall forward, taking the headboard for support, and roar when the pressure becomes too much, right before the tip of my cock detonates and shoots cum all over her boobs. I gasp, my heart hammering, my brow wet, as I slow my strokes and breathe through the toe-curling pleasure. Sated. Ava, however, and quite ironically, looks fit to burst. “Do you want to come?” I ask, breathless.
Her jaw twitches, no doubt from the force of her bite. “I’m going out.”
“Stubborn woman.” I rub myself all over her chest, admiring my work and her tidy bruise as I tuck myself away. “My work here is done.” I slam a hard kiss on her lips, smiling when she accepts my tongue. I indulge her for a few seconds, kissing her as desperately as she’s kissing me, moaning as indulgently as she does.
Then I deny her again, pulling away, smiling down at her when she completely loses the plot and screams, thrashing around. I laugh and get off the bed, slapping her arse one last time. “Don’t shower.”
“I’ve not got time!” she shouts, followed by a few more shrieks of displeasure, as I smile my way out of the bedroom.
I make it to the kitchen and call Sam, dropping onto a stool. “Busy?” I ask, and he laughs. I roll my eyes. “I’m not happy.”
“No shit, Jesse. They’ll be fine.”
“Sam, the last time you said that I found Ava pissed up on a bar floor wearing next to nothing.” I go to the fridge and yank the door open, scanning the contents. “Also, is last night classified information or—”
“Let’s never talk about last night ever again.”
“Are you at Kate’s?”
“Yes.”
“And Drew? Where’s he?”
“I don’t know, why?”
“I called him. He sounded worse for wear, and he didn’t answer when I asked him where he was.”
“I’ll find out. So, did you do it?”
“Do what?” I take my peanut butter and go to the island, waking up my laptop.
“Ask Ava to marry you.”
I smile. “Yes.”
“And her parents? They’re happy?”
“Have you been talking to John?” I unscrew the cap of my jar and poke a finger in aggressively. “I’m meeting her parents this weekend.” Ava just doesn’t know it yet.
“That’s great.”
“I’ll call you when I’ve dropped Ava off.” I hang up and think about how I can subtly hint to the parent situation again without it resulting in Ava evading and me being pissed off. It shouldn’t even be a situation. Maybe I should take the lead. Call them. Yes, I should call them. Explain. Explain what? I frown as I suck my finger clean, seeing something out the corner of my eye.
Ava.
Creeping through the lounge.
Wearing the gray dress that puts the one involved in the dress massacre to shame.
What the ever-loving fuck? I very nearly bite my fucking finger off. “You’re not fucking wearing that!” I yell, taking her in, top to toe, my eyes wide, my mouth hanging open. Jesus fucking Christ. “A—”
She’s off like a gazelle, making her escape, and I flinch when the front door slams, shaking the penthouse. “Ava,” I bellow, going after her. “She’ll be the fucking death of me,” I hiss, flinging the door open, just as the elevator doors meet in the middle. I catch a glimpse of her. Smug. Waving. I’ll kill her. Slowly. And that dress is getting shredded while she watches. I look between the elevator and the door that leads to the stairwell, torn over which will get me to her the fastest. “Fuck it.” I head for the stairwell and punch in the code to let me through, flinging myself down the first few flights before I meet another door with another code. “Fuck’s sake,” I hiss, fumbling with the keypad. As soon as I’m through, I race down like a whirlwind, breaking out into the foyer and sprinting through, catching Clive’s alarmed face, his hand in midair holding a phone.