Page 206 of Going Viral for Christmas
Every. Fucking. Inch.
The sound of skin meeting skin fills the room. Sharp. Wet. Relentless. Each thrust lands with a slap, echoing through the loft like applause.
Our show.
Her breath stutters every time I bottom out, and she tightens around me with every stroke. Her body’s trying to drag me deeper, keep me buried. ItknowsI belong there.
“Yes, Soren, fuck me,” Ava cries out, and I swear I see fairy sprites dancing overhead in that moment. Or maybe just Ava Bell in thigh-highs and elf ears, which is honestly better.
Gripping her hips, I drive in at a brutal rhythm, chasing the obscene sounds our bodies are making, never letting up, never stopping.
“Hear that, Bells?” I rasp, slowing down. “That’s the sound of your pretty pussy getting fucking obliterated.”
“You feel so good,” Ava moans, high and broken. She presses back against me, greedy for more. “Please don’t stop.”
Shifting my weight backward, I pull out of her. Immediately moving between her legs, my entire palm rubs against her slick heat. Shewhimpers at the loss of my cock but grinds against my hand, surrendering to the friction.
“Fucking say it,”I growl, fingers working over her dripping cunt with punishing precision. “Tell me who you belong to.”
“You, Soren,” she gasps, voice catching. “Always you.”
That word undoes me.You.
“Now, please fuck me,” Ava cries out again.
I slam my dick back into her, once, twice, deep, and final. Wrapping my arms around her waist, I pump hard until we both shatter. My body shudders against hers, she gasps beneath me, trembling, unraveling, her pussy pulsing and clenching around my cock.
For a long moment, we don’t move. Our bodies remain locked. Breaths mingled. Hearts syncing. I press a kiss to the back of her neck, one to her shoulder, another above the corset’s edge. Tender. Loving.
“I missed you so fucking much,” I whisper against her skin.
She reaches back, threading her fingers into my hair, pulling me closer. “I missed you, too,” she whispers. “Even when I was trying not to.”
The words land right where the hurt’s been festering all week. My forehead presses against her shoulder blades. I breathe her in, trying to decide if I want to fuck her again or finally demand the answer that’s been clawing me apart.
I settle for both.
But for now, my cheek rests against the top of her head. We stay there, stitched together, sweaty, breathless, elf ears forgotten, the fire popping in the background. There’s nothing else in the world right now.
Just her.
Just me.
Just us.
Forty-One
AVA
The day after Christmas, Ava and I released a joint statement on ShelfSpace.
There weren’t any flashy graphics. Nor was there dramatic music or over-edited videos. Just the two of us. Me, in one of Soren’s sweaters. Him, in pajama pants, holding a mug that readWorld’s Most Dramatic Love Interest. Our hair was mussed. Our cheeks were pink from the heat of the fire.
And our hearts? Well, they were worn all the way on our sleeves.
We told the truth. Yes, the way we started was built on fiction. A publicity stunt. A spicy marketing scheme with the shelf-life of a sugar cookie. But if it hadn’t happened that way… we never would’ve found each other, away from the screen.
We apologized for the deceit. For making it messy. We acknowledged the hurt it might have caused.
