“No, I submitted power temporarily.”
“That must have been a challenge.”
I smile at her sass and ping her bra strap. “It was”—she has no idea how challenging—“but you’re worth the effort.” And the stress, and the headache, and the whole heap of crazy she brings into my life. Burying my face in her hair, I silently beg her to forgive me for... everything.
Then on a deep breath, I lean back to get her in my sights, brushing a finger across the top of her lace knickers. “I love you in lace.” Something so simple but so sexy. So pure. And, apparently, some. Her useless body reacts as always. So pleasing, even hungover. “Shower?” I ask, wanting to wash the toxic aftermath of her reckless drinking away once and for all.
She curls every limb around me, and it’s perfect. I take her to the bathroom and set her gently down, anticipation building within. It’s time to make up for last night. It’s time to bring her back to life. I quickly flip on the shower and return to her swaying form. She falls into me again and supporting her is so natural. “Youarefeeling sorry for yourself, aren’t you?” I lift her and place her on the vanity unit. “I have fond memories of you sat exactly here.” And now she’s back, exactly where she should be.
She lifts her heavy eyes up. “You finally got me where you wanted me, didn’t you?”
And whereyouwanted to be, lady.I stroke down her cheek, unable to keep my hands off her.“It was always going to happen, Ava.” I pluck my toothbrush out of the holder and load it with paste, leaning past her to wet it under the tap. “Open,” I say, and her lips part as she watches me, happy to let me take care of her. She’s learning. I’m ignoring the possibility that she simply hasn’t the energy to challenge me.
I meticulously brush her teeth, wondering what’s running through her clouded mind as she watches me. Is she remembering her confession? Has it come back to her? Should I remind her? Questions circle as I work the brush, but I stop when I feel her palm lay over my cheek, my eyes falling to hers. She’s staring at me with such intensity, it almost has me demanding an answer to some of my questions. But I don’t. Let it come back to her naturally. Don’t push her. So instead, I turn my mouth into her hand, my eyes on hers, and kiss it tenderly. If that kiss doesn’t tell her how I feel, then she’s more hungover than I thought. “Spit,” I whisper, and she pulls her hand away, leaning over the sink.
“Thank you,” she says quietly, thoughtfully, sitting back up.
“It’s just as much for my benefit as it is for yours.” I finally claim her mouth, kissing her deeply but softly. Fuck, I’ve missed her. So much. “You’re rubbish at hangovers. Is there anything I can do to make it better?” There is only one right answer to my question, and if she doesn’t get it, I’ll happily, very happily, show her. I tug her down and reach around, grabbing her arse, giving her a little hint.
“Have you got a gun?”
I laugh loudly. Yes, I know how that feels too. “That bad, huh?”
She frowns, annoyed by my amusement. “Yes; why is it so funny?”
“It’s not. I’m sorry. I’m going to make it all better now.” Her eyes light up, and I smile on the inside as I reach behind her and unfasten the clasp of her bra, pulling it down her arms. I toss it into the nearby wash basket, watching as her nipples harden invitingly before my eyes. My mouth homes in, tasting each one in turn. Jesus, I’m home. I have to wrestle with the urgency inside to claim her hard, slowing myself down. She doesn’t help my cause when her fingers slip into my hair and grip, her tongue circling mine perfectly. “You’re addictive,” I say, speaking my thoughts. I crave her more than I’ve craved alcohol,needher more than I need alcohol. “We’re going to make friends properly now.”
She exhales shakily. “Are we not friends?”
“Not properly, but we will be soon, baby.” I plant a kiss on her nose and sink to my knees before her, slipping my thumbs past the seam of her lace knickers, anticipation killing me. And yet, I don’t rip them off. I don’t hurry this. Truthfully, I can’t believe she’s here.
I close my eyes and let my forehead fall forward, the weight of my thoughts too much. She loads me with strength, and yet makes me weak. She makes me see clearly, and yet distorts everything. She makes me crazy, and yet stabilizes me. The conflict is a burden. But also a blessing.
The sensation of her stroking my hair is hypnotizing, and I spend an age trying to straighten out my mind, trying to justify what I have done. I can’t excuse it. I pull back on an inhale and stare at her stomach, apologizing over and over, leaning in and placing a lingering kiss there as I take the sides of her knickers and peel them down her legs. She lifts a foot in turn, and I cast them aside, fighting my mind from straying too far from this moment.
She tugs my hair and I look up at her questioning face. She’s sensed my despondency. Would she understand why I’ve done what I’ve done? Does she realize she’s saving me? I cup her arse and press my mouth into her stomach again. She has to understand.Hasto.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, and I face her.I will make you understand.
“Nothing.”Everything. “Nothing’s wrong.” I need to distract her. Stop her questions until I’ve figured out how the fuck I can answer them. I yank her onto my mouth and plunge my tongue deep into the walls of her pussy. I’m instantly drunk on her, ravenous for more. I kiss her, bite her, suck, circle, plunge, lick.
“Ohhhhh!” she moans, yanking at my hair as I feast on her. “I need a shower.”
“I need you,” I mumble, and my need trumps all others. I need to sate it. And at the same time, send her delirious to the point she wonders what she ever did without me. She needs to be as addicted to me as I am to her. This needs to be even ground.
“You taste incredible,” I mumble, her walls pulsing against my mouth incessantly. “Tell me when you’re close.”
“I’m close,” she yells desperately.
“Someone’s keen this morning.” I introduce my fingers, enduring her vicious yanking of my hair.
“Oh, shit. Please.”
“Watch,” I growl, increasing my pace, “your,” I circle my tongue firmly, her vibrations sinking into me, “fucking,” I seethe, “mouth.” I sink my finger deep, circling wide, my tongue making long, firm licks.
“Jesse,” she yells, and then I see the torment on her face, her expression strained.Oh yes, she’s remembering.And she tips the edge on an epic moan, her body folding to sustain the intensity as she comes all over my face, her grip finally loosening in my hair, my scalp tingling.
“You’re the best hangover cure,” she pants as I bring her back down to earth, drinking up her pleasure and swallowing it down.