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39. Ava

Chapter 39

Ava

M y apartment was a wreck, but I didn't care anymore.

I don't think either of us knew what to say the entire car ride from my dad's office to my apartment in the West Village. He'd invited me to spend a few nights with him as we'd descended in the elevator, offered me a spare bedroom if I didn't want to jump into things just yet. But he wanted me to stay around him and Lucas for a few days, wanted for us to tell him together—and I was on board for that. I just needed to grab some things from home, and he was more than willing to come along.

I didn't consider that he hadn't been over to my place at all until I unlocked the door and let him in.

I'd managed to clean up in the last week or so, so it wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been—but abandoned paint palettes were flung about on nearly every surface, the dishes needed doing, the couch was littered with work papers, and the canvas that sat on my easel only had a blue wash painted over it before I'd given up.

I wasn't necessarily self-conscious as he stepped inside and looked around at the paintings that hung on the exposed brick and wood, but I found myself following his gaze, wondering what he thought of the things I'd made.

But then he was turning back to me as I shut the door, crossing the small bit of space he'd left for me, his eyes locked on mine as he descended. One hand found my waist, pulling me gently but firmly against him, the other on my cheek — and before I could even register what was happening, his lips were on mine.

I couldn't help but gasp against him from the abruptness of it. We hadn't spoken about what this would mean exactly, hadn't decided on a full course of action. But for a moment, as I sank into him, it didn't matter. His kiss wasn't hesitant or questioning—it was filled with everything we hadn't said, everything we'd been holding back for weeks. The desperation, the depression, the longing, the relief. It was enough for now.

My fingers slipped around the sides of his neck, holding him to me as I kissed him back. The air in my lungs felt like the first real breath I'd had in far too long, and God, I'd missed him. I'd missed him too much to function.

He pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against mine, and despite me straining my neck up toward him, he didn't bow to it. His hands didn't leave my body, though, and as he breathed against me, he kept me close with an almost unwillingness to let me go. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his eyes closing. "For all of it, Ava. I'm so sorry."

For the first time in what felt like forever, the ache in my chest eased, the weight of the last three weeks slowly lifting.

I believed it. He was here. And somehow, despite the chaos, we were going to be okay.

"It's okay," I said softly.

He pressed a kiss against my cheek, my nose, my top lip. "I missed you. Every fucking second, I missed you."

"I missed you too," I breathed. "And for what it's worth, I feel the same."

His eyes fluttered open, searching between mine, his mouth parting as his fingers dug into my skin.

Does he need clarification? "I love y?—"

He kissed me again, harder this time, demanding enough to push me back into the wooden door. Just before my head collided with it, the hand on my cheek slipped around the back of my head, cushioning the impact as his tongue pressed between my lips, forcing mine apart.

The urgency in his body language doubled as he slipped between my teeth.

I tried to meet him where he was, but the intensity he brought was nearly unmatchable. I slipped my hands beneath the edges of his jacket and pushed them toward his shoulders, but mine was already pooling in my elbows with his hands beneath my oversized top.

I loosened his tie and unbuttoned his shirt, but my leggings were already halfway down my thighs and my jacket abandoned on the floor, the edges of my top firmly in his hands as he lifted it up and over my head.

I tried for his belt, but my bra was gone, my brand new maternity underwear the only thing still clinging to my body in the right place.

He kissed my jaw, my neck, my collarbones for quick little stints, but he couldn't keep himself long from my mouth. I kicked off my shoes as he kissed me again, his hand knotting in my bun and gripping onto it, pulling down and forcing my chin up. His lips trailed down over my chin, down the front of my neck, savoring me, devouring me.

"Get these off," he mumbled against my skin as he hooked his fingers on the seam of my underwear, "or so help me God, I will tear them off of you, love."

"But…you're basically still dressed…"

His hands grabbed for mine abruptly and moved them to the sides of the fabric along my hipbones, his teeth sinking in just slightly on the top of my breast in warning. "Off, Ava."

