Page 29 of Exile and Embrace

I’d pull out and tease her. Guide her to her feet with my grip on her hair.

Her breasts would be heavy in my hands, her nipples stiff.

I’d taste those rosy buds, teasing them with my teeth and tongue before telling her to get back on her knees for me.

Her nails would rake down my skin, taunting me and teasing me.

Ava would hollow her cheeks before swallowing every last drop of come I gave her.

My breath hitches, and my cock throbs.

I move my hand faster, twisting it.

I come hard and fast to the thought of the devilish look she would give me as she licked my cock clean.

As the water washes away the evidence of crossing yet another line where Ava is concerned, I hang my head.

Fuck. I’ve never been more fucked.

8

AVA

The house is quiet during my first morning in Oregon. Though it’s a nice house in a stunning neighborhood, it’s small. It’s the kind of house that a wealthy young couple would buy when they are just starting out.

Finn is nowhere to be found, but it’s better that way.

After overhearing him moan my name in the shower last night, I don’t know what to think.

He thought I was asleep. He never would have jerked himself off if he knew I was awake.

I run my hand through my hair, glancing at the coffee machine. I’m craving a cup, but I need to start figuring out who Dad was.

He used to talk about Clover Café.

It should be near here.

I can go get a coffee and see if anyone there knows him. Sitting in one of his favorite places might make me feel a little closer to him. Though, I’m not sure if that’s a good thing.

I grab my set of keys and slide on my sneakers before heading out the door.

The sun shines bright overhead, warming my skin as I lock the door. My car still sits in the driveway, covered in dirt and bug guts.

I’m going to have to clean that up, eventually, but today is not that day.

People stand in their driveways, watching the people they pay to manicure their lawns.

I shake my head, tucking my hands in the pocket of my jeans.

If I ever get to the point where I stand in my yard and watch somebody else do the work, then I’m going to request to be put out of my misery.

Even though I grew up with money, I still remember Dad in the yard every Saturday morning, mowing the lawn as his security team trailed behind him.

The café is only a short walk from the gates of the community. Its bright orange walls light up the block. A mural of a woman sipping a cup of coffee decorates one of the exterior walls.

I walk through the dark green doors and inhale the scent of lattes and sugar.

“It’s amazing in here, isn’t it?” A woman in a long, lilac skirt stops in front of me with a wide grin. “You must be new around here. I know all the regulars.”

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