Page 50 of White Rabbit

I’m only too happy to oblige my woman, moving in and out of her tight fucking asshole with a steady tempo. Slow and steady pounding prolongs the pleasure on both sides.

Working the baton, I ensure she is constantly being fucked and with her hands pinned behind her back; I watch her squirm as she finally comes, crying out my name. Shoving my fingers into her mouth, I silence the shouts that threaten to escape as she bucks against me, milking me to my own orgasm, still riding the waves of hers.

With a grunt, I pump her full of my cum, claiming her from the inside. Sweat covers me as my body shakes with the intensity of what we have just done. With how hard we have both come.

There are no words. No paltry comparisons at this moment. Nothing even touches how I feel about the woman trembling beneath me as she soaks in her post-orgasmic haze.

I realize Cato is right. I’m in love with Ava Bishop.

Chapter Twenty-Four

AVA

Elijah releases me from the handcuffs, kissing the marks on my wrists tenderly. He had placed the baton on my desk, coated in my juices, dripping with how he made me feel, and I blush when my eyes land on it.

I still can't believe I let him fuck me with my baton. Not only that, but he came in my ass, something he seems to take great pride in as he gently pushes his spunk back inside me tenderly with one finger like some possessive caveman.

He owns my body completely. There's no use fighting it. I'm in too deep, lost in this criminal who devours me, body and soul.

Passing me my uniform he quickly puts his own clothes on. I'm buttoning up my blouse when he puts his hands over mine and pulls me into his chest. His chin rests on top of my head.

"You chose me," he murmurs before kissing my forehead. Something slots into place as I realize that if I had lied about my suspicions, about my feelings, he would see it as me not choosing him—choosing them—and then he would never trust me. He squeezes me tighter, and I inhale the scent of sex that clings to his skin.

My arms wrap around his back. I want him closer.

It’s quieter now inside my head as I realize I hadn’t been living my life, I was simply coasting through it untethered.

I’d been so focused on trying to please my father and trying to find a middle ground where I could still be who I wanted to be, that I hadn’t registered how tired I was of pushing back against the expectations hanging around my neck like chains until Creed. Elijah had unleashed something inside me. Now I wasn’t pushing, begging for space—I was starting to cut the strings binding me. I wasn’t going to go back in my box. I couldn’t be some pretty little housewife. With Eli, I felt like I could be anything.

Glancing at the clock, he sighs, “It’s time to leave…”

His reluctance to leave our little bubble makes me smile. While we were together, it was so easy to get caught up in the fantasy and let the reality fade away. There was nothing but us. This.

However, the sound of footsteps down the corridor, hushed voices and even the odd alarm somewhere in the distance intrudes, reminding me that we’re actually in a prison and the man holding me isn’t Prince Charming. He’s the bogeyman.

“Rabbit, I…” he growls. Cupping my face, he kisses the tip of my nose. “You’re mine. You got that?”

This was as close as Creed got to any kind of declaration of his feelings, but it was enough for now.

Creed has barely gone an hour when Gibbs comes to find me, and tells me I’m needed in the warden’s office. My heart races in my chest, banging against my ribcage with each step closer.

Was it Creed? Had he attacked someone? Or been attacked? Was something wrong? Did the warden know about us? Had we been seen together?

A million things flash into my head, rapid fire, and it’s like there’s a lump in my throat trying to suffocate me. I can’t swallow. I can’t think straight.

Cautiously, I enter Warden Williamson’s office and take a seat opposite him. Unlike the last time, his cold eyes are focused on me the second I step into the room.

My hands are clenched in my lap, to try to stop the trembling as I force myself to calm down. My brain is firing on all cylinders, each confusing thought barreling.

We sit in almost silence. All I can hear is the blood rushing in my ears, the tick of the clock on the wall, the hum of his computer system. My mind latches onto anything and everything.

The warden sighs. “I had hoped it wouldn’t come to this, but I’m afraid we’ve decided it’s time to part ways.”

What?

I blink.

What did he say?

---