27 Truths: Ava's story (The Truth About Love Book 1) (9 page)

“Ava, I’m not gonna fuck you. I’m gonna comfort you tonight, and tomorrow, when the dawn is new and your head is clear, you let me know how you want to proceed.”

Before I have a chance to process anything more, my back hits my bed, and he is next to me, holding me, kissing my head, my cheek, my neck, avoiding my lips.

“I don’t understand,” I whisper as his kisses travel down my throat. “You want me?”

He takes my hand and places it on his chest. Through the soft cotton material of his long sleeved tee-shirt, I feel his heart racing.

“Here,” he says as he places a kiss behind my ear. “And here.” He slowly slides my hand down his chest, his rock hard abs, and to his jeans where I feel his want. “So fucking badly here.”

“I want you, too.” I grip him over his jeans. Then, taking his hand, I bring it to rest between my legs.

“Ava,” he moans.

“T—”

“Thomas. My name is Thomas.”

“Thomas, I want you.” I let my hand go back to his jean-covered erection.

“Ava,” he moans again as he runs his palm slowly down, pressing against me.

“Please,” I say as my breath hitches.

“Christ,” he sighs.

He hovers over me, kissing me. His kisses aren’t desperate or full of an undeniable need. They are soft, gentle, slow.

I grab his hips and pull him against me, thrusting my hips upward to meet his, rubbing myself against him, seeking release as he continues his slow, torturous kisses.

One of his hands is in my hair, the other moving slowly up my waist before he gently cups my breast. I arch my back into his touch as I continue to press my lower body against his swollen erection.

I grab the raised hem of my shirt and pull it over my head. Then, as he kisses the top of my breast, I reach between us and unclasp my front closure bra so my breasts are bared to him.

His breath hitches as he raises his hand slowly up my side. When it’s at my rib cage, I beg, “Hurry.”

He inhales deeply, running his nose across my nipple. The contact is exquisite, and I cry out, thrusting my hips against him.

“Hurry,” I repeat, grabbing the long, thick mess of hair on the top of his head and pushing his head down lower, wanting his lips around my aching nipples. “Oh, God, yes,” I cry when he licks first my left then my right. “Please,” I then beg, pressing into him harder.

He doesn’t hurry. He takes his time. Damn him!

I shove my hands down my body, forcing my pajama pants and thong down. I use my foot to push my left and then my right pant leg free. Then I grab his belt and start to undo it.

He pulls back. “Stop.”

“What?”

He levels me with a look. “I have all night. I am going to make sure we do this right. If that means I take pleasure in your body’s pleasure without taking my own until the dawn breaks, then so be it. You, my beautiful Ava, will be sated and sober, telling me you want me and what I have offered you. Then I’ll make love to you tomorrow.” He stands up and gazes down at me. “Jesus, you are even more beautiful than I could have ever imagined.”

Then why is he walking away?
I ask myself.

He holds his phone up, using its flashlight to look around, and then the light is gone.

My bed buckles from his weight as he sits next to me.

“Give me your hands.” His voice is thick with desire and deep with need.

I hold them out, and he takes something silky and wraps my wrists.

“This is just as much for you as it is for me. You’re going to miss out on all the things I have planned for you if you keep up this pace. I have already missed out on disrobing you; I won’t miss out on what’s next.” He pushes my entwined hands back so they rest against the headboard. “They stay there, Ava.”

“But—”

“You keep insisting I hurry. No fucking way is that gonna happen.” He stands and unbuckles his belt, pulling it free from his jeans. Then he walks to the end of the bed and takes my ankle. He wraps the belt around it then loops it over the wooden spindle at the end of my bed. Next, he pulls the scarf I wore from earlier off his shoulder, takes my other ankle, and does the same.

“T, this—”

He interrupts me with a kiss that is much more urgent and needy.

He pulls back, taking my lower lip with him. “I have wanted you for years.” His voice is hoarse and strained. “This is my time, Ava. Don’t tell me how it will go. When you’re naked in a bed, you’re mine to do with as I wish. If you want it to stop, tell me now.”

He stands, and I shake my head furiously back and forth.

“I am going to take damn good care of you. Better than you have ever had or will ever have.” He takes in a breath, seemingly to calm himself down. “Is that okay with you?”

