Page 41 of Keeping Ava

Elijah

Those three words are my undoing.

A taunt. A challenge which I gladly accept.

“I love you, sweetheart.” Before anything, Ava needs to know that. That I’d die to protect her.

The teasing look softens. “Love you.”

“Good.” Trailing kisses across her cheek, I pause at her ear and flick the lobe. “Now, tell me who owns this pussy? Who owns you?”

“W-what…oh fuck!” I slam back in and ride her hard. It’s not gentle. Not the way I thought of taking her for the first time, but it’s us. Crazy and all-consuming and full of this love that has overtaken our senses.

Immediately her pussy clenches, trying to pull me in deeper. Her walls grip me tightly, fluttering around my girth with each entry, causing my balls to tighten. They’re heavy.

“Squeeze me just like that, baby...let me feel you,” I grunt as another rush of wetness bathes my cock and then pools on the sheets below. “Again.”

I’m not being gentle or sweet, but she loves it. The nail marks scoring my back are the proof.

“Oh my God!”

“Again, baby. Come for me.” My eyes traverse her body, take in the flush that sweeps down her chest, how hard her nipples are, and the beads of sweat that caress her skin. Then there’s how her stomach muscles clench with each punishing stroke—how she writhes beneath me.

Pleasure overtakes her senses, and a guttural growl builds inside my chest as I watch her. Feel how tightly she’s stretched around me.

More wetness. The sound of her desire is the soundtrack to our love.

The slap of skin. How she soaks me in her juices. Those tiny cries that set my blood on fire.

Her small pussy looks obscene—how she takes me is perfection. Tight, wet, and motherfucking beautiful.

Taking her hips in my hands, I lift her off the bed and onto my thighs. This angle is deeper, leaves her completely at my mercy as I manipulate her movement—fuck into her with a renewed vigor.

It’s maddening how much tighter Ava is like this. I won’t last much longer.

“Eli, it’s...I..so close!” Her eyes close, and her mouth drops open in a silent scream.

“Motherfucking come, sweetheart. Give me what’s mine.” Tightening my hold on her hips, I raise her up and down my length, pistoning in and out, grinding my teeth as the pleasure becomes too much. “Look at me,” I growl out, never ceasing my control.

How I manipulate her on and off.

Blue eyes open; they’re heavy lidded and unfocused. “Please.”

That’s all she says. She’s too far gone into her pleasure.

I love it. Her like this.

“Are you going to be a good girl for me?” I punctuate each word with a thrust, grinding her clit on my pelvis on each downward stroke. She barely nods, nails digging into my arm. They break the skin. Sting. “Answer me.”

“Yes.”

“Then come for me.” Slipping a hand between us, I rub her clit, three tight circles against her small bundle of nerves, and a scream rips itself from her throat as an orgasm sweeps through her small form. It takes her under a veil of bliss, and my name becomes a mantra. “Just like that, beautiful. Bathe me.”

“Elijah.” A sigh. A whimper. Every single one brings goose bumps to my skin.

I can’t talk. I’m gone.

My cock grazes a spot inside of her then that makes her silken walls clench hard. It’s a massage—a pulsing wave that pulls the come right from my cock. It’s sudden and harsh and motherfucking nirvana as I hold still and empty every ounce of come in my body.

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