I swallowed and pushed them down my thighs, letting them fall between my ankles before kicking them off along with the pooled nylon of my leggings. The moment they were gone, his arms hooked underneath my rear, lifting me gently and forcing my thighs around his hips.

"How are your nipples?" he asked, his voice gruff as he spun us around and took the few steps into the kitchen.

"Sensitive." I exhaled a squeak as he gently lowered me the half an inch it took for the counter to absorb my weight. "But not painful."

"Thank God."

His mouth closed around my right nipple as he leaned me back on the counter, one hand gripped around my waist and the other on the higher kitchen island behind me for stability. Between us, my little bump protruded, and seeing him there with his body on mine and not a care in the world regarding my own changing my body made my chest ache in the best way imaginable.

But then his tongue slid across the erect little bud of my nipple, and every inch of my skin caught on fire.

The glide of his hand across my flesh, the way his clothed hips pressed into the center of me, the way his mouth caressed one of my most sensitive parts—he destroyed and rebuilt me, tempted and abated me.

Finally, I worked his jacket low enough that he removed it himself. I pulled the sides of his shirt out from where they'd been tucked into his slacks, forcing them off his shoulders until the fabric pooled in his bent elbows, his tie hanging limply around his neck. Every muscle in his chest flexed as he kept himself hovering above me, every ripple of his abdominals standing out, and good god, he looked like some kind of Greek statue, like Achilles himself.

His mouth left my nipple despite my little cries of protest. Instead, he kissed lower, his lips trailing across my stomach and kissing the taut skin. His hips pulled back, too far from my reach to be able to do anything more with his slacks, and I whined again in demand of their return—but he was still going lower, lower, lower, dropping to his knees in front of the cabinet beneath the counter, his teeth sinking in gently to the soft flesh of my inner thighs.

From my position, I could only just barely see his eyes over the bump as his mouth found its mark.

"Oh my God." I struggled to keep my composure and forced my head not to loll backward onto the island as his tongue lashed out at my clit. His finger teased at my entrance, just barely dipping in and pulling back out, the featherlight touches driving me mad—and I could see the little smirk reaching his eyes, could hear his breathy chuckle as I pleaded with him for more.

"Greedy," he mumbled, the little vibration of the word from his mouth making me see stars. "I haven't touched you in weeks, love. Forgive me for wanting to savor it in my own time."

My breath hitched at his words, the world around me narrowing to a single point of pure, unadulterated pleasure as at least two fingers slid inside of me to the hilt, stretching me perfectly.

"You're lucky that I'm feeling generous today."

He pulled me an inch closer to the edge of the counter while his movements with his tongue abruptly turned punishing, overwhelming, gluttonous. He sucked at the swelling bud of nerve endings, his teeth dragging along the sides gently, his fingers curling up inside of me before slipping all the way out and back in again.

I couldn't think.

Couldn't breathe.

Couldn't feel anything but this.

My release hit me sharply and without warning, turning me into a twitching, whimpering, sensitive mess —but he didn't relent. For once, he dragged me further, not letting up in the slightest, the broadest smirk across his face as I begged for a second's repose.

"Please, Adrian, it's too much."

"You're clenching," he laughed, hot breath coating my inner thighs. "Come again, Ava, and I'll give you a second to breathe."

"Please," I cried, but he was right, it was building again, rapidly. I shoved my fingers into his hair, tightened my grip at the root. A third finger slipped into me, a fourth, and oh my God, I was going to die here, right here on my fucking countertop, with a painting of some stupid flowers that I wasn't even that proud of hanging in my peripheral vision.

"I bet I can break you," he grinned, his eyes flicking up to mine. "How many times can I make you come before you're begging me to stop, hmm? Should we find out?"

He was rushing me to another release so quickly I couldn't keep up. "I hate you," I said, half-laughed and half-sobbed, gritting my teeth through the sensitivity as I hovered right at the edge of the cliff.

"I love you, too."