I nod.

“Perfect,” he says as he stands over me, drawing his hand slowly down my body and stopping between my legs.

He winces as he slowly rubs between my legs.

“What? Is something wrong?”

He takes in a deep breath. “You’re waxed.”

“You prefer—”

“That it be done for me, not someone else.”

“I do it for me,” I say because I do.

He eyes me suspiciously. “Please don’t play me for a fool.”

I nod.

He climbs on the bed and hovers over me again. His hands are in my hair, and he is looking at me with a tangled mess of desire, need, adoration, and something else I can’t quite put into words, but it makes me warm and removes any apprehension I had just moments ago.

He bows his head and kisses behind my ear again. “I’m starting here then making my way down. I want you to close your eyes and focus on how my mouth, my tongue”—he licks down my neck—“my hand”—he slowly moves his fingertips down my side, causing goose bumps to rise in their wake—“make you feel.”

“Thomas,” I cry out as he clamps down on my nipple and pulls at it.

“Shh,” he says, his breath chilling my peaked flesh where it is wet from his mouth.

“Logan’s here,” I gasp out.

He looks up at me, and I see mischief in his eyes. It’s both frightening and titillating.

“If he hears me …” He sucks harder, and I feel it between my legs. I try to close them, but I can’t.

“You have to stop,” I plead.

He pulls his mouth away and leans up, his lips against mine. “You’ll have to try to be quiet.” He kisses me, trailing those kisses down my body in a torturously slow pace.

His tongue dips into my belly button, and I am shocked by the pleasure I derive from it. I look down, my mouth opening as his eyes sparkle in the moonlight. I gasp again when he repeats the action over and over, my hips rocking into his body every time.

I am a soaked bundle of exposed nerves of need that are so heightened by the lack of contact that it is painful.

He watches me as I pant as opposed to crying out so my brother down the hallway doesn’t hear me. T seems to be driven by the threat it holds to me.

Instead of moving lower, he moves up my body again.

When he finally kisses my lips, I grab his with my teeth and whisper, “I. Need. You.”

His tongue caresses my lip, and I release his.

“Patience,” he whispers, again kissing behind my ear.

“Please,” I beg, squeezing my eyes closed. When I do this, he stops kissing me.

I open one of my eyes to see him smiling and shaking his head.

“What?”

“You’re a very greedy girl, Ava. I see this as a challenge.”

“Good. Feel free to cave into my charms and take your clothes off.”

He sucks his lips in, and his chest heaves in a silent chuckle.

“It’s not funny.” I scowl.

“Oh, Ava, you have no idea what you are missing. How many men have made love to you?”

“I’m guessing your number is far greater than mine,” I say in brutal honesty.

“How many men have made love to you, Ava?” he asks again.

I look away. “Two.”

He gasps, and I look back at him.

“What?”

He looks at me in a softer, gentler way. “How many took the time to show you how beautiful you are? Did they fuck you, Ava, or make love to you?”

“T, please, just …”

I stop when he pulls my arms up and around his head, still bound.

“Change of plans.” He kisses me again.

His tongue strokes mine slowly as I grip his soft, thick hair in my hands, and he groans.

He pulls back and kisses my eyelids. “Ask me how many women I’ve made love to, Ava.”

I shake my head.

“None. But that ends tonight.” He kisses slowly down my body again. My arms are no longer around his neck, but I still have my hands in his hair.

He’s at my belly button again when he looks up as he dips his tongue inside. My mouth opens, and a quiet gasp escapes. He lifts his head, still looking at me. His eyes close for a moment, and when they open, I see something different. Less control.

He runs his nose across my hip bone, inhaling deeply. His teeth lightly scrape from one hip to the other, and then …

“Oh, God,” I gasp as his tongue strokes down my inner thigh.

I hear a soft growl as he inhales more deeply this time. “You smell so fucking good, Ava. I’m gonna love this.”

“Teeeee!” I cry as he pushes his tongue inside of me, and I grip his hair as I feel my legs tremble. “Oh, oh, oh.”

He moves his mouth to my clit and sucks hard as I fall into a million drops of rain, landing softly on his tongue as he laps at the storm’s aftermath, making an almost purring sound as he does.

