Page 47 of Exile and Embrace

My cock throbs as she swallows and takes me deeper.

“Holy shit.” My hips move faster as her eyes water. “You look so fucking stunning on your knees for me.”

She grips my thigh with her free hand, her nails digging into my skin and sending me over the edge.

I moan as my come fills her mouth.

Ava swallows every drop, licking my length from base to tip before pulling back.

Her little smirk as she stands and fixes her clothing has me wanting to pull her deeper into the woods and bend her over a rock.

“You’re right.” She looks over her shoulder as she brushes by me and heads back to the trail. “I did need a distraction.”

I laugh as I tuck my cock back into my jeans.

She disappears behind the trees as I take a moment to collect myself.

When it comes to Ava, I lose all sense of the careful control I’ve had over myself for so long.

I’m fucked.

12

AVA

Finn grabs his helmet off the console table and winks at me before heading for the door. “I should be back in a couple hours. Try not to stay up too late reading those things.”

I roll my eyes but smile. “I’ll be fine. You just go take care of whatever it is you need to deal with, and I’ll be right here.”

The door shuts behind him with a soft click, and the security system beeps as it engages.

I nestle deeper into the armchair and glance at the stack of journals and photo albums on the side table.

The day after hiking with Finn, my aunt gave me stacks of my father’s photos and journals.

The photos were easy to go through. Dad smiling with his friends, cigarettes hanging out of their lips as they leaned against one thing or another. Even in his pictures back then, his smile looks rehearsed.

While the photos were easy to go through, it’s taken a few days to work up the nerve to look at the journals. Now that I finally have some time alone, I’m ready to read.

At least, I think I am.

I never thought of my father as the kind of man who would keep a journal. It just doesn’t seem like him.

Even though I try hard, I can’t imagine my father sitting down to write about his life. I can’t see him pouring his heart and soul into the pages of a journal, even though they are sitting right beside me.

As I reach for the first journal, my hand trembles. I snatch my hand back and stare out the window at the backyard.

Wind rustles through the bushes, making the branches dance while the stars shine overhead.

When I look back at the journals, I’m still too nervous to crack them open.

I need a glass of wine for this.

After pouring myself a healthy glass of white wine, I take a big sip.

The sharp edge to my nerves dulls a little as I sit back down.

“Come on, Ava. You can do this.”

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