by Eden Bradley
Don’t get too close. Don’t do it.
But it was too damn late. She’d let him in, and he’d gone deep. Deeper than he’d been inside her body. To that soft and tender place she thought she’d locked safely away a long time ago.
“Ava, stay with me.”
“What? I’m here.”
“No, you’re not. You’re closing yourself off. I can feel it.” He pulled back, looking into her eyes once more. And she couldn’t escape him, not with him looking at her, right inside her. “Ava … God damn it, girl.”
“Desmond?” A sob escaped her. “Are you … you’re not happy with me?”
“No, that’s not it. Christ, no. You’re too damn perfect. Fuck.”
“I’m not. I’m not.”
She didn’t know what to think. But he bent his head, kissing her before she could try to make sense of what was happening. And his mouth was soft and tender on hers, giving her exactly what she needed once more. But this … this was something she hadn’t even known she needed. Until now.
Desmond buried his hands in her hair. So damn soft, just like the rest of her. And her sweet mouth on his. He couldn’t get enough of her: her taste, her scent, her flesh beneath his hands.
Just kiss her. Don’t think.
No, he’d been thinking far too much all night, about the way she affected him. Had to think or he’d lose all control. This girl …
But she was kissing him back, her soft tongue like silk in his mouth, and her quiet sighs and moans were making him hard again already.
Had to have her, one more time. Had to know her body.
Her mind.
Yes, talk to her. But later. Now she was all soft female flesh in his hands, melting under him, and he couldn’t wait. Didn’t make one damn bit of difference that he’d come only minutes before. Nothing mattered but her.
Ava.
He was in trouble with this girl. Fuck it. He didn’t care.
He pulled back and watched her face. Her blue eyes were sleepy but alive and gleaming with fire beneath the half-closed lids. Her mouth was pink, swollen from kissing. Fucking beautiful.
His chest ached.
Just have her. Do it. Have to …
He laid her body down, held her with one hand splayed on her stomach while he pulled another condom from the shelf. Then he rolled it over his swelling cock, keeping his gaze on her face.
She was watching him, biting her lip. He could see her breasts rise and fall as her breathing sped up. Ah, she was as eager as he was. When he slipped his hand between her thighs and found her soaking wet, he smiled. Yes, she was ready, wanting as much as he was. And her blue doll eyes were big and round, fringed in dark lashes. That innocent face. And some expression there … he didn’t know what it was exactly. Intensity. Emotion. Almost too much.
But he had to have her.
“Ava, turn over.”
He helped her shift until she was on her knees, her head bowed, resting on her outstretched arms. She was too beautiful like this. Submissive. And when he slipped his cock inside her, she was his. He felt it, that giving over, her body softening all over. Yielding to him completely.
He began to move, one hand tight on her hip, the other on her back, pressing her down. Pleasure was like some living entity, snaking its way up his cock, into his belly, his limbs. He pressed harder into her loose and willing body, every pale curve like some sort of art to him. Her quiet, whimpering cries were making him crazy, driving him on.
He bent over her, wrapping his arm around her tiny waist, pulling her tightly into his body. His heart was a hammer in his chest, breaking him apart.
Why couldn’t he get close enough?
All he could do was push his cock into her, into that wet, silken flesh.
“Ava …” he whispered, not knowing what it was he wanted to say. Perhaps just her name. Crazy.
She made him crazy.
She was pushing back against him now, taking him in, her pussy like heated velvet around his cock. So damn good. And her breath was coming in short, sharp little pants.
He moved a hand down between her lovely thighs, pressing his fingers against her hard clit. And in moments she was crying out, shaking, her pussy clenching around him.
“Christ, Ava …”
Then he was coming, hot and furious, pumping into her small body.
When it was over he pulled his cock from her, rolled onto his side, taking her with him. He was shivering. So was she. And his mind was in chaos, his heart beating like thunder.
What was it about this girl?
This was more than sex. More than the power exchange. She was really getting to him.
No.
But it was happening, whether he wanted it to or not. Even now, with his mind a blur and his body exhausted, he couldn’t escape that fact.
Ava had reached inside him somehow, gotten in deep. And there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.
SEVEN DAYS. Seven long days in which Ava thought she’d lose her mind. Why didn’t he call?
She paced her small kitchen, a cup of hot chocolate in her hands. It had been one of her favorite sources of comfort since she was a little girl, but it wasn’t helping tonight. She stared out the window, watched as a bus stopped at the corner, spilled people out onto the sidewalk. Watched them scatter, everyone going in a different direction, leaving the sidewalk empty once more.
Desmond had left a message the morning after their night together at Pinnacle, saying he’d be gone most of the week on business. She hadn’t heard from him since. Not a call, not a quick e-mail.
The days were hard enough, but at least she’d had work to distract her. But now, alone in her apartment, the sun going down and the sky turning a gloomy gray-tinted blue that grew darker and deeper, she could barely stand it. Could barely stand to be in her own head.
