Page 22 of Capturing Ava
She remains motionless. Her serene appearance masks her continued consciousness, clear through her deep breathing. She should have remembered. Why didn’t she fucking remember? She sucked me dry of all my assets. Was I that insignificant that she would forget?
I would not touch her like this. I just wanted to humiliate her and make her seem insignificant and defenseless. Just as she impacted me earlier. The rage ripped through my soul. It was strange, though. Observing her in such a vulnerable state stirred up emotions within me. It was a mistake moving closer to her because once my body touched hers—I felt — well; I felt alive again.
Nothing comes from her lips as she parts those delectable plump lips but small little squeaks and if that cute little noise alone doesn’t make my cock almost jump out of my pants. Fuck. Why does she have this effect on me?
It was a mistake moving against her like this. No, it was a mistake removing her clothes from her body. Throughout that process, she emitted squeaks. She knew that I exposed her to me despite that. She wouldn’t speak.
I yearned to catch her voice as much as I needed air to respire. I knew she hadn’t lost her lost her speech. The drug may render her immobile and her vision distorted, but her speech was intact. We had tried these months ago because I wanted to listen to her, but once again she had left me disappointed.
My hands run down her body, gripping her inner thighs as I rip her legs apart. She remembered that part. Her eyes are closed, but once I slide her legs open, little moans fall from her lips. Oh, maybe she remembered. Isn’t that what had excited her so much all those years ago?
“Now, little beast, you don’t remember me.” My fingers slide down her inner thighs. “But you remember this,” I smirk while dipping my head between the crevice of her thighs and running my nose along her already wet slit. Fuck, she smells as sweet as she did all those years ago.
My tongue glides across her pussy, and I sense the motion from her body beneath my touch. Ah, the little beast, must be waking up. My tongue comes down against her pussy, but this time it won’t be slow because I’m fucking starving.
Curving my tongue, I enter her, and the loud moans are music to my fucking ears. Imprinting my fingers into her flesh and burying my face deeper into her slick center, every stroke of my tongue leaves her enticing flavor and the resounding bursts of her moans have me throbbing with passion.
“Oh god, oh god.” I hear her cry out. My lips come down across her lips and her pussy muffles my own moans as my tongue pushes harder and faster deep within her core.
Absorbing every drop of her essence, I sense her body quake beneath me, her legs convulsing as she lets out a scream and empties all of her intoxicating juices into my mouth, swallowing every bit that my tongue expels from her and gliding over her lips, capturing any evidence of her desire.
The silence falls around us. All I can hear is her deep breaths of sleep as her chest rises and falls. I maneuver around her body like a ninja replacing the clothes that I should have never taken off.
The moonlight shines through her open window and I can’t help thinking how ethereal she looks in this light.
How could something so sinister be so beautiful?
Positioned by the window, I released a sigh. She had captivated me then, just like she was doing right now. I reach my hand into my pocket, retrieve the pad, and unfold it to reveal a blank sheet of paper.
Seated near the window, being mindful to not obstruct the moon’s glow, I retrieve my charcoal crayon and start the process of drawing the little beast that haunted my mind.
I drew every form of her perfect features, except her beautiful, captivating eyes. I drew her just as I saw her. I wanted her to know I was here, watching her while she slept.
Inspecting the portrait I’ve drawn of her. A smile emerges on my face. Even on paper, she looks perfect. Finishing it by appending a concise two-word signature. Little beast.
removing the page from the pad and walking to her nightstand, I place it with a single red rose sitting on top.
She would be my undoing, but I couldn’t stay away—even if I wanted to.
I walk away into the night thinking about the girl that stole more than my money. I had doubts about how much revenge I wanted to pursue, but I was conscious of the fact that the longer I lingered near her, the more enticed I became by her trap.
my intention was for her to comprehend the emotions I had experienced upon discovering she had taken advantage of me, but whenever I was near her—I longed for something beyond that.
I just wasn’t sure what more I could want from her—she wouldn’t give me it even if I knew.
So, for now, this was enough.
She didn’t know it yet, but she was mine.
Ava had taken from me and now she would give me back what she had taken, one way or another—she would give herself to me.
Little girls shouldn’t play games they can’t possibly win.
I stay, I watch her from the woods as she gets up. Poor little thing looks confused, probably thinks she dreamed me up.
Then she walks towards the nightstand and I smile, awaiting the fear that I know will hit her body in mere moments.
She picks up the rose and a grimace crosses her face and this is it, the moment I have been waiting for. Her eyes fall on the sheet of paper I left for her to find, picking it up, I watch as she studies it.