I broke again, just barely processing the words he said as he finally let up enough for me to try and catch my breath. With his fingers still inside of me, lazily drawing in and out, he rose on shaky knees and pressed his lips to mine, the taste of me mixing between us in the haze of the comedown.

My hands wandered down his chest, down to where his hips rested against my thighs. The rigidity against his zipper made me smile —he was rock solid beneath, straining so hard that I could feel the seams pulling beneath my fingertips. There was zero chance he was done with me.

"Unless you want me to fuck here on the counter," he started, lifting his lips just an inch from mine, "then I suggest you tell me where your bedroom is."

I gulped and worked at the button of his slacks, his undone belt clanking against my hand. "Through there," I said hoarsely, nodding to the little hallway that broke off from my living room on the left. "It's a mess."

"Don't give a shit," he laughed. "I'd take you on a pile of trash right now."

We were moving again in an instant, my legs locked around him and him taking my weight. I could feel his heartbeat, calm and sure, as I pressed my bare body into his chest. Skin against skin, I played with the hair at the nape of his neck, kissed his hardened jawline.

With expert precision, he dodged the handfuls of clothes I'd left strewn on the ground in my bedroom, not paying a lick of attention to the assortment of empty cups and dirty laundry, not caring at all about my unmade bed or the bundles of papers on one side of it. He set me down gently on the sheets as if I were something fragile, but from the look in his eye and the bulge of his trousers, I knew he'd see me as anything but fragile soon enough.

"On your knees, love, facing away from me," he ordered, pushing his zipper and slacks down in one movement. He breathed a sigh of relief as his cock finally felt freedom, jutting out toward me with bulging veins and a glistening tip. My mouth watered, but I followed his demands, rolling over onto my front and propping my rear up for him, legs spread just enough to give him access and keep my stomach off the bed. "Good fucking girl."

Before I could protest, he was stepping around the side of my bed, one hand pulling open the little chest of drawers I used as a nightstand.

"Adrian…"

"It'll help," he said, lifting out a long velvet bag and opening one end of it before putting it back. He checked another, and then another, discarding each one back into the drawer. "Don't tell me you don't have a standard vibrator, Ava."

I swallowed. "Second drawer, purple box."

He pulled it open and plucked the box out, popping the top off before grinning like a Cheshire cat. "Oh, I'll ruin you with this," he laughed, tossing the little black wand onto the bed near my head. "Should be easier for you to reach using that with the bump."

Adrian's fingers wrapped around the little remote and pulled it out of its case before putting everything else away.

"Go ahead, love," he smirked. "Let me watch you squirm."

My face warmed intensely as I grabbed for the vibrator and pulled it beneath my body, gulping as I put it in the spot that I liked.

A second later, it roared to life on one of the highest settings, catching me so off guard that I gasped and flinched away from it. He rounded me again and propped himself up on his knees on the bed behind me, one hand reaching between my legs and forcing me to put the toy back on my clit.

I couldn't breathe.

I was already so sensitive from the other orgasms he'd given me already. It felt like an assault on the senses as he held it there, switching between one level higher and one lower, the unpredictability of it scrambling my brain.

"Fuck, you're dripping all over my hand," he laughed, flashing me a grin as I glared at him over my shoulder. "Don't you dare take it off."

His hand left mine, moving instead to his length, wiping the mess I'd made along it. I struggled to keep myself relaxed as something warm and rigid and big pressed against my entrance, but the second he went up two levels with the remote, it was all I could focus on—and not him splitting me in two as he pushed in a couple of inches.

"That's it, love," he groaned, the fingers of his hand digging into the thick flesh of my rear. "Open up for me."

I tried to breathe through the sensations, tried to keep myself from clenching around him and truly feeling his size. Inch by slow inch, he sunk in, taking me over, filling me, destroying me, devouring me—and for once in all of this, I wasn't afraid of what it would do to me moving forward, wasn't afraid that I'd never be able to escape the dreams of him or the want. He was claiming me, and I was perfectly happy with that.