She hadn’t stopped thinking about that night. The bondage. The sex. Him. The way he’d opened her up inside, given that to her like some sort of amazing gift. The way he’d been so incredibly tender with her when she’d crashed. The way he made her body buzz with desire simply by standing next to her, talking to her. Touching her.
But it was more than desire, lust. It was a craving to be near him, to serve him. She was truly submissive enough to want that with him, always. But there was something deeper, more powerful, driving her need for him.
How was it possible to feel so much for a man she’d known only a few weeks? And how much of what she felt stemmed from the fact that Desmond gave her more of what she’d always needed than any other dominant ever had? Her feelings seemed to go much further than mere physical need. Had she imagined their connection? Those moments of pure intensity when he gazed into her eyes?
Maybe her mother was right. She was impulsive. Illogical.
She couldn’t figure it out. And now he’d disappeared. He couldn’t possibly want to be with her the way she wanted, yearned, to be with him, or he’d never be able to stay away this long. She felt … cut off. Lost.
She’d felt the same way with Michael so often. He had met her need for submission, but his command had been overly harsh, leaving her with a sense of emptiness.
Desmond filled her up. Until he’d gone away, leaving her alone to figure out what the hell was going on between them. And all of that with Michael had been so long ago. Why was she even thinking of him? Why couldn’t she seem to separate her feelings for Desmond, for what they had done together, from what had happened with Michael? And somehow her mother’s voice kept getting in there, telling her she wasn’t good enough.
She’d thought Desmond had taken her away from all of that. But maybe he was nothing more than a catalyst for those things she had to learn for herself, finally.
She wanted to. And even processing these thoughts was probably a move in the right direction. If only she could calm down enough to really think it through. If only he would call her!
She sipped at her cocoa, but it was too sweet on her tongue. She poured the rest into the si
nk, rinsed the mug, shoved her hair from her face, burying her fingers in the dense curls until it hurt.
She felt too alone with this. She wanted to talk to someone about it. She wanted to talk to him.
Screw it. She was going to call him. D/s protocol be damned. Grabbing her cell phone from the counter, she yanked the charger cord out, began to scroll for his number. When the phone rang, the familiar chiming notes startled her and she fumbled, nearly dropping the phone.
Desmond’s name on the caller ID on the small screen.
Her heart fluttered, tumbled in her chest.
She took a breath, held it, blew it out, before answering.
“Hello?”
“Ava. You’re there.”
“Yes.”
God, she couldn’t speak, couldn’t think. She was absolutely flooded with relief. And a little resentment, which surprised her.
“I need to talk to you.”
“Okay.”
“Ava? You sound … distant.”
“You’re the one who’s been gone, Desmond.”
Was that really her own voice, so bitter?
“Are you angry with me, Ava?” he asked quietly. “Tell me what’s going on with you.”
“Desmond …”
How could she tell him all she was feeling when she could barely figure it out herself? But yes, she was angry. She could deal with that part, at least.
“Desmond,” she tried again, “I don’t understand what’s happening here. The other night was so … amazing. Am I the only one who thought so?”
“It was amazing. Incredible.”
“Then why haven’t I heard from you? I know, you said you had business to attend to, but not even a phone call in the evening? An e-mail?”
“I’m calling you now.”
“It’s been a week, Desmond.”
“I know. I … I made sure you were okay before I took you home that night. That you’d recovered from your crash.”
“I haven’t recovered from it yet,” she said, understanding only then it was true.
“Christ, Ava. I’m sorry. Are you alright? I should have been there. Fuck.”
Real alarm in his voice. Real concern. She melted a little, as much as she wanted to stay angry with him. It seemed so much easier than this need to feel his arms around her. This need to cry.
“Ava, I’m sorry. I am. This was … irresponsible of me. As a dominant, I should have—”
“Are you kidding? This is what it’s all about for you? Being responsible?”
“It’s my job, my duty.”
“Yes. But is that really all it is to you? Because if it is, I need to know now, before we go any further. If you even want to. If that was why you were calling me.”
Tears filled her eyes, but she wouldn’t let them fall.
“I don’t know why I called. I don’t know why I haven’t. Damn it, Ava.”
“You don’t know why you called me.” She shook her head, her fingers gripping the phone in her hand until it hurt. “God, Desmond. I can’t … I can’t do this. I have to go.”
She flipped her cell phone shut, her body going numb.
How had she been so foolish as to think the man had any real feelings for her? It was Michael all over again: her thinking she was in love, and him loving only being in command of her.
God, is that what she’d been thinking all week?
Impossible. It was too soon, too fast.
But it was the truth.
Don’t think about it.
Yes, what was the point now? She wouldn’t see him again. She knew it was for the best. After Michael, she’d promised never to set herself up for that kind of hurt ever again. And she’d done that, protected her heart, all these years. She wasn’t going to let that all go now.
Yet the tears welled, slipped down her cheeks, surprising her. She reached up, felt her damp cheek with her fingertips.
Maybe she was every bit as foolish as Michael had said. As her mother always said.
But she had to stop feeling sorry for herself. She’d done the right thing, hadn’t she? She wouldn’t see him again, talk to him. She would be strong. She was strong. Stronger than ever after that last night with Desmond, ironically enough.
