Page 66 of Call It What You Want
It’s true. I was born with a soul as black as ink, and a heart as brittle as ash. But Ava was my lifeline, a hand reaching into the abyss. And when she left, I was plunged back into that dark void, swallowed whole by it. Pain, grief, and anger all flooded in, and swept me away…
“You were my light in the darkness,” I whisper. “And when you left, you took that light with you…”
I push forward, forcing her legs to straighten until she’s lying flat beneath me. For once, she doesn’t fight it, even though I can see the fear in her eyes. Every muscle in her body is pulled tight like a bow.
With one hand, I cup her breast, squeezing gently. They’re larger than they were three years ago, but they fit my palm perfectly. “Is this what you’ve been hiding from me?” I ask, squeezing gently. She says nothing, so I continue my inspection of her body, my hand trailing down her ribs to the curve of her waist, to the softness just below her navel. There’s a faint line just above her pubic bone, and I brush my thumb over it.
She sucks in a sharp breath and tries to pull away.
“Is this it?” I whisper, smoothing my thumb over the silvery line where her skin had stitched itself back together. “Is this what you didn’t want me to see?”
Rigid as a board, she draws in a breath and holds it, silent. I can feel I’ve pressed her to the edge of breaking, so I grant her the mercy of retreat. My hand continues its exploration downward, past the curls between her thighs, to her folds, then finally, to her clit.
Her body jolts when I make contact, like I’ve touched a live wire. I dip my head and touch my lips to the throbbing vein atthe base of her neck, while at the same time, pushing my fingers into her soft, wet pussy.
“Mmm,” she moans, her hips jutting up to grind against my hand.
So fucking greedy. She’s always been this way. So eager. So hungry for my cock. My balls tighten just remembering how good her pussy feels.
“Tell me what you want, Ava,” I whisper harshly against her throat, my tongue snaking out to taste her salty skin. Fuck, I could devour this girl in one swallow, and still want more. She’s like an addiction I just can’t shake.
“I want you to fuck me so hard, I can’t remember my name,” she says, not shy at all about telling me exactly what she needs. And I’m more than happy to give it to her. Butwithconditions…
My mouth stays on her throat as my fingers sink into her channel, fucking her while I grind against her thigh. Each thrust of my hand is rougher, faster, matching the rhythm my cock is aching to take over.
Little moans bubble up from her throat, her thighs falling open wider. I pull back just enough to look at her, my fingers still buried deep inside her, watching her fall apart on my hand. “Tell me you’re mine,” I say, fingers pumping in a frantic rhythm.
Her eyelids slam shut, brows pinched in pleasure.
“Say it now,” I choke out, dying to hear the words tumble from those dewy lips. I hate how much I need this, how desperate I am to hear those three fucking words from her, and only her. How many times have I heard those words from another girl? Countless. And each time, they slid off me like rain on glass, never touching the man beneath.
She’s riding my hand, grinding, searching for that sweet relief, but I won’t give it to her. Not yet. I slow my pace, the pad of my thumb barely brushing her clit.
Opening her eyes, she looks up at me, tongue snaking out to lick her bottom lip, her hips working, thrusting. Her pussy is so damn wet I can barely get traction.
“Say it,” I command again.
Her eyes narrow, and her jaw clenches tight in a silent refusal to comply that sends a blade of anger slicing through me, like a dull, rusted knife. I pull back abruptly, peeling my body off hers like a bandage torn from raw skin.
Every festering doubt that has writhed through my mind these past three years comes roaring back with vengeance—She hates me. She can never forgive me.
“Jackson…” Her voice is thin.
She’s lying on her back, thighs spread open, her glistening pussy on full display. Blood rushes to my cock, making it swell more, if that’s even fucking possible. And my balls are so tight, I can’t fucking see straight.
Anger pulses through me as I look down at her. She refuses to admit she’s mine. Fine. Fuck it. Then she’ll get what she deserves…
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Ava
The last thing I want to do is admit what we both already know—Jackson owns me, body and soul, and he has since the first day we met. Butsayingit? I’d rather crack my chest open and let him tear my heart out with his bare hand. It’d hurt less than admitting the truth.
He pulls back, his face hard. I’ve pissed him off. No one denies Jackson McKnight. No one. And I’ve been doing it since I got here.
My body is buzzing, my pulse quick and thready. But I don’t move. I just look up at him, unflinching. “You think you want to be with me.” I swallow. “But you don’t. Not really.”
“Don’t tell me what I want.”