He doesn’t stop, and I am sure I am going to die. I’m going to die from the amount of pleasure his tongue and mouth are giving me. I’m going to die from the way he looks up at me as he licks my most sensitive and private parts. I am going to die from the need he exudes with that look. I am going to die if he doesn’t stop, and I’m going to die if he does.

When I am unable to produce a sound, move an inch, or keep my eyes open, he kisses up my body. His lips hit mine, and I can taste myself. I can smell what I know without a doubt is me on his breath. And between my legs, I can feel his erection pressing against me.

His eyes are lighter, softer, sweeter. Even though he has yet to come, the look of relief is written in his eyes. Eyes that don’t hide anything from me.

“T?”

“Ava?”

“I want you to feel how I do right now.”

He pulls my hands free of the scarf, and then takes one of my hands between us, holding it against his heart. “I’m feeling really fucking good right now.”

“T?”

“Ava?”

“Can you let my legs loose?”

“Shit.” He laughs. “Of course.” He sits back on his heels and unties my legs.

After my legs are free, he rubs from my ankle to upper thigh. Then he does the next.

When he is done, I sit up, my legs still trembling around him, and take a deep breath as I unbutton his pants.

His hand covers mine, “Ava?”

“I can’t make any promises to you. I’m kind of going through something. Everything in my head is kind of a mess, but for the past hour,” I shake my head. “Things were good. So good.”

He sighs and I look up, “I’m not drunk anymore, T, and I’m not a child, and I want you to feel like I do.”

“How’s that?”

I shrug and kind of laugh. “Wonderful.”

He smiles then closes his eyes as I run my hands slowly up his thighs, watching his chest rise and fall more rapidly.

I reach the hem of his tee and lift it up slowly. He doesn’t open his eyes, but he raises his arms.

When the shirt is off, I see the shadow of his bare chest in the moonlight. His body is more muscular than I thought it would be.

I drop his shirt on the bed and run my fingers up the back of his neck and into his hair, pulling him into a kiss. It’s slow, unhurried, and deeper than before. Our tongues caress one another’s in a dance that feels like … It could go on forever.

I rise to my knees, and he rises to his. I release his hair and unbutton his jeans before pushing them down.

He leans into me, forehead to forehead, eyes to eyes, bare chest to bare chest.

“You’re kind of stunning, you know,” I whisper as I look in his eyes.

“Thank you, Ava,” he whispers back.

I put my hands on his narrow hips and suddenly realize they are shaking.

“You okay?” he whispers.

“Yes, of course. I don’t know why—”

“You’ll figure it out,” he interrupts, saying it with a soft confidence.

I close my eyes and let my hand drift slowly down his body until I have him in my hands.

My eyes pop open when I try to wrap my hand around him, and I look down.

“That’s fucking stunning, aye?” he says, and I look up into a smile that is playful and very confident … for good reason.

“A, B, C—the whole damn alpha—”

He laughs as he kisses me and grabs my ass, hoisting me up against him. Then he leans forward slowly, laying me back down on the bed.

“Trust me?” he asks as he pulls my hand away and grips himself, dragging the head of his very impressive length up and down my seam.

I nod. “Do you have a condom?”

He reaches in the pocket of his jeans that are around his knees and pulls one out. “Hate these things.”

“Sorry.”

“Ava, don’t apologize,” he says with the package between his teeth as he rips it open.

“Could you hurry up?”

He smirks as he rolls it on. “Patience is not your strong suit.”

“You know how we girls can be.” I reach up and help him roll it down then pull him onto me.

“Can I trust you?” I ask as my breath hitches when he taps himself against my clit.

He nods, his eyes sincere. “I will never put you in harm’s way, Ava. Never.”

I nod as all of the nerves in my body come to life again.

Slowly, inch by glorious inch, he pushes into me. My body stretches, and our bodies tremble.

“You good?” he asks.

“God, yes,” I whimper, grabbing his hips and pulling him toward me.

“Don’t. Move,” he hisses, his eyes fluttering shut.

When he begins to move, I push against him.

“Ava,” he warns between his teeth. “You’re so fucking tight that, if you don’t stop, this isn’t gonna last, and I have waited too damn long for this.”

“How long?” I ask, needing him to tell me again because no one has ever made me feel so … so … wanted.