Why, then, did she feel so awful?
The damn tears were still coming. She wiped them away roughly.
She went to the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of chardonnay, poured herself a glass, went to stand at the window once more. Wicked jumped up onto the sill, bumped Ava’s hand to be petted, and she stroked his soft fur absently.
The city was dark now, the streetlamps illuminating the sidewalks in amber. It looked more empty to her out there than ever. Cold. Lonely. She sipped the wine, and it was smooth and cool on her throat, but it warmed her inside after a few moments. She sipped again.
She drank the glass down fast, then a second more slowly, and was pouring another when a knock on the door made her jump. The glass slipped in her hand, crashing into the sink. Wicked took off, darting into the hallway.
She knew it was him before she even opened the door. And when she did he seemed to loom there, all dark, hard, male beauty, and something like rage in his eyes.
She realized instantly that her cheeks were still wet with tears.
She could not do this. She couldn’t face his rage, whatever it was about. Her hanging up on him. She was too hurt.
She shook her head, found her voice.
“Desmond, I can’t talk to you. Please go away.”
“Ava.”
Command in his voice, but she would not yield to it.
“No. Just go.”
And as hard as it was to turn him away, she shut the door. And let the tears fall.
Chapter Nine
DESMOND POUNDED on the door. “Ava, let me in!”
She leaned her back into the door, shaking her head mutely.
“Ava.” His voice was softer now. “You have to let me in. I have to apologize to you.”
“You … you’re here to apologize?”
“Don’t make me do it through the damn door.”
She turned and opened it. He was still there, but whatever she’d seen in his eyes had calmed. And as he stood, watching her, his face went soft, his brows drawing together.
“Christ, Ava, I’m sorry.”
Then he swept her into his arms, and she forgot for a moment to be mad, just letting him hold her, his arms tight around her, soothing her.
“God, Desmond.”
“I know. I’m an ass.”
“Yes, you are.”
He laughed a little at that, and her body went warm and loose all over.
“Can we begin again, Ava? I’ve been thinking. And all of this … this lovely ritual that I’ve spent years losing myself in is the perfect distraction from anything … more important.”
“Only because you let it be.”
“Yes.” He pulled back, his gaze on hers, his eyes a dark, glittering green. “But haven’t you done the same? I think that’s what your block is about.”
“I know what it’s about.” She was angry again, suddenly. “It’s about things that happened a long time ago. And I thought I’d let it go, but apparently not. This is … the bondage, the domination, is what I’ve sought to release me from all of that.”
“But you haven’t been completely released, even after what I saw happen with you the other night,” he said, his voice low. “That’s still to come for you. If you want to go there with me still.”
His face was all hard lines once more, his jaw absolutely rigid, but she could see emotion flickering in his eyes. Had some idea what it cost him to come to her like this. To say he was sorry. To ask if she would allow him to see her.
“You’re right. There was a big shift for me the other night, but there’s still something missing, something unresolved. I haven’t quite reached that point yet. And I want to. With you.”
He smiled then, his features relaxing. And she felt it, felt at that momen
t they were on exactly the same page.
His hands were in her hair, and although she still felt that sense of absolute command in his touch, there was more there. Tenderness. Emotion. And when he pulled her in and kissed her his mouth was soft and sweet, just kissing her lips over and over.
When he opened her mouth with his tongue and slipped inside, she moaned quietly, unable to contain it. There was so much happening to her all at once. Her body, her mind, was reeling with sensation.
Desmond pulled away and whispered against her mouth, “I want you, Ava.” His accent was heavy, his voice low, rough. “I want you now, without all the ritual, the ropes, even. Tell me what you want.”
“I want you. Without the negotiations and the ropes and the formality. I just want you. But I need it to be hard. I still need you to take me over.”
“Ah, girl … have I already told you how perfect you are?”
Then he was stripping her jeans off, her panties, leaving her in nothing but her soft cotton T-shirt, and pushing her into the living room, bending her over the back of her old overstuffed sofa. He came up close behind her, his still-dressed body all hard muscle against her back. Wrapping an arm around her, his fingers brushed over her wet sex. She moaned, arched into his hand. And he slid his fingers inside her.
“Christ, you’re soaked. I need to be inside you.”
He slipped his fingers out of her, and she held still, waiting on shaking legs, listening to the soft slip of his zipper, the tearing of a foil packet.
“Spread your legs wider, Ava. Yes, that’s it.”
His hand on the back of her neck, then, forcing her down, and his other hand pulling her hips toward him. She spread for him, her sex hot and aching, desire pulsing through her like one small shock after another.
“Please, Desmond. I need you.”
She felt the tip of his latex-sheathed cock at her entrance, then he plunged inside. Pleasure drove into her, sharp and keen, making her clench around his rigid length. His hand was between her thighs again, his fingers teasing at her clit, rubbing, pinching, as he began to slide his cock in and out of her.
She backed into him, needing to feel the strength of him, loving even that he hadn’t undressed, that he shared this basic, primal need. And he drove harder and harder, her body going weak under his.
