Page 73 of Beautiful Lies
I’d been through enough shit in my life to know that when you were being offered a second shot at something, you took it. And you did everything in your power to make sure you didn’t fuck it up.
I took her hand in mine and led her to the bedroom. She lay on the bed, her head propped on her hand and watched me undress.
“Come here, lover,” she said, her voice low and sultry, teasing. I chuckled as she crawled to the edge of the bed and knelt in front of me. She wrapped her hand around the base of my cock, her eyes on mine as she wet her lips and lowered her head, guiding me inside her warm mouth. Jesus. Her mouth was like heaven. Her other hand grabbed my ass, her short nails digging into my skin. I wrapped my hands in her silky soft hair, holding the back of her head as she sucked and teased, rolling the barbell with her tongue. My balls were drawn up so tight and the suction of her mouth as she deep-throated me was so fucking hot I forgot about everything else and just went with it. But I didn’t want to come in her mouth.
I pulled out and she looked up at me, ready to fight me on it. “I want to be inside you.”
She shimmied out of her underwear, eager for the same thing. “How do you want to fuck me?” she asked, still using her bedroom voice. It was another side to Ava. The dirty talk, the loud moans and screams. She never held back on any of it.
I pushed her back against the mattress, bent her legs at the knees and spread her legs, putting my head between her thighs. Her fingers tugged my hair and she screamed yes, yes, yes when I bit her clit then flattened my tongue against the tight bundle of nerves, teasing the orgasm out of her before I fucked her with my tongue. Her body spasmed and her thighs clamped around my head like a vice before she went boneless, her legs shaking and her body limp. I kissed my way up to her mouth, my tongue parting her lips to give her a taste of the sweetest thing I’d ever tasted. She wrapped her arms around my neck and arched her back, her tits flat against my chest, my cock jumping as she kissed me long and hard.
I pulled away and sat back on my knees, flipping her onto her stomach. She got on her elbows and knees, ready for me, and knowing what I wanted without having to ask. I fisted my length, dragging the tip through her wetness before I finally entered her. I rolled my hips, thrusting inside her and she pushed her ass against me, taking me in deeper. Sweet Jesus. If I could stay here forever, I would. I reached around and fingered her clit as I moved inside her.
“Oh God,” she moaned. “Connor…” She sank onto the mattress, her ass in the air, her arms wrapped around her pillow, face pressed into it.
My grip tightened on her hips, her muscles contracting around me, and her soft moans sent me over the edge, bringing me to an orgasm that was so intense I was temporarily blinded.
20
Ava
Iwoke up to the scent of bacon and checked my phone for the time, surprised that I’d slept until ten. Connor was not only awake but cooking breakfast? I’d always been a morning person, but Connor used to sleep until noon. I dressed in a tank top and sweats, not bothering with underwear or a bra then darted into the bathroom to brush my teeth.
Go, Ava. You’re rocking that bedhead. And check out the rosy afterglow. It wasn’t really an afterglow. It was beard burn from Connor’s stubble. But I couldn’t wipe the stupid-ass grin off my face as I wrangled my hair into a messy ponytail. Multiple orgasms would do that to a girl.
Grabbing my phone from the nightstand, I padded across the hardwood floors, the scent of bacon making my mouth water, and found Connor in the kitchen, his jeans riding low on his hips, the sleeves of his gray thermal pushed up to his elbows, exposing the ink on his forearms. Oh God, he was sexy. I leaned my hip against the doorframe, watching him. Reveling at the sight of him in my kitchen, filling up the space that had been so empty without him. He turned from the stove, a lazy grin on his face, the bruises barely noticeable now. I watched his eyes darken as his gaze settled on my sheer tank top. “Morning, babe.”
“Good morning. You went shopping?” I asked, noticing the plate of fruit—sliced nectarines, strawberries, and blueberries. Not to mention the bacon which I knew hadn’t been in my refrigerator.
“Yep.”
I wandered over to my kitchen table by the window and stared at the wildflowers Connor had put in a cobalt blue earthenware jug.Flowers. At a table already set for two, the cutlery resting on paper napkins folded into triangles. I knew which one was mine, the one with a bluebird drawn on it. My hand flew to my chest and I held it against my hammering heart that threatened to burst free and fly right across the room and into his magic hands.
Take my heart, I’d say. It’s yours and it always has been. Keep it safe.
I lowered myself onto the cane-backed chair and drew my knees to my chest. The radiator under my window hissed and clanged, warming up my kitchen. Pale sunlight filtered through the window. The scent of basil, thyme, and mint from the potted herbs on my windowsill mingled with the scent of melted butter and coffee and bacon. My kitchen felt cozy and warm and my life felt so much fuller. I watched Connor pour pancake batter into the sizzling pan. He flipped on the electric kettle, the spatula in his other hand and I watched his every move in fascination, my chin propped on my knees.
“I love pancakes.” I sounded like an idiot. As if he didn’t already know I loved pancakes and crispy bacon.
“I know. That’s why I’m making them.”
I didn’t know what to think about any of this, so I just sat there, staring at his back, at his broad shoulders, at the flex of his arms. My gaze ventured lower. Connor had a great ass.
He turned from the stove and I lifted my gaze to his eyes, catching the gleam in them. His lips curved into a smile. “You were checking out my ass.”
I snorted like the very idea was ridiculous. “No, I wasn’t.”
In a few steps, he was standing in front of me. He swiped his thumb over the corner of my mouth. “Drool,” he said.
I rolled my eyes. “I’m starving. If I’m drooling, it’s because of the food.” Liar. I flapped my hand at him. “Your pancakes are burning.” He chuckled and returned to the stove. I scrolled through my playlists, opting for a happy, chilled compilation. The Beatles’ “Here Comes the Sun” played from my speakers in the living room and I cranked up the volume, letting the music fill our souls. Brighten up an already perfect morning.
“Pour me some coffee, wench.”
I laughed and wandered over to the coffee maker, brand new and obviously purchased by Connor this morning on his shopping spree. “How presumptuous of you,” I said, grabbing two mugs from the cupboard. “Why would I need a coffee maker?”
“To keep your man happy.”
“You’re my man now? That was quick.”
