Page 49 of This Woman Forever

How loud do you think you’ll scream?—

I stand, flashbacks of Ava standing before me in her little red dress on the launch night of Lusso, looking at me like she wanted me, but acting like she didn’t.

I get her against the wall. “You want it hard, baby?” I growl.

“Fuck me.” Her screamed order bounces off the walls and pistons my hips into action.

“Stop swearing.” I pound into her, choking on every drive, watching her throw her head around, pulling my hair, holding on for dear life. “Better?” I ask. She’s lost the ability to talk, only scream. “You wanted it, Ava. Is that fucking better?”

She blinks, her eyes becoming heavy.

“Answer the fucking question,” I yell.

“Harder!”

“Fuck.” I gulp back some air, banging into her fast, out of my mind with her, all control lost, and focus on reaching the peak of pleasure. No condom. Her cries are constant, her fingernails scratching at my back. I can no longer see straight. I can only hear her muffled cries and my distorted bawls. It’s mad, frenzied, out-of-control fucking, and I can’t stop it. Her walls clench hard around me, trying to slow my moves. She’s coming, her body solid, her eyes rolling with her head. “I’m not done yet, Ava.”

She gasps, climaxing, softening, my sweaty hands gripping her under her thighs, my hips going faster.

Claim the pleasure.

Let it bend me.

Let it put me on my arse.

I blink, chasing my release, looking into Ava’s eyes, feeling her body hardening again. Fuck me, she’s come down and is on her way back up again, her eyes looking panicked, as if she’s not sure she can deal with the intensity so close off the back of her last orgasm. She’s got no choice. She seeks comfort in my mouth, smashing our lips together as hard as I’m pounding into her. My tongue battles with hers. Come on, come on. The sweat pours from my body. Come on, come on. My hands begin to slip on the backs of her legs. Come on!

“Yes,” she yells, giving up my mouth, slamming her head against the wall. “Oh God!”

“Eyes,” I demand when she looks up at the ceiling.

She takes in air and does as she’s bid, looking at me, clawing her hands in my hair harshly. Like she’s mad. She’s mad with me? I stop moving. Take a moment to let the burn cool, take a breath, clear my vision and my hearing.

I see her.

Wet.

Breathless.

Fit for nothing.

I slip out slowly, swallowing, watching her, feeling her stiffen.

Bracing herself.

A small voice at the back of my head is telling me I’ll regret this. It’s not loud enough. I slam into her fast, forcing her into the wall.

She cries out.

I repeat.

She stares at me, searching my eyes.

Then she holds on tighter.

I go again, never taking my eyes off her, as she goads me, takes what I’m giving because what else can she do? She started this. I will finish it. “Hard enough for you, Ava?”

“Yes,” she yells with conviction, no holding back. So neither will I.

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