BRUNO
I was a ballbuster. I knew it. My friends knew it. Fuck, I’d been in the gossip rags enough that most people on the street knew it. I was cool and sharp. Bullish. The kind of person who’d seen enough to know that money could absolutely buy anything, but it couldn’t protect you from getting stung. While I was always trying to find the laughs and the party, sometimes it felt like I poisoned everything around me, like grief hunted me. That unruly bitch lurked in the corners of my mind, twisting and sabotaging all the happy moments.
But not this moment.
Ava didn’t make me pretend. She didn’t flinch at the anger that was just below the surface of my joy. She swallowed it whole. She took every callous kernel that rose up and transformed it into pleasure. And I was hard on her. As soon as my lips made contact with hers, I felt wild. Something about Ava set the most bloodthirsty version of me aflame.
Maybe it was because my desire for her was wrapped in the disrespect I saw whenever my parents looked at me—or maybe it was because she was the keeper of my secrets, my sorrows. It didn’t really matter. I literally wanted to push her to the brink. I wanted her stripped bare. I wanted her so unhinged that she forgot to pretend to be civilized. I wanted her carnal and lustful and absolutely mystified.
Because touching her wrecked me.
So, I pushed. I took and grabbed what I needed. I clawed and probed her pussy until she fucking buckled, roaring my name. Then, with her cum all over my fingers, I picked up her shaking body and carried her to my bed, setting her down on the crisp white sheets. I let my eyes roam all over the woman who had haunted my dreams since I was a kid.
“Bruno,” she whimpered. “Please, fuck me.”
“I will, when I’m good and ready,” I said, dragging a fingertip from her wrist, up past the crease of her arm, over her shoulder, and across her collarbone. In response, she bowed, her chest rising. As my eyes roamed the landscape of her curves, the words “so beautiful” dripped from my lips and they were beyond true.
She lifted her hips, shimmying out of her jeans and pushing them and her socks and shoes off. The garments slipped to the floor at the end of the bed, leaving her naked thighs to peruse. Aching with need, she squirmed. Pressing her legs together, she shifted, rolling from hip to hip, dragging one bare red-toenailed foot up the edge of her ankle, bending her knee, turning so that the roundness of her ass was inches from my palm.
“Please, Bruno?” she begged.
I’d never seen her in her panties before. I’d never seen the color of her nipples or the fullness of her breasts. I’d never seen her wanton, hungry, and wet. I wanted it all and I wanted to savor it.
“Take off your shirt,” I commanded, my voice low.
She shifted, gripping the hem and pulling it over her head, only breaking eye contact with me when the fabric was in the way. Then, without my asking, she removed her bra and her breasts broke free, revealing her nipples, little latte-colored peaks of pebbled need. I took a step toward her, reached for her mouth, and pushed two fingers past her lips, looking to wet them with her tongue. She sucked them inside, pumping her hips up at the same time.
“Fuck.” My cock jumped, straining uncomfortably behind my zipper.
Releasing my fingers with a pop, she begged again, “Please.”
I slowly drew an invisible line of wetness down her chin, past the divot in her neck to one nipple, and circled the tip of my finger gently around her areola. She whimpered and flinched for me. Standing off to the side of the bed, I pulled my T-shirt over my head. Slowly, I ran my hand from her ankle, over her calf, to the inside of her knee, and then up the slope of her thigh, until I was fingering the elastic just inches from her core. The fabric was soft, but I knew that the skin beneath was softer.
“Show me,” I said, hoarse. She lifted her hips a second time, and I grabbed her panties on either side, pulling and shifting down until I was standing between her feet at the end of the bed and dropping them into the little pile of her things.
“Show me,” I said again. She bit her lip and then slid her legs up so that the pads of her feet were flat on the bed, and then she dropped her knees open.
“Yes. Wider.” I groaned, reaching down to free my throbbing cock from the fabric of my jeans. When she was spread wide, shiny and open, her pretty pink lips called to me like the flower calls the bee. Crawling between her knees, I slid my palms under her ass and lifted her pussy to my mouth. Her legs shook in my hands.
“Just a tiny taste,” I said, looking up past her abs and her panting breaths to her parted mouth.
There was mischief in her eyes when she breathed, “Unfair.”
I snickered. “How so?”
“I want you,” she whined. “I want to touch you, to feel you, to lick you.”
My cock throbbed, picturing her on her knees, those pretty fat lips of hers, wet and O-shaped, drawing me into her throat. “Mmmm,” I groaned, dipping my head and breathing in the musky scent of her sex.
“You will,” I assured her. “Once I’ve had my fill.” Then I took my rightful place, face between her thighs, and sucked her swelling bud. Ava bucked off the bed, crying out. I teased and taunted, licking her up and down, thrusting my fingers inside her, nibbling at her clit. I lost myself in the rhythm of playing with her, my cock growing unbearably hard as I made love to her with my tongue. Again, she came for me, mewing and purring with her thighs wrapped around my face.
While she was still shaking, swollen and pulsing, I pushed my cock inside.
Her eyes snapped open. And she hissed, “Yes, fuck. Yes.” As if she was still in the throws of her orgasm, her pussy gripped my cock, pulling me inside her, deep and hard. The pressure was immediate and so intense that my vision blurred around the edges. In my life, I’d been with a lot of women. I was not a saint. I had my fair share of naughty nights and literally, no one compared.
I was never going to get enough of Ava.
Never.