Even if he was overwhelming me while he did it.

His hips met mine, and I couldn't help but squeeze, feeling every inch of him inside of me.

"Christ," he breathed. "You're too much."

I didn't want to wait until he thought I was adjusted. I wanted more, now, before the vibrator sent me over the goddamn edge again. I rolled forward, pulling my hips from him, shuddering at the sensation as he slid along that spot inside of me that made me see stars.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?"

Steady, stern hands gripped me by my hips, pulling me back with a force I couldn't imagine matching, and he slammed in to the hilt. I fisted the sheets, stifling the little squeal that tried to escape my mouth with them.

He laughed, but the sound was dark, deep enough to send a chill up my spine. "Maybe I'm being too generous to you," he rasped, and the vibration against my clit slowly turned down, down, down, down until it must have sat at the lowest possible setting—barely enough to feel it. "Use your words to ask for what you want, Ava, unless you want things taken away."

"No, no, please," I begged, damp fingers searching frantically for the little buttons on the silicone. "Please turn it back up. Please."

The vibrations increased by the smallest amount.

"Adrian."

"Ava," he chuckled. "Ask for what you really want. Beg me."

I gulped as his cock twitched inside of me. "Please fuck me," I whimpered. "Please, Adrian. Please."

The vibrations built up again at the same moment that he started to move properly, his hips pressing in against mine.

It was everything.

He dropped the remote to one side and slid his hands along my back, my sides, my rear, each skate of his hands feeling like little fires erupting on my skin. He gripped my shoulder, dug his fingers in, used it as leverage to lift my upper half up off the mattress, coaxed me back until I was leaning against him, my head against his shoulder.

He buried himself in me, over and over and over again.

He kissed my shoulder, my neck, my ear, anywhere he could reach.

He held me with one hand on my hips, guiding both of us back into each other each time we came apart, and one hand around my front, wrapped around my throat.

He squeezed, and my head felt dizzy but in a way that I was excited by, not anxious about.

"Every fucking time," he said against my ear, his voice hoarse, "it's like finding heaven."

Another release shook my body, and in the haze of it, in the chaos of how unbelievably good it felt, I dropped the vibrator. A second later, it was back on in his hand, significantly reduced power just pulling me through it instead of overstimulating me. He was right—I was getting to a breaking point, a point where I might have to beg for it to stop.

"One more," he breathed. "You can handle one more."

"I can't," I whined, hooking my hand on the back of his neck as he released mine. Blood flooded my head, and in the fog of the rush, I didn't notice the power rebuilding in that stupid bit of silicone, didn't notice how quickly it built up that tension again.

"Attagirl," he chuckled. His hips bucked against me, stuttering and desperate. "God, love, I'm close. Please, one more, one more."

There was no controlling it at that point. I couldn't have decided either way—my body had a mind of its own, and Adrian's groans and pleas only sent me further and further toward another one. The pressure in me built higher, and higher, and higher.

"Fuck, please, Ava. Need…need you…"

His body gave out at the same time as mine, warmth flooding me from the inside and dripping down onto my sheets. My body broke, convulsed, slammed back into the ground after what felt like a lifetime up in the sky. Pleasure bloomed in every vein, in every corner of my body, and it was too much, too perfect, too heavenly to ever try to capture in words, in paint, in images.

"Breathe, love," he croaked, shaking me gently as our bodies stilled against each other.

Shit. Yeah.

I caught my breath as he held me, sweat dripping between our bodies, his arms around my front. I couldn't think straight, couldn't form a coherent thought that wasn't implanted. This was everything I'd been missing for weeks, everything I'd wanted for years.

The words came out without me even having to choose them.

"I love you," I said. Outside the window, little specks of snow began to fall, glittering in the sun like tiny, weightless diamonds, sending little rays of light blinking into my room. I wanted to paint them still, and to my utter surprise, it felt like I could.

"I love you, too," he breathed, kissing my cheek. "I love you, too